The problem with Michael Pollan’s books is that they are extremely difficult to set aside. Even when it comes to the topic of architecture, which isn't something I ostensibly have a great interest in, he managed to draw me in right from page 1. This is truly a wonderful, captivating, and interesting book. It delves into a wide range of topics, from man’s relationship with nature (Pollan’s recurring theme) to the age-old, bitter animosity between architects and carpenters (I believe the same holds true for designers and engineers in any field).

My favorite passages were his repeated emphasis on the importance of presence and experience over information and representation. One of the reasons he desired to build the building himself was to explore experiences beyond his identity as a “symbolic analyst” (that is, a writer and magazine editor). He frequently returns to this point in his musings on the significance (perhaps this isn't the perfect word) of space itself, highlighting that places can be special, that they “are not silent,” regardless of history or culture. In fact, it actually reminded me of Annie Dillard’s description of an artist attempting to create a model of a pine tree, and how the infinite details, both present and experienced, could never be fully captured in a representation.

It’s also enjoyable because Pollan is so engaging. Reading about his nerdy love for words and his constant efforts to frame every single little aspect of the process in a literary, theoretical, or at least thoughtful context is both fascinating and humorous, especially in a book where he aims to break free from such tendencies. There’s also a touch of irony in knowing that he eventually moved away from the house to Berkeley. Maybe his family still owns the property? I’m not sure.

Now I have a strong urge to read A Pattern Language, The Poetics of Space, and Biophilia, and to reread Walden.

The ultimate DIY endeavor might very well be the construction of a shelter. Michael Pollan writes captivatingly about this in "A Place of My Own." At the beginning of his project, he was more accustomed to the tools of pen and "The Chicago Manual of Style" than to a hammer and nail. He was rather apprehensive about his sudden urge to build himself a treehouse-library in the woods up the hill from his home.

We can observe what the studio did for his work. "The Botany of Desire" and "The Omnivore’s Dilemma," two of his more renowned works, were written after its construction. Pollan examines his subjects with extreme meticulousness, astonishing you with the profundity of his research. When choosing the site for his building, he referenced everyone from Vitruvius in the first century B.C. to the Romantic painters of the 18th century.

Most intriguingly, his examination of construction had universal implications for all crafts. Especially relevant was the part where he described how a wordsmith like himself could be overcome by a desire to create a structure with his own hands to cure the "sense of living at too great a remove from the things of this world…" He soon realizes that this idea is a bit romantic, especially since he doesn't quite know how to hold a hammer. But like most of us who have made something, he perseveres, and the resulting studio (and book) is well worth the effort.

Michael Pollan's second book chronicles his search for a writing refuge. What is it about? Well, it's about much more than just a shed. It's about getting up from the desk and engaging in physical labor, exploring architecture, history, design, writing, family, woodworking, honesty, weather, accomplishments, philosophy, and of course, writing the second book.

This is a leisurely and slow read, one that should be savored. The extensive chapter endnotes and bibliography of the many books mentioned are a great addition for those who want to explore more.

The story begins with the pending arrival of their first baby. The recently remodeled home they share is too small to accommodate his writing area, her art studio, and a nursery. They had a good experience with the architect, so he's engaged to draw up plans for a writing shed.

Pollan recalls the discussions in detail, the back-and-forth of arriving at a design that works on the site, is practical, and pleases aesthetically. The architect's character is drawn so well that you feel like you know him. The same goes for the builder later on, and the battles between the two are constant.

This might seem like a straightforward story of idea, design, and build, but in the telling, Pollan takes us on a journey through history. He's a self-described researcher who gets lost in books and articles when presented with a question. He shares all of this with us, including his thoughts on daydreaming.

If you're looking for an action-packed story, this might not be for you. But if you like to wonder, ponder, and imagine, then this book is a must-read. Once you get into Pollan's rhythm, you'll thoroughly enjoy the ride.

The version I listened to had a distinct title, namely "A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Dreams".

Anyway, I must confess that I had anticipated this book to zero in more on the impulse that lies behind constructing a place of retreat, that is, the "dreams" aspect. Instead, it seemed to be more of a step-by-step guide, or so it appeared, to building the shed, which is the "architecture" part. The amount of time, energy, and expense that was lavished on this retreat... er... this folly was truly astonishing to me. Surely, castles have been erected with far less fuss and drama.

I was rather perturbed by Pollan's attitude towards the workers such as Joe the carpenter, Charlie the architect, and Fred the electrician. To me, it came across as condescending, particularly the sneering descriptions of their clothes, hair, weight, and mannerisms. Perhaps some readers might find these descriptions humorous, but I found them to be trite and even cruel. Moreover, his wife seems to be a mere shadowy, personality-less character, wandering around the main house pregnant and barefoot.

Pollan's thoughts and research on architecture are indeed interesting. However, overall, the book was just a tad too self-indulgent for my taste.

Non-fiction account of a man building a small shed in his backyard. That’s the book. At first glance, it might seem like a rather ordinary topic. However, as one delves into the pages, it becomes evident that it is more interesting than you might expect. The author has a unique way of exploring each new step of the building process. Whether it's laying the foundations, constructing the framing, or any other aspect, the author approaches it with cleverness and a contagious curiosity. This makes the reader eager to follow along and learn about the details of shed building.

But overall, the account is held back by what can only be described as often eye-roll inducing pretentiousness. Statements like “with every hammer stroke I commune with the trees who gave their lives for this floorboard” come across as overly dramatic and perhaps a bit too self-important. It's as if the author is trying too hard to add a deeper meaning to what is essentially a simple task of building a shed. While it's nice to have a bit of reflection and appreciation, it doesn't need to be taken to such an extreme. After all, it's just a shed, buddy.

So boring.

I had high hopes for a hilarious, self-deprecating story in the vein of Bill Bryson or Sarah Vowell. However, it was more like being stuck in an excruciatingly dull conversation with one of my dad's friends who just loooooooved quoting obscure philosophers.

This could have potentially been a great (and short!) article, but it simply doesn't have the substance to carry an entire book.

I do enjoy his food writing, but I would strongly recommend others to avoid this particular work.

It lacks the charm, wit, and engaging narrative that I was期待ing.

Maybe the author should have focused on his strengths and left this concept as a short piece rather than stretching it into a full-length book.

Overall, it was a disappointment and not something I would recommend to others.

After listening to an inspiring interview with Michael Pollan on the "Longform" podcast (episode #347), I was deeply impressed and immediately made up my mind to read all of his books.

Pollan's voice seemed to be the perfect one, filled with valuable instructions and a genuine love for research. I'm certain that he is an excellent teacher at both Berkeley and Harvard.

I began with this book on building, as I myself am also engaged in a building project. I was glad to learn that his 8'x 10' writing shed took a long two and a half years to construct. Pollan had never built anything before, but through his house renovation, he became friends with an architect.

Pollan's dream was to walk through his garden every morning, enter his sanctuary, and spend the whole day writing. He detailed every step of the process, from locating the site to designing the desk and daybed, building the windows, doing the framing, and finding the flooring. Although he received help from another carpenter, it appeared that he was constantly involved in the building work.

There must have been breaks for extensive historical research, as this book features a wonderful bibliography of all the materials Pollan read while writing the book and considering the project. I highly recommend this book if you are building something (and who doesn't undertake a building project at some point in their lives).

In A Place of My Own, Michael Pollan embarks on an interesting journey of building a writing hut. Technically speaking, he first hires an architect to design this special hut and then enlists the help of a carpenter to bring the design to life. Throughout the book, Pollan delves deep into various aspects such as architecture, postmodernism, and even the philosophical meaning of windows.

While I, like many others, enjoy Pollan's comprehensive digressions, I have to admit that there were moments when I thought, "You should stop thinking about all these other things and just focus on building your hut." For those readers who might find certain sections of this memoir a bit dry, I suggest skipping ahead to the final section, which offers a fascinating history of the study.

I listened to an audio production of A Place of My Own, which was read by the author himself. I highly recommend it as it adds an extra dimension to the reading experience.

Update 2022. Upon re-reading this work, I was truly amazed by the significant influence that literary theory has had on architecture. Additionally, I found the dynamic and the tension between the architect, the carpenter, and the client extremely interesting. The architect designs the house, the carpenter builds it, and the owner lives in it. But the question remains: Whose house is it really?

Despite Pollan's typical tendency towards excessive self-deprecation, the construction/design segment of this book holds significant interest and value.

Nevertheless, the exploration of architectural movements proved to be overly theoretical for my taste.

Considering that Pollan's writing house was crafted by hand, employing local materials and with the assistance of local artisans, thus following a rather traditional construction process, it seems an odd decision to dedicate the majority of the book to analyzing modernism versus post-modernism.

Pollan has a penchant for expounding on his topics at a highly abstract level throughout much of his work. While this can be engaging up to a certain extent, it ultimately leaves the reader with little practical knowledge or takeaways.

I truly wish that this book had delved more deeply into the history and techniques of hand-building, rather than focusing so intently on the architectural theory of unrelated movements.

It would have been far more beneficial and engaging to have a more hands-on and practical approach to the subject matter.

Overall, while the book has its merits in the construction/design aspect, the excessive emphasis on theoretical architectural movements detracts from its overall appeal and usefulness.

I've fallen out of the groove with reading. It seems that for a while now, I just haven't been able to get back into the habit of regularly picking up a book and losing myself in its pages. However, everything changed when I came across this particular book. From the very first page, I was completely hooked. The story was so engaging, the characters so vivid, and the writing so beautiful that it truly inspired me. It made me realize how much I had been missing out on by not reading more. But more importantly, it encouraged me to start writing myself. I found myself filled with ideas and a newfound passion for putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). This book has truly been a game-changer for me, and I'm so grateful that I discovered it.

I have a great fondness for Michael Pollan.

I truly believe he is an outstanding writer, and from time to time, I am simply astounded by a particular sentence he composes.

Regrettably, this book has pushed my patience for self-indulgence to a point beyond its capacity.

Seriously, the only thing that is even more unendurable than being the sort of person who requires a "writing cabin" is being the kind of individual who pens a book about the need for, and the construction of, that very writing cabin.

It seems that in this case, the author may have taken his own personal indulgence a step too far, leaving the reader with a sense of weariness rather than inspiration.

Perhaps if the book had focused more on the actual writing process or the ideas that emerged from within the cabin, it would have been a more engaging read.

As it stands, however, it feels more like a self-absorbed exploration of a somewhat frivolous pursuit.

Nevertheless, I still hold Michael Pollan in high regard for his other works, and I hope that his future endeavors will once again capture my imagination.

The path to the realization of an idea - to have a place for yourself and your dreams. "To dream means to cultivate yourself beyond the definitions of others," writes Pollan. It starts without preconceived skills or experience because he finds in it a kind of return to the basics - to build with your own hands. At its core, the text is actually a story about the universal process of design and construction - how ideas turn into designs and blueprints, which then turn into wood, stone, and glass, to finally take their place in the tangible world. In "A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams", Pollan approaches it as I would (especially as a person who is greatly influenced by the surrounding environment) - he first seeks depth and meaning with a lot of theory and recognition of different viewpoints from different fields, in order to create his own vision and approach. Starting with Vitruvius, passing through the ideas of Alberti, Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Louis Kahn about architecture, and arriving at quite philosophical deliberations and ideas about freedom, nature, and creation. He makes parallels with texts such as "A Room of One's Own" by Woolf, "Walden" by Thoreau, "Poetics of Space" by Bachelard, and examines the original practices of how a house should be arranged or in which direction its windows should face.

Pollan's mind appeals to me. This was my first book of his, and I think I will continue to read him. Specifically, this one was like a form of meditation. And the reading - deliberately very slow.

I found myself completely immersed in his words, as if I was on a journey with him through the world of architecture and ideas. His detailed descriptions and thoughtful analyses made me see things from a different perspective. It was not just a book about building a physical place but also about constructing a mental and emotional space.

Overall, it was a truly enriching and thought-provoking read that left a lasting impression on me. I look forward to exploring more of Pollan's works in the future.