Michael Pollan had a dream. He envisioned a small building on his property, a place where he could retreat into solitude and engage in his favorite activities of reading and writing.

It was to be a space entirely his own, with a pleasant view that would enhance his property rather than looking like an outbuilding haphazardly placed in the backyard. "A Place of My Own" chronicles the couple of years he spent with his friend, an architect, and a contractor/carpenter, as they worked to bring his dream to fruition.

Pollan initially thought he could build it himself with relative ease, but he quickly realized that he required some assistance. There was so much more involved in creating his "simple vision" than he had anticipated. However, in the end, what he was left with was precisely what he wanted and needed.

I have read Pollan's "Food Rules" and appreciate his straightforward approach, which is laced with a touch of sarcastic humor. I believe many people can identify with the desire to construct a dream home or a special space to call their own. This book serves as a reminder that sometimes you have to put in hard work to achieve your dreams, and they may not always be as straightforward as you might think. If you ever have plans to build, you might want to give this book a read. I will admit that at times he goes on a bit too long about architectural theories and ideals, but I love the underlying sense of humor he employs.

Nonfiction 1 of 12 for 2025.

I had already developed a fondness for Michael Pollan's documentaries when I picked up this book. However, I had never really made a serious attempt to read his actual books. I came across this particular one at the Fallingwater gift shop, which offers a breathtaking view of one of the remarkable achievements in American architecture. Given the leaky nature of FW, Pollan's utilization of Wright's quote that a roof that doesn't leak indicates an architect who didn't fully harness their imagination brought a smile to my face.

By no means am I a student of architecture. But I am a student of spirituality, with the broader and deeper concepts of life as my guiding purpose. (Goodness, now I'm writing just like Pollan!)

Anyway, this is my second attempt at reading this. It is an ingenious blend of the esoteric that we can uncover in our daily lives. Who on earth would have thought about why walls are at a 90-degree angle to the floor and ceiling and the profound significance that the transition from blown glass to sheet glass windows would have on our psyche? Pollan contemplated these aspects while painstakingly constructing this glorified and overly designed shed with his own two hands.

This book has echoes of Bill Bryson, another individual who undertakes activities simply to write about them - the hilarious observations about the eccentric sidekicks Pollan encounters along the way.

This book has ignited a desire within me to claim a corner of my bedroom for my very own private study. It has also made me want to purchase a set of professional-grade chisels and engage in whittling just like in The Woodwright’s Shoppe. It serves as a wonderful reflection on our longing for our own special space, our need to reestablish a connection with nature and the un-electronic way of doing things, and our requirement to take the time to truly appreciate and engage.

Throughout the entire book, there is very little mention of how else Pollan spends his time - the wife and the infant to toddler who inhabit the house in which he actually resides, not the one he builds. It presents a romantic and idealized perspective on how to spend our time. If only all of us could be writers and earn a living through such dedication.

Meh.

This article, although well researched, comes across as a bit dry.

The information presented is detailed and likely the result of thorough investigation, but it lacks that certain spark to truly engage the reader.

However, there is a redeeming quality.

The part about feng shui was genuinely humorous.

It added a touch of lightness and entertainment to an otherwise somewhat dull piece.

Perhaps if the author had found a way to infuse more of this humor throughout the article, it would have been more enjoyable to read.

Overall, while the research is commendable, the article could benefit from some additional creativity and a more engaging writing style to make it more accessible and interesting to a wider audience.

This is a book that delves into a somewhat panoramic view of a novice's exploration of architecture through the construction of a rather charming treehouse in Pollan's backyard. From the ancient Vitruvius to the modern Venturi Scott Brown architects, and even with brief nods to Frank Lloyd Wright, Pollan embarks on an architectural journey through the building of his own backyard "sanctuary".

Combining the style of an investigative writer, Pollan provides a detailed blow-by-blow account of activities such as launching ridge beams or the sometimes humorous banter between the carpenter and the architects. In his classic style, he even weaves in some of the sociological history of building and its associated rituals, like the celebration of topping out a structure. For example, if you've ever noticed a tree placed on top of a steel structure during construction, that's an instance of the "topping out" ritual. It's quite amusing that Pollan would hold a "topping out" ceremony for the ridge beam of his backyard shack.

Overall, this book is interesting, although it could perhaps benefit from an editor. There are many words that might seem a bit excessive for the sake of writing. Nevertheless, it offers an engaging novice's perspective on architecture through the building of Pollan's mini dwelling in the woods of his backyard.

This might have potentially made for a great addition to a treehouse masters program. I'm not entirely convinced that it's a mainstream book on the same scale as Pollan's Omnivore book. It could also be a valuable resource for a lecture at a top-tier architecture school or a book that one might find in the architecture section at DeMenil. If you have ample disposable income and are eager to erect your own treehouse masterpiece in the backyard, it would无疑 be a good read. Otherwise, its utility is rather limited to a small niche of readers. I would rate the book 4 stars for entertainment within that very small niche, but only 3 stars for anyone outside that niche, as there aren't as many opportunities for a broad audience to engage with it compared to a 5-star book like "Telling Image" by Lois Stark, even though it might fit within a similar genre, albeit with significantly less depth.

3.75 Stars

This rating of 3.75 stars indicates a relatively good performance or quality. It shows that the subject being evaluated has many positive aspects. However, it also implies that there may be some areas that could be improved upon.

Perhaps there are a few minor flaws or不足之处 that prevent it from receiving a perfect 5-star rating. Nevertheless, 3.75 stars is still a respectable score, suggesting that the item or service is worthy of consideration.

It could be a product that functions well, a service that meets most of the customer's needs, or an experience that leaves a generally positive impression.

Overall, while not flawless, the 3.75-star rating indicates that the subject has a significant amount of value and is likely to satisfy many people.

This book was good, but it could have been 100 pages shorter.

His small writing house serves as the context for exploring architectural philosophy, specifically the contrast between nature and culture, and Hereness and Thereness. However, that particular part made me feel a bit sleepy.

Nonetheless, I did appreciate how he presented this dichotomy in the book. Each chapter commences with him and his carpenter and architect working on the actual house (here), and then gradually evolves into discussions about architects that I had to research further, as well as the historical contexts for design features or the absence thereof (there).

This approach added an interesting layer to the narrative, although the overall length of the book could have been more concise to maintain a stronger reader engagement.

Michael Pollen is an outstanding researcher and writer, and he reads his own work extremely well.

Since I designed my own place and took into account many of the same aspects that he did, I discovered that his approach was truly fascinating.

I especially relished the chapters on the design process. However, I was a bit disappointed that he enlisted an architect and spent a significant amount of money, while I utilized standard lumber, a tiny house builder, and a very modest budget. Nevertheless, we still had numerous commonalities. I highly valued his research into housing styles, particularly because Frank Lloyd Wright is one of my favorites. The philosophy of style is delightfully intricate and engaging.

Overall, it was a great read that provided valuable insights and inspiration for my own design journey.

**"3.5 Stars"**

3.5 stars is an interesting rating. It falls somewhere between a solid three and a nearly perfect four. It indicates that a product, service, or experience has its strengths but also some areas that could use improvement. When we see a 3.5-star rating, it makes us curious. We wonder what aspects were really good and what might have held it back from getting a higher score.

Perhaps the quality of the item was great, but the packaging could have been more appealing. Or maybe the service was friendly and efficient, but there were a few minor glitches during the process. A 3.5-star rating can be a valuable guide for consumers. It helps us make more informed decisions, as we can consider both the positive and negative aspects before making a choice.

In conclusion, 3.5 stars is a rating that tells a story. It shows that there is potential for something to be even better, and it gives us hope that with a little more effort, it could reach that higher level of excellence.

This book made me realise why I could not become an architect.

No, it was not Maths. That was the first and obvious reason. But in recent years, I had this nagging feeling that because I love art, maybe I should have become an architect. However, reading this book made me realise that Thank God I am not an architect.

Architecture involves too much woolgathering for my taste. The kind of woolgathering I don't like, with too many theories and philosophising. I didn't know that this fanciful existence is more common in the field of architecture and not just limited to paper architecture. According to the author, some buildings need accompanying words to describe what the architects are trying to achieve with their design. I think that's true for many buildings I've seen in person and online.

But this book also has too many theories and philosophising, and it was a real struggle to get through. I got the impression that our author, like many architects, probably has his head in the clouds.

However, it got much better when the author talked about practical things related to carpentering and building. At the beginning, this was rare, but as we got further into the book and the writing house the author was building became more and more real, the writing also became more down to earth.

So I realised that it was never architecture that I should be interested in. Instead, it was the more detailed and painstaking work of actually building a building - being a builder, a contractor, a carpenter. Sadly, I'm all thumbs and not good at using my hands or anything practical. So this career path would have been closed to me anyway, just like architecture was barred by Maths. Thankfully, the world hasn't lost anything.

But this book was definitely a change for me. Although at the beginning I thought I might regret picking it up and couldn't wait for it to be over, halfway through it grew on me. By the end, I think I'll actually miss it, miss reading the author's thoughts about this writing house of his. Maybe, in twenty years, I'll even pick it up again to read. But not without skimming through some parts.

I think this will be my last Michael Pollan book for a while.

I find his style a bit too pompous and obnoxious.

It's not that the content is not interesting, but his writing manner sometimes makes me feel uncomfortable.

However, there was one chapter that I did enjoy.

It was the chapter on windows.

He had to go and research how to build windows that open inwards, which led him to the Greene and Greene house designs at the NYPL.

This part was quite fascinating as it took me on a journey of discovery along with him.

I learned about different architectural styles and the importance of details like window design.

But overall, due to his writing style, I don't think I'll be picking up another of his books in the near future.

Maybe I'll come back to him later, but for now, I need a break.

Boring. It's such a dull and uninteresting state. I find myself constantly in this rut, unable to focus on anything for long.

And to make matters worse, I can't even remember if I finished what I was supposed to do. It's like my mind is in a fog, and all the details are just slipping away.

I try to push through the boredom and get things done, but it's so hard. My motivation is lacking, and I just feel like giving up.

Maybe I need to find something new and exciting to do, something that will stimulate my mind and get me out of this funk. But for now, I'm just left here, feeling bored and forgetful.

Michael Pollan makes it clear from the outset that his desire to construct a writing house, especially with his own hands, stems from a growing exhaustion with the uncertain, unstable, and metaphorical realm of words.

He covets the world of tangible things and anticipates that the unfamiliar and all-too-real process of erecting his own writing haven will serve as a remedy for the increasingly abstract nature of his work. That's great. However, after completing the building, to then sit down and pen a book about the entire process, he must have intended to bring it back into the metaphorical world.

This is the irony and the flaw of "A Place of My Own." Aren't we readers also builders in the abstract? The increasingly meticulous detailing of the construction progress, interspersed with architectural history lessons that seem more like Pollan's reading journal as he reaches various stages in his building, fails to fulfill the metaphorical promises of the subtitle "the architecture of daydreams."

Pollan's journey, while interesting, perhaps doesn't quite achieve the lofty goals he set for himself in this exploration of the intersection between the physical and the metaphorical in the context of his writing space.