After reading an abundance of science fiction recently, it was a pleasant change to veer in the opposite direction and immerse oneself in the "real life" presented within a work of non-fiction.

"A Place of My Own" is an extended essay in the style of Montaigne, whom Michael Pollan mentions at the conclusion of this book as the originator of the personal essay. Similar to Montaigne, Pollan's narrative skillfully weaves back and forth between the information he gleans from books and the observations he makes from his own experiences, ultimately drawing both together into the thoughtful ruminations that characterize the essay form. Regrettably, Pollan tested my patience on several occasions. In the end, I determined that it was truly his inclination to overlook or only superficially examine his privileged social position that caused my impatience.

It took him and a carpenter two and a half years to construct an 8x13 unplumbed, uninsulated custom room on a knoll in the woods behind his house in Connecticut. He and Joe Benney, his highly skilled mentor, predominantly worked on Saturdays but would regularly put in longer periods when specific tasks demanded it. Pollan engaged an old friend, Charlie Myer, to design what was essentially a detached study. Myer proves to be as touchy about his work as any architect. The triangular relationship among the owner, builder, and architect closely resembles the one in Tracy Kidder's classic "House," with the significant difference being that Pollan is both the writer and the owner in "A Place of My Own." Some readers might prefer the personal involvement over Kidder's cool objectivity, but Kidder is far less prone to philosophical musings.

This Penguin edition was released 11 years after the book's initial publication. In the 2008 preface appended here, you are informed that the Pollans relocated to the Bay Area from Connecticut less than a decade after he completed the "cabin." This gives a post-facto melancholic tone to some of Pollan's musings; while he was working on the building, he assumed he would be utilizing the study for decades to come. He compares his experience (without equating it) to Henry Thoreau's construction of his cabin at Walden Pond, and in the end, his temporary stay in his own "room" resembles Thoreau's more than he had intended.

However, Thoreau truly constructed his cabin entirely on his own, while Pollan received assistance from Joe and Charlie and eventually some electricians. While Thoreau resided in his cabin, Pollan only went there to work. One of the precipitating factors in the construction of this separate space was the birth of his son Isaac; he was going to require a place to escape from the noise and distraction of the baby. The author earns points for being refreshingly honest in this regard. Nevertheless, I would have preferred him to write a bit less about his manual ineptitude that hindered his ability to build his cabin and a bit more about the socio-economic advantages that enabled a man in his 40s to renovate a house, welcome a new child into the world, and immediately embark on a project that would ultimately cost $125 per square foot ($13,000).

"A Place of My Own" is not a how-to book. Instead, Pollan is interested in the history, psychology, and philosophy of the creation of enclosed spaces in which we are meant to dwell or carry out other human functions. As this was written in the 1990s, the deconstructionists and other post-modernists come under some criticism. Peter Eisenman serves as a representative for that architectural community. Pollan attempts to be impartial, but the absurdity of deconstructionist claims in the face of his own lived experience and desires ultimately leads him to take the opposing side. He is not much more sympathetic to the modernists (represented by Frank Lloyd Wright, the Bauhaus, and Robert Venturi), but he is more civil than, for example, Tom Wolfe.

Pollan undertakes this project in large part because he is aware that he is a person who "lives in his head." He is a magazine editor, and his world is composed of words, mere representations of reality. He yearns for contact with the concrete and believes that building a place of his own will extricate him from his thoughts. Perhaps it did, but you wouldn't know it from reading this book, as it is very much a journey through the interior of his mind as he progresses through the process of designing and constructing his cabin.

Fortunately, his mind is an interesting place, but the passages in which he attempts to draw together his research and the revelations resulting from his hands-on experience can sometimes become cumbersome. He repeats himself to some extent, and some of his syntheses feel incomplete. For instance, in a chapter on windows, he helpfully describes how technological advancements made ever-larger windows possible. The Modernists hoped that glass-walled structures would break down the barrier between the inside and outside, but of course, we know it had the opposite effect.

Pollan does not really drive home just how destructive glass walls can be. Instead, his critique is a combination of personal observations and citations of published criticism that disperses the topic rather than focuses it. His vignette on the picture window at his family's second home on Martha's Vineyard (the location given away by his reference to beetlebung trees) diverted my attention from his argument as I contemplated his blithe portrayal of a privileged youth. The fact that he does not quite "own" his cultural position while emphasizing his personal goofiness is an annoying aspect.

Pollan surprised me by failing to define several $64 words associated with architectural details. I finished the book without being entirely clear on what, among other things, a muntin might be. I could have simply Googled it, of course, but this inconsistency (many words were defined) irked me.

Despite my complaints, this is a book worth reading if you are contemplating a design-build project yourself and truly wish to understand what you desire and why you desire it. We are products of our cultural history, and Pollan does a commendable job of exploring why, for example, building a structure that can be transformed into a book-lined porch was such an appealing concept to him. I found his design incredibly appealing as well, but if you don't, then the book might be even more interesting. In that case, the whole story might seem something crazy and quixotic (like Werner Herzog's "Fitzcarroldo") and be even more enjoyable to read.

This is my favorite Pollan book.

It is truly remarkable. It is not only interesting but also personal, as if Pollan is sharing his own experiences and thoughts directly with the reader.

The depth of research that has gone into this book is truly impressive. Pollan has delved into every aspect of the subject matter, providing a wealth of information and insights.

What makes this book so compelling is that it explores so much more than just the construction of a writer's shack. It delves into themes such as nature, creativity, and the human connection to the environment.

Pollan's writing style is engaging and accessible, making this book a pleasure to read. Whether you are interested in architecture, nature, or simply a good story, this book has something for everyone.

I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a thought-provoking and enjoyable read.

Since purchasing my very first home, I have gradually developed an interest in woodworking. As a writer and a passionate lover of bookshelves, I have long dreamed of having my own secluded haven, a kind of cave filled with books and charming spots to write.

Consequently, this book precisely targeted my two overlapping interests and offered great details throughout.

It details Michael Pollan's construction of exactly that, his Writing House, and it truly sounds delightful. Amidst his daily recounting of the progress of his small hut in the woods, he includes a wealth of information about the history of architecture, the unique love/hate relationship between architects and builders, and numerous asides about the "right" way to do things.

All in all, it was a great read that convinced me that perhaps I will hold off on building my writing cave until I move to my next house. I do wish it had incorporated more pictures of his house and the progress at each stage, or perhaps even more information from others who have built similar structures, as a simple Google search will reveal a plethora of them.

This book not only satisfied my curiosity about a writer's private space but also provided valuable insights into the world of architecture and construction. It has definitely inspired me to think more carefully about the design and functionality of my future writing cave.

I would highly recommend this book to anyone who has a passion for writing, architecture, or simply creating a unique and personalized space. It is a fascinating read that will leave you with a newfound appreciation for the art of building and the importance of having a place to call your own.

This remarkable book provided me with much-needed solace during a period when I was experiencing a profound sense of being trapped.

All I desired was a place that could truly belong to me, a haven where I could find peace and tranquility.

Pollan's unique writing style has always had a profound impact on me. His words seem to flow effortlessly, captivating my attention and transporting me to different worlds.

Alas, in the hustle and bustle of my current life, I find myself lacking the time to fully immerse myself in his works as I once did.

Nonetheless, the memories of the solace and inspiration I derived from his book still linger within me, serving as a reminder of the power of literature to touch our souls and offer us a respite from the challenges of the outside world.

Reading Michael Pollan's books always has a profound impact on my mood, elevating it to new heights.

This particular book delves into the fascinating topic of why he desired a writing cabin and meticulously details the entire process of constructing it.

It begins with his collaboration with the architect in working on the design, carefully envisioning every aspect to meet his specific needs and aesthetic preferences.

Then, it progresses to the hands-on stage of physically putting it together with a constructor, where he not only witnesses the transformation but also actively participates, learning valuable skills and techniques along the way.

The narrative is so engaging and charming that it completely entertained me from start to finish.

In fact, it has inspired me to such an extent that I now have a strong desire to build my own cabin.

I can't wait to embark on this exciting journey and create a space that is uniquely mine, just like Pollan did.

Stumbled upon this at the local library.

The Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food are both on my to-read list, so Michael Pollan was definitely on my radar. However, I'd never actually read him, not his essays, stories, or articles. The cover and the premise intrigued me. After all, who can't relate to the romance of building one's own cabin in the woods?

Far from being a simple Walden reboot, this book skillfully balances two "narratives." There's the physical act of building and the deeper musings on the history of architecture and its relationship with nature. As he himself states in the preface, in his writing, he has discovered his niche of fascination and creativity to be "exploring the intersection between nature and culture." This also fascinates me.

When designing a chicken coop, one must be attuned to how the birds live in nature, considering factors like the required square footage, roosting bars, privacy, and the number of broodboxes. These natural constraints form a sort of cross-section for a wide range of creative implementations that we otherwise call "architecture." For example, the pitch of a roof has more to do with the amount of snowfall in a region than with "local cultural symbols."

The book is filled with such explorations, bordering on being broody. The author maintains a light and entertaining pace while also educating. The reader is drawn into his very primordial instinct to build his own "place of refuge and prospect." I recommend it to anyone who can identify with this instinct, as it has a rich historical and psychological depth worthy of exploration.

I can't recall many times I've yelled, "Oh, shut the fuck up" while reading a book, but that's precisely what happened when I delved into the author's hyper philosophical chapter on roofs.

I had initially thought this book would center around the author's personal experience of designing and constructing a writing cabin all by himself. However, it turned out to be more of an in-depth analysis of the standard components of a building and how they have evolved over time.

I must admit that I found the sections on design, site planning, and construction to be the most captivating parts of the book. Unfortunately, these otherwise interesting passages are somewhat marred by the unlikable characters. There's the author himself, who claims to be broke yet manages to afford hiring an architect and a carpenter to build a private getaway on his expansive farm. Then there's the narcissistic architect who bristles at any challenge to his design. And finally, the carpenter, a know-it-all far right winger who can't seem to hide his disdain for both the author and the architect.

The real disappointment, though, is that the author fails to offer any meaningful insights into how the building actually functions in practice. This omission leaves the reader with a sense of incompleteness and a longing for more practical details about the finished structure.

This book is an obvious and rather poor imitation of Tracy Kidder's House.

I reached the part where he described the trees from Oregon that provided the beams for his construction, and his description was so inaccurate that I simply couldn't continue reading.

(He claims that an entire tree was used for each of his floor joists? Has he ever even bothered to look at a photograph of a Douglas fir?)

It is clearly an early work, and it shows.

"A room of one's own"—why does that sound so familiar?

This book seems to be a result of under-researched work done mainly for a paycheck.

And all the while, his wife is at home taking care of the baby? Is that what Woolf was referring to? Is that really what was happening here?

He hired an architect to design a shed and a contractor to build most of it, and竟然 thought he could use his books as insulation? Good grief!

Do yourself a favor and read Kidder's book instead.

How many times do we hear people, including ourselves, constantly wish that we could have our own place?

Whether it's a temporary retreat or a permanent home, having one's own place seems to be a crucial aspect of finding stability and peace.

Admittedly, with the skyrocketing prices of locations and the pursuit of the best places, this wish becomes difficult to achieve.

In A Place of My Own: The Education of an Amateur Builder (1999) by Michael Pollan, the author literally takes on the need to create or build a place of his own and proceeds to do just that.

Said to have been written at a critical time in his life, this non-fiction work delves into a personal level, showing Pollan's driving force in constructing an ideal place - in this case, a writing space in the form of a four-walled structure in the middle of a forest.

The title is reminiscent of Virginia Woolf's "A Room of One's Own" intertwined with Henry David Thoreau's "Walden", and the book feels just like that.

In my opinion, Pollan's use of these two literary classics as references makes it even more appealing.

The author also takes us on a tour of the historical background of logging, from choosing the appropriate location based on the views for inner peace, to different interior colors, and even structural concepts used mainly for saving space.

There are useful and fascinating drawings inside that correspond to the progress of Pollan and his company's construction of the writing house.

For those who are not architecturally inclined, the book allows one to be introduced to the practice of being aware of one's space in order to create that elusive "place of one's own."

Perhaps what we can gain from this obsession with finding the perfect spot to have our own place is the intrinsic quality of achieving unity with a certain place, something that is in harmony with the peacefulness of our surroundings and our personal satisfaction.

Having read everything of Michael Pollan's that I could get my hands on since I first encountered his work, I was truly surprised to learn that he had written about his writing hut. He mentions his writing hut occasionally in his later books, and I had often wondered about it. Pollan's work is always masterful, and this one, while not yet as accomplished and engaging as his later works, fascinated me. It is almost incidentally one of the most dramatic character arcs I've read in literature, and this feat is performed in a work of non-fiction.

At the book's start, Pollan is not quite Pollan yet. However, as the book progresses, he seems to develop into the writer I so admire. He is fighting against the square, fighting against fighting against the square, and deeply examining every aspect of his material. And to this day, what makes Pollan Pollan is the way he juxtaposes his analytical nature and his poetic nature, his fight for innovation and against the square, and his fight against his fight against square.

It also left me with a number of questions. How was Pollan's work influenced by the writing hut that he built specifically to create the work I so enjoyed? Would he have been the Michael Pollan who wrote The Botany of Desire had he not been the Michael Pollan who built this structure? And so, in a way, I became a character in this book as well. I love his work, and so, being the first person in my own story, Pollan wrote these books for me. What if he hadn't built this hut? Would I have lost something I dearly love? I think the answer to this is yes. I hate to think of a world without The Omnivore's Dilemma, or the phrase, "eat food, mostly plants, not too much." That would be a painful loss to me. The hut belongs to Pollan, built by his own lights and for his work, but the fruits of his labor belong to me. He and his hut changed me, and I would argue, the world.

This is definitely my least favorite of all Pollan's works.

Pollan's account of his experience building a humble writing hut for himself in the woods is filled with dull explorations of architectural history and philosophy. It is accompanied by meandering reflections on the meaning of place.

I admit that I have very little interest in the history and philosophies of architecture. However, I do have an interest in building huts in the woods. Yet, even this mild interest in the topic was not sufficient to compel me through the story.

The reference to daydreams in the subtitle was perhaps the most exemplary description of the book for me. I listened to much of it while commuting in my car and would often find myself returning from daydreams to realize that I hadn't been listening to the story for the last 20 minutes. And yet, he was STILL talking about the philosophical implications of glass. Ugh.

The book seems to lack a clear focus and fails to engage the reader on a deeper level. Pollan's excessive exploration of architectural history and philosophy overshadows the more interesting aspects of building a hut in the woods. It makes the reading experience feel like a chore rather than an enjoyable one.

Overall, I would not recommend this book to others, especially those who are not particularly interested in architecture or philosophy. There are many other books out there that can offer a more engaging and fulfilling reading experience.

The beauty of Pollan's writing lies in the fact that he approaches his topics not only as a researcher but also as a doer.

He presents his ideas and conclusions regarding things that he is uncovering for the very first time or grappling with while learning to play a new instrument.

If he approaches topics from a somewhat academic and privileged white world, at least he is forthright about it.

It is truly enjoyable to learn in tandem with someone who is so articulate and well-spoken.

Pollan's ability to combine his research and hands-on experiences makes his writing engaging and relatable.

His honesty about his perspective adds an extra layer of authenticity to his work.

As readers, we can follow his journey of discovery and gain valuable insights along the way.

Learning with Pollan is like embarking on an adventure, filled with new ideas and perspectives.

His writing style invites us to explore and question the world around us, just as he does.

Whether he is writing about food, nature, or human behavior, Pollan's work always offers something fresh and thought-provoking.