Why We Hate and How to Heal

Them: Why We Hate and How to Heal
 © 2018 Ben Sasse
272 pages

The tenor of civil ‘discourse’ in America today is disheartening and distressful, in part for at least over a decade there has been little discourse at all, only yelling.  We seem less a nation and more a mob of three hundred million people who happen to have some connection with DC. Ben Sasse’s Them  reveals the author (a fairly new senator from Nebraska whose hope has not been ritually smothered in subcommittee meetings)  to be similarly disturbed.   Despite his occupation, however, this is not a book on politics. It is, rather, a citizen’s thinking-over how things deteriorated to this degree and what, if any hope there is for finding our way out of the darkness.  It is a profoundly thoughtful and touching book, and although I don’t know if the course Sasse recommends will necessarily be adequate,  his description of the problem, with his heart fully on the line, is insightful.

The greatest problem, Sasse argues, is loneliness – a profound, sickening loneliness that is undermining our physical, mental, emotional, and civic health. We are living in a profoundly disruptive moment in history, in which the snowball effects of technology are making any sort of vocational stability a joke for many Americans.  A vocation is an important thing: it isn’t merely a means of putting food on the stable, it is a source of meaning for people, even for people who don’t have jobs that allow them to have a profound effect on people, like a teacher, nurse, or artist.   For someone to know that others need them is a vital piece of our interior lives.  Technological change is radically eroding the ability of many people to hold on to it.  This is especially the case in America’s poorer segments, who don’t have the material or social resources to  adapt quickly to the need for change.  The other major  source of our civic loneliness is the fact that so much of civic society has been destroyed, especially the family.  A poor child born to supportive family can climb their way into financial stability, but not one born into chaotic circumstances.  A supportive family is not just the means to a financial end, however:  families give us deep roots to our places, and meaning to our lives.

Our loneliness, alienation, and frustration are only part of the problem, says Sasse; what makes matters far worse is that we are trying to meet our needs for meaning and community by embracing anti-tribes. We sit at home in front of the television, attaching ourselves to ideological stories and personalities, or lose ourselves  for hours on and throughout the day in the constant roar of social media activity.  We are engulfed in a roar of online chatter, and those voices that we hear above the din are the loudest and the angriness. We do not hear the still, small voice of grace or reason — we hear only rage.  And it doesn’t matter if we’re raging against something, or we’re being raged against: either way,  our emotions are quickened,  our minds are stirred, and , we are engaged in poisonous rapture, and kept  addicted. It’s  good for the professional politicians, and it’s wonderful for the hack journalists — but it is woefully bad for America.

What can be done? First and foremost,  unplug from the noise. Sasse argues that we can and must redefine our relationship with the technology that has overtaken so much of our lives in this past decade, and re-prioritize the people who are physically in our lives.  (He and his family have scheduled ‘tech sabbaths’.) Second, people must reject anti-identities — defining themselves by who they oppose — and put politics in its place.   The government should not be used as a bludgeon to attack one’s enemies, and  each of us should labor to hold everyone to the same standards — even if they’re on “our” side. More importantly, however,  Sasse calls readers to be “Americans, again”: to re-affirm our common identity, rooted in the fundamental belief in human dignity declared with our independence on July 4th, 1776.   If we truly took one another’s dignity to heart, we could not rail against one another or ignore  our mutual sorrows.  Tying all these together is the need for humility.  Each and every one of us need to admit to acknowledge that we have our limits; to our knowledge, to our personal virtue, to our ability to control things or fate or one another.

We Americans are plainly in a dark place now,  and this earnest plea from Sasse is a welcome reminder that there are people groping in the darkness, trying to find others and a way out of it.   He is very much the citizen-writer here,  earnestly nonpartisan — quoting from liberals and conservatives alike, acknowledging his own biases as he entreats the reader to consider theirs.   We cannot know now how modern democracies will adjust to the volatile effects of social media, or to the industries of the 21st century.  Continuing to linger in mobwar will only lead to some nightmare like the cultural revolution in China, or greater tyranny still.

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Becoming Mrs Lewis

Becoming Mrs Lewis: The Improbable Love Story of Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis
© 2018 Patti Callahan
415 pages

Few books transfix me in the way that Becoming Mrs Lewis did; I suppose it helps to have a strong affection for ‘Jack’ to begin with.  Reading Surprised by Joy felt less like working on something and more like listening to a friend chat, and Becoming Mrs. Lewis was quite the same way.  It’s the story of Joy Davidman, an American writer who took up writing letters to CS Lewis while struggling with her newfound faith and her illfound marriage.  Though no stranger to deep discussions with women over matters literary and theological, Lewis and his brother Warnie were especially taken with their ‘American friend’, and invited her to visit them should she ever visit England.  She did, of course, seeking refuge from her frustrated artist-turned-drunken lech of a husband, and there fell in love with England, Oxford, and  — Jack.   

Becoming Mrs. Lewis is a curious novel; based much in fact,   and though ostensibly about a romance,  its delivery is far more serious and substantial. Throughout the book, Jack and Joy, and sometimes  his friends in England, are deep in conversation with one another about all manner of things. It’s not quite random, though, because the give and take leads them to new revelations about themselves and God. It is in England,  surrounded by the beauty of Oxford, the English countryside, and the warmth of true friendship, that Joy finds the strength she needs to take a leap and leave her toxic ‘husband’ behind,  beginning a new life for herself and her boys in England.  From there she is free to grow into her a best self — developing her writing,  maturing in faith, and developing a deep relationship with Lewis. That relationship is fascinating to watch grow, as they each wrestle with their inner doubts.  They each have to have an “A-ha” moment before they can embrace one another as husband and wife as well as deep and devoted friends.

Becoming Mrs Lewis is an utterly lovely novel. I read it immediately after watching Shadowlands (and many, many thanks to Hopewell’s Public Library of Life for bringing that gem to my attention!) and was so primed to enjoy it.   The book was so much deeper than I expected, though, in part because the conversations are based on their letters and quotes from the pair. At least, I recognized quite a few Lewisisms, like his wryly noting that if someone thinks Christianity is the key to happiness and comfort, they’d be better off with a bottle of port.  Although I was fairly familiar with Lewis’  and Davidman’s  story — their meeting in correspondence, a friendship turned to love in England, their marriage to one another late in life, and her sudden passing when cancer loomed — I wasn’t bored for a moment here,  enjoying this like precious few other books.

Related:
Surprised by Joy, CS Lewis

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Top Ten Couples Redux

Eight years ago, in another Top Ten Tuesday,  I almost managed to think up ten literary couples I liked. I’ve read…more books since then, so can I think of ten more?

1. Jayber Crow and Mattie. Jayber Crow (Wendell Berry)

I’m really hesitant to write anything here, because the Jayber-Mattie relationship of Jayber Crow is not a conventional love story. In my drafts is an essay called “Love Can Mean More”, and it’s about this relationship, which is so unique.  Suffice it to say,  it demonstrates love is more a giving of self to the other’s benefit,  rather than just being hormone-drunk about someone’s smile or caboose.

2. Jack and Joy, Becoming Mrs. Lewis

This is cheating a bit, because though Mrs. Lewis is a novel,  (one I finished only yesterday, in fact),  it’s closely based on the true story of Joy Davidman and her dear friend, C.S. Lewis — “Jack” to his friends.  I utterly enjoyed this account of their becoming friends, bonding over discussions of literature, philosophy, theology, the beauty of life — as well as the slow deepening of their friendship as they became wedded to one another in thought, in work, and then finally — in fact.   As with The Shadowlands, a movie based on the same relationship, it’s become an instant favorite.

3. Tobias and Rachel, Animorphs

Tobias and Rachel are another atypical couple, though more in the romcom sense. Rachel is your high school queen: beautiful, popular, talented, etc. Tobias…is not. Tobias was on the margins even before he got stuck living in the body of a hawk who regularly dined on mice and rabbits.  And yet these two don’t just come together just for some trope;   Rachel is a little more complex than she appears, and their relationship develops from that, in part. Rachel is wild in her own way, feral in battle, and is far more serious about the war the kids face against Earth’s alien infiltrators than she lets on.  I think their seriousness and isolation links them.

4. Arthur and Molly Weasley, Harry Potter

I loved every bit of the Weasleys I saw in the HP books, and these two must have been incredible parents to have so many strong characters as kids.

5. Parzival and Art3mis, Ready Player One


I thought Ar3mis was cool from the moment Wil Wheaton described her (I first experienced RPO as an Audible presentation), and of course their relationship — along with Parzival’s  friendsihp with Aech —  is one of the most important elements of RPO, reminding them that relationships are far, far more important than glory or wealth.


6. Jane Eyre and Lord whathisname, Jane Eyre

They look so happy, don’t they?
   

Rochester! That’s it.  Jane really is the more memorable of these two, at least for me.  I still like this quote from the novel:

“I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad — as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth — so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am quite insane — quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.”

Rochester who really tests Jane’s decision to hold to those principles, so they as a couple definitely warrant mentioning.

7. John and Abigail Adams, First Family

Okaaaay, so they’re not a fictional couple. But since 2011, I have read an awful lot about the Adams,  and they were an example of iron sharpening iron.  Adams was a formidable figure in the revolution and an admirable — if not widely admired — president,   but I doubt could he could have been so resolute had he not had the good fortune to marry his greatest ally and intellectual equal.

8. Howard Roark and his Skyscraper, The Fountainhead

Theirs was a pairing more doomed than Romeo and Juliet, because the mob had to meddle.  They’ll always be together, though, in that Big Apple in the Sky.

More seriously,  I remember All Other Nights as having an incredibly powerful relationship between a Jewish man serving as a Union spy in the Confederacy, and a southern belle who proves to be a master of intelligence gathering for her own side, but I can’t remember her name.

9. Robin and Marjorie, Come Rack! Come Rope!


Robin and Marjorie are a young couple in love, seriously intent on creating a life together. But then Robin, an ardent Catholic, realizes a call to the  priesthood, despite the mortal peril this will put him in as a resident of Elizabethan England.  After leaning on Marjorie for advice, she does the utterly noble thing  and supports him regardless of his decision —  even though if he becomes a priest they’ll have to be chaste friends instead of husband and wife. 

10. Bertie Wooster and Honoria Glossop, Code of the Woosters

So…Berrtie and Honoria aren’t a couple, but Honoria was the funnest by FAR of Bertie’s intended fiances — those women who Bertie’s wife intended him to marry, anyway, since Bertie was far more interested in drinking and playing the piano than consorting with the fairer sex — and I loved that she made an end-series appearance (dancing!!) on the TV version of the Jeeves and Wooster stories. Unlike most of the women in the series, Honoria has the good sense not to take Bertie seriously — to appreciate or laugh at him just as he is, rather than  fancying him as raw materials for a respectable husband like his aunt and various other personalities do.

And that’s ten! I…mostly made it. I could have dropped John and Abigail and stuck in another purely fictional couple (Hannah and Nathan from Hannah Coulter), but that would have been two from Wendell Berry, and I wanted to avoid duplicating authors.   I really don’t read a lot of fiction.

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Ghost in the Wires

Ghost in the Wires: My Adventures as the World’s Most Wanted Hacker
© 2011 Kevin Mitnick, William Simon. Forward by The Woz.
393 pages

CYBERPUNK introduced me to the story of Kevin Mitnick, a teenage phone phreaker turned celebrity hacker,  who boasted that he never used an outside program to break into a company. Instead,  all of his access was obtained by manipulating people within companies into giving him the information.  Writing later as a security consultant, he explained the workings of this manipulation in the book Art of Deception, which I referred to as “interesting but highly repetitive”. Well….ditto for Ghost in the Wires.  It’s the memoir of a serial, and apparently compulsive, hacker, whose obsession with accessing networks he has no authorization for,  and obtaining information he has no right to have,  utterly consumes his life.  He admits that hacking was like booze for him — his entertainment, his addiction.  Even when he’s barely escaped from one episode, he’s already starting the other….and his enormous pride in getting one over on the hapless clerks,  alarmed security admins, and frustrated federal agents is so hubristic that he routinely calls the FBI or accesses their computer network during investigations to see how close they are to the scent. 

It’s his compulsiveness that does him in time and again: even when he was relatively safe on the run, with a stolen identity (several, actually) and a comfortable job,  Mitnick is so consumed by his desire to hack that it attracts the attention of his employers, who  fire and investigate him. At one point while working there, for instance, he was on his cell phone putting on a presumably awful Japanese accent to convince an engineer that his counterpart in the Tokyo office needed him to upload cellphone source code to a server Mitnick had access to. One of his coworkers heard this outside the door and could only wonder what on earth was going on.)  When the FBI found his scent, it was because he was trying to collect the source codes for a UNIX release, as well as various next-gen cell phones that were hitting the market. Was he selling them to rival businesses? No. He was collecting them as trophies.  Mitnick is the movie villain who undermines himself by  pausing mid-kill to gloat at the hero, or  decides to consign him to a slow death in an elaborate trap.

This book was informative, however;  Mitnick proves to be far more dangerous than I’d previously believed. He wasn’t  just exploring networks as portrayed in CYBERPUNK:   for him, there was no limit to the systems he’d compromise. The DMV, Social Security, Vital Records? Grist for the mill for Kevin to do what he wanted. Admittedly, his technical expertise is admirable, in the same way that Napoleon’s army or the Luftwaffe  were technically admirable.  He certainly wasn’t just relying on people giving him information, as  he frequently applied patches to systems to give himself  backdoor access later on. What’s less admirable is Mitnick’s ability to lie to so many people so habitually, to manipulate them like switches on a board. The act is deeply disturbing in itself, but  what happened to the hundreds of receptionists, clerks, and engineers who became Mitnick’s unwitting dupes? 

While I began this book guardedly sympathetic to Mitnick (impressed by his talents, a little wary of his lying), by the end I regarded him as a compulsive, hubristic ass. I’m glad he’s turned semistraight, in managing to squelch his desire to thwart everyone else,  but the book has virtually no information on that. Was there any soul-searching at all, or was it just a mercenary decision?   Mitnick may be a nice guy in person; he’s friends with Steve Wozniak, who has experience with egotistical personalities before  and would presumably recognize it in Mitnick,  but based on this book I wouldn’t trust him.

Related:
Exploding the Phone
Books by Kevin Mitnick

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Ever wonder how those Animorphs covers were made?

 
The Lazy Game Reviewer,  YouTube’s favorite guide to retrotech, Sims reviews, and computer oddities, finds the program used for  the covers and tries his hand at it. Pretty cool if you were into Animorphs like me! 

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Status Anxiety

Status Anxiety
© 2004 Alain de Botton
 306 pages

Who said “comparison is the thief of joy”?  If they hadn’t, Alain de Botton would, as here he argues that most of our misery comes from the constant comparison of ourselves to others — to their lives, their wealth, their accomplishments.  A book addressing that — marshaling philosophy, art, and religion to diagnose and combat the problem — is arrestingly relevant these days, as it’s never been easier to compare ourselves with our friends, our neighbors, and the people who we went to high school with and who are doing so much more with their lives than we are.  That said, however, it’s incomplete, treating  the human concern for status as something wholly new, something spawned by modern economies and the decline of religious perspectives which once reminded us again and again that we are more than the sum of our parts, that our true valuation lies in something else — like our being created in the image of God, for instance, and possessing inherent dignity. (It should be noted that de Botton is not himself a believer in any creed; he simply appreciates the strengths of religiosity for people and societies, and is presently engaged in creating a secular substitution he calls the School of Life. It sounds a bit like one of those things participants describe, then add “But it’s not a cult.”)  My chief gripe here is that I believe concern for status stems not from economy, but from biology, and de Botton never goes near this.  If chimpanzees constantly wrestle for status within their tribes,  it’s not a farfetched idea to me that humans do something like that as well, and that this instinct has been made a constant obsession by the factors he mentions. That said, I rather liked de Botton’s prescriptions, from Stoic philosophy to an engagement with music, literature, and other art that reminds us of our common frailty.    He’s still one of my favorite people to read, with a graceful pen and a thoughtful mind.

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Well, this is unsettling

In the last couple of months I’ve received spam comments that were eerily good at sounding human. Only the fact that they have nothing at all to do with the posts gives away that they’re spam, but what really gives me pause is the fact that I don’t see the hook. There’s no link to anything in any of these.  Maybe that’s because they haven’t been approved as comments, but I’m not convinced that’s the case.

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The measure of a man

I am presently reading Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton, and in it he quotes a bit from Michel de Montaigne which is worth sharing.

“A man have have a great suite of attendants, a beautiful palace, great influence and a large income. All that may surround him, but it is not in him…Measure his height with his stilts off; let him lay aside his wealth and his decorations and show himself to us naked….What sort of soul does he have? Is his soul a beautiful one, able, happily endowed with all her functions? Are her riches her own or are they borrowed? Has luck had nothing to do with it? ….That is what we need to know; that is what the immense distances between us men should be judged by.”

p. 188.

I couldn’t help but be reminded from a quote from Marcus Aurelius, too:

“Everything in any way beautiful has its beauty of itself, inherent and self-sufficient: praise is no part of it. At any rate, praise does not make anything better or worse. This applies even to the popular conception of beauty, as in material things or works of art. So does the truly beautiful need anything beyond itself? No more than law, no more than truth, no more than kindness or integrity. Which of these things derives its beauty from praise, or withers under criticism? Does an emerald lose its quality if it is not praised? And what of gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a dagger, a flower, a bush?”

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The Big Ones

The Big Ones: How Natural Disasters Have Shaped Us (and What We Can Do About Them)
© 2018 Lucy Jones
256 pages

Earth is not a peaceful place; even it were stripped of all life, it would still teem with energy, from vast tectonic plates below, to the rolling seas and fantastic lightening storms above.  Much of that energy is put to use by human ingenuity, but sometimes it lashes out in displays that destroy hundreds or thousands of lives and undermine what we’ve built. The Big One reviews some of the greatest recorded disasters to strike human civilization, mixing science and history, and closes with some general advice  to the public on how to think about disaster preparation and emergency management.

Jones’ background is in seismology, so it’s probably no surprise that most of the disasters chronicled here are earthquakes. But disasters that  make history — the ‘big ones’ that people remember  — are rarely by themselves. The great San Francisco earthquake, for instance, did great direct damage, but its greatest impact was the fires it helped create and feed.  Likewise, for the Fukushima affair; the earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan were formidable in themselves, but they compromised and accelerated the demise of a nuclear reactor and led to an altogether different kind.  The most recent ‘big ones’ covered in this book are the Christmas 2004 tsunami that affected sixteen countries and killed nearly three hundred thousand people, and the Fukushima event.  There are some here which have nearly no name recognition (like the massive earthquake that struck immediately after the chaos of the Cultural Revolution in China, and some I’ve seen mentioned in other books, like the earthquake and fire that destroyed over eighty percent of Lisbon in 1755. 

In addition to discussing the science behind disasters — why they happened, what specific forces are causing various calamities, why some earthquakes are more disastrous than others  — Jones also addresses the long-term effects of these disasters when possible. The timing of the Lisbon earthquake — on All Saint’s Day, during the morning when all the churches were full of faithful parishioners celebrating the memory of saints present and pass —  could not have been better timed for mass death, and it shook the faith of many, just as the Holocaust would centuries later.   Japan and China’s traditional way of explaining disasters, as distortions of yin and yang, would be challenged by “big ones’ during the dawn of modernity as well.  The disasters around the Mississippi — a great flood and then Katrina — also  bring up a discussion of race, and the US government’s first forays into federal emergency management. Jones defends FEMA during Katrina, however, arguing that the great failures there happened on the ground, as both the city and state officials were not communicating with one another or with FEMA enough to be at all effective.   In one of the few non-earthquake examples,  Jones points to greater international information-sharing as a result of the 2004 tsunami.   (Which…was triggered by an earthquake. We’re really never far removed from that!)

All said, this is an interesting history of how  a few earthquakes have altered nations’ responses to disaster response, driving the desire to learn about them and find realistic politics to cope with the aftermath — topped with advice to citizens at the end that’s a little generic (“Educate yourself”). It’s not as wide-ranging as I’d hoped, since most of the disasters were earthquakes, but keeping this subject in mind is good for any citizen today. Future disasters will effect proportionally more people, as the global population swells and concentrates, and as the globe becomes fully industrialized we will have more distortive effects on the environment.  Emergency awareness and management should be near to the forefront not just for citizens, but for every level of government.

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Happy City

Happy City: Transforming Our Lives through Urban Design
© 2013 Charles Montgomery
368 pages

City air makes one free, but — happy? Throughout the 20th century, Americans fled the urban centers seeking Arcadian bliss. They didn’t find it, and despite an abundance of material wealth the nation continues to writhe in anxiety.  We’re addicted to medication, legal or otherwise;  many live lives of quiet desperation, and others lash out violently in scenes that horrify the imagination.  The suburban experiment was a failure from the start, says Charles Montgomery, because we were made for one another. In leaving the cities to decay, we uprooted ourselves from the social fabric which sustains us. It doesn’t have to be this way; we can come home to the village, even to the city. We can restore our cities to the picture of health, and ourselves in the bargain. Montgomery’s Happy City is a masterful work,  bringing together Greek philosophy, urban economics, and social commentary.

Why care about the city? Globally, the human race is half-urbanized, using a loose definition for urban that includes suburban sprawl. The semi-urban forms we choose to live in can either contribute  to our well-being by meeting our needs, or they can serve to frustrate us. Montgomery opens  with a review of what constitutes ‘happiness’  and its connection to the urban form. There are sound objective reasons for wanting to make the setting of most human lives ‘better’;  traditionally-planned cities are more economically productive and allow for both greener and healthier lives by making it easy for people to walk or bike to work, for instance. Montgomery touches on these arguments, but he’s not just writing to city planners or mayors who hold the fate of others in their hands. He writes to appeal to the common citizen, someone less interested in return-on-investment breakdowns and more concerned with the quality of everyday life.  Being able to walk to work or shops is good for our bones and good for the air, but it’s also good for our spirits; we’re not dependent on a car, we’re out in the fresh air, we’re seeing and being seen.  There are material pleasures to consider, of course; the concentration of diverse restaurants and stores in dense neighborhoods, and the bliss of pedaling down to the library through leafy streets , but there is more to the human experience than simple sensuality…even though there’s nothing like a well-placed park to relax stressed brains.

We are political creatures, wrote Aristotle, not because we like to vote and share “Hooray For Our Side” memes on Facebook, but because people like other people. We like to watch people; we like to bump into them   We don’t like to be crowded against people, however; there are tricky dynamics at work that the design of cities and the buildings within have to account for. There’s a big difference, for instance, between apartment buildings that are designed around impersonal corridors, and those designed around suites that allow people to occupy a goldilocks area between the private and public realms. The front porch of southern homes in the US had the same effect in detached housing, allowing just the right amount of engagement and privacy. Montgomery is sneaky, exposing readers to brief chats about building codes  and housing policy while offering touching stories about people coming together to make their lives together.  In one neighborhood, for instance, residents turned an intersection into a public square by painting it and filling it with places to sit and talk.  They did this over the protests of the municipal government, which had steadily ignored residents’ request for traffic-calming measures at that intersection.  A happy city is one where people can be agents in their own lives. Montgomery also stresses that a happy city is one that works for everyone, where even the poor and marginalized can feel like members of the city, and not just clients of its social services office. He goes into many examples of how even something mundane like traffic infrastructure can frustrate or quicken the ability of a person to thrive.  

Happy City is a supremely thoughtful book on what makes happy, and why urban design is important  in cultivate it.  America is plainly in a bad way judging by the politicians we favor with success.  Maybe we don’t know what we want — from one another, from the places we live. I think Happy City can help with directions. When I first heard someone speak on the importance of the urban form to human flourishing, I was blown away by the insight — and that came from a grating critic. Montgomery is far more amiable, though not less impassioned.  The book itself offered a look at places that were healthy and growing more so, and both the information it provides and the examples it shows are tremendously encouraging.  

As a final note, this review has been a work in progress since  2015, and the state of it above is more or less the state it’s been in since then. I’ve read the book twice since then, and re-skimmed it a few times more, and every time I just can’t hit the button.  Maybe I just don’t want to stop thinking about the book? At any rate, it’s one of my very favorites. 



Related:
Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam
The Great Good Place, Roy Oldenburg, both on the human need for connection and ‘place’.
The Geography of Nowhere, James Howard Kunstler, a history of suburban malaise
Walkable City,  Pedaling Revolution, and Straphanger 
It’s a Sprawl World After All, Douglas Morris, focusing on sprawl’s impact on the human need for community.
The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Jane Jacobs; Thoughts on Building Strong Towns, Chuck Marohn; and Suburban Nation, Andreas Duany
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