At Home: A Short History of Private Life – Hannah Biggs

Book Review >>> Hannah Biggs At Home: A Short History of Private Life

Bill Bryson. New York: Doubleday, 2010. 497 pp.

For anyone familiar with Bill Bryson’s witty humor, this book is not one to disappoint. His latest book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, follows the same writing style Bryson has so creatively developed in his previous books—especially in his most well-known work, the nonfiction travel literature piece, A Walk in the Woods. At Home’s language is intelligent, witty, and eloquent. With lines like, “Suddenly, George Washington and Thomas Jefferson come across as having the decorative instincts of hippies,” this book once again asserts Bryson’s place as a comical, fascinating author (318). However, this approximately 500-page book is not for the faint-of-heart. Its premise is deep-seated in historical facts and trivia; in fact, history directs the entire course of the book. At Home takes the reader from room to room of a typical home and discusses the history, both its comedic and dark sides, behind each room of the house and the items each room might contain. The book is ‘chock full’ of unique trivia - some fascinating and worthy to be put in your bag of trivia knowledge to pull out at the occasional dinner party. For instance, Bryson teaches us in “The Bedroom” chapter that the term ‘sleep tight’ stems from the idea that old support systems for mattresses “[were] on a lattice of ropes, which could be tightened with a key when they began to sag” (321). Or, in a chapter entitled “The Passage,” we learn that Thomas Edison, commonly known for his invention of the light bulb, had a fascination with concrete, and “his abiding dream was to fill the world with concrete houses” (223). Other bits are disturbing and make the reader look at the common American home in a completely new light. In “The Study,” Bryson informs us that still today, “hygiene regulations in most places allow up to two [mouse] fecal pellets per pint of grain – a thought to bear in mind next time you look at a loaf of whole grain bread” (240). Or, we learn from the aptly-named chapter “The Stairs” that “even on the most conservative calculations…, stairs rank as the second most common cause of death, well behind car accidents, but far ahead of drownings, burns, and other similarly grim misfortunes” (309). Bryson has taken a unique approach to the history of the home, and invites his reader into the tantalizing, interesting, yet sometimes dry details of the home and the common household items it contains. At Home does not resemble a conventional piece of literature. Rather, it is a conglomeration of historical facts, all strewn together only by the organization of the common home. Bryson takes the reader through his own home, a “former Church of England rectory” in Norfolk (1). Unlike what the book’s introduction suggests, Bryson instead spends a lot of time discussing the history of Norfolk, England rather than the actual, physical house. He discusses historical facts that have vague connections to the actual rooms of the home,

something quite frustrating for the reader. The book is divided into chapters that walk the reader through European and American history and then through the rooms or significant sections of his home such as the hall, the kitchen, the scullery and the larder, the fuse box, the drawing room, the cellar, the passage, the study, the garden, the plum room, the stairs, the bedroom, the bathroom, the dressing room, the nursery, and finally the attic. However, when Bryson attempts to connect the European and American history he has discussed in previous chapters or scattered throughout the home chapters, the transition is not easy to follow and leaves the reader grasping at straws for the overall meaning or theme. The book, despite its intrigue, is quite hard to follow. Yet, this book, to Bryson’s credit, gives an incredible overview of the history of material home life. He unearths fascinating, and often times humorous facts about the most commonplace objects in the home. For instance, who knew that once upon a time, “sofas were daring, even titillating, because they resembled beds and so hinted at salacious repose” (158)? After reading this book, the reader will find that he/she will look at even the most mundane household objects with a new degree of appreciation for the man/woman who created it and the history surrounding that person or item. Bryson informs us that Alexander Graham Bell, known for inventing the telephone, also “invented the iron lung and experimented with telepathy…He invented a metal detector [that was used at President James A. Garfield’s bedside after he was shot]…but [it] gave confused results. Not until much later was it realized that the device had been reading the presidential bedsprings….Bell [also] helped found the journal Science and the National Geographic Society” (229-230). Just another bit of Jeopardy knowledge learned from this book. All in all, this historical nonfiction is not one to be read like a normal, plotted novel. This book is better suited for shorter spurts of reading. History is ever present in this book, and rightly so; however, copious repetitions of dates, names, and facts make this book a slow, sometimes daunting read. This book requires the reader to be very present and active in its reading in order to appreciate or even recall the breadth of historical information in its chapters. This book is not A Walk in the Woods, both in the sense that it is neither extremely pleasurable to read nor as witty and entertaining as Bryson’s best known work. However, if you are interested in knowing a little more about the history of say, your zipper, your bedroom doorknob, or the toilet, this book is for you. Overall, this book is one for the curious reader and will not disappoint the newly-emerging or well-seasoned Bryson fan. Bryson’s level of commitment to historical accuracy and his interest in the home’s details are not easily rivaled. For that reason, it is a fascinating, yet daunting, read.