DARUSHIMO

I picked this book up out in Portland, Oregon. Out there for a conference, this was my first time in Portland. The city sat like a gem in my mind for years, a northwest Mecca of pleasant living and educated population. When my boss told me we needed to attend a conference there, for once I didn’t gripe. But somehow, the city disappointed me, in much the same way this book did. Both held out an intriguing promise and both fell short, not from lack of expertise, but from good intentions.

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Rybczyncki obviously knows what he’s talking about. And I think that’s ultimately his problem. He sticks to what he knows. The book is clean, scrubbed of the messiness that makes cities so interesting. […] Facts and trends are revealed, but only one idea surfaces. In some ways this primacy of focus must be commended. The information is conveyed clearly and concisely. Rybczynski runs no risk of being called out on a theory that might prove wrong. The closet he treads to controversy is admitting a fondness for the mall.

Outlandish theories need not be the goal. But there the book offer so little to disagree with you almost feel like you didn’t learn anything. It seems Rybczyncki with his gentile sensibility, has no wish to offend.

Portland’s all clean lines, small blocks and mixed usage. The perfect city. Walkable and drivable. As I was strolling around, wasting time I should have been spending at the conference, the city tried to seduce me. Climbing the hills into the Rose Garden, I actually heard the city whisper to me, “Move here. Move here. Look around you. How nice is this? Leave dirty, loud New York. You can live here. You can be upper middle class too; drive an SUV Volvo, live in a pretty wood house painted dark green, go running in the hills, shop at the organic farmers market.” My stomach warmed over the fantasy, as if I just drank a full glass of warm water. It seemed life would have no problems, if I lived in Portland. I would forget about Lisa; my career would trundle along; I would go to more dinner parties. Everything had been thought out. And that would kind of suck. Plus, I remembered: I hate driving, I don’t run and I never cook. But the city plan is good.

And somehow “City Life” reminds me of this feeling. The prose whisks you along, laying facts before you. I actually underlined quite a bit. But then I got to the last twenty pages, realized there’s not much left and asked, “That’s it?”

I met a city planner out in Portland who extolled to me, “Portland has more jazz clubs than any other city in the U.S. other than New York.” Which made me think, jazz may be dead.