People say the book changes their life, by which I think they mean it changes the way they physically organize their life, and maybe the way they perceive as well. What Alexander and his co-authors set out to do was collect and organize the elements that make buildings loved, that make buildings "live." Freed from modernity, they teased out the deep-dwelling "pattern language" that people understand buildings with. (No wonder that "vernacular buildings" so command our respect--they are framed to pattern language forms.)
Being a friend and neighbor in Berkeley, Chris kindly signed the copies GBN is sending out. If this book appeals, I suggest getting its conceptual and philosophical prequel, The Timeless Way of Building (Oxford University Press, 1979). It explains how to think this way about anything.
--Stewart Brand
A building cannot be a human building unless it is a complex of still smaller buildings or smaller parts which manifest its own internal social facts.
If there is a beautiful view, don't spoil it by building huge windows that gape incessantly at it. Instead, put the windows which look onto the view at places of transition--along paths, in hallways, in entry ways, on stairs, between rooms.
When they have a choice, people will always gravitate to those rooms which have light on two sides, and leave the rooms which are lit only from one side unused and empty.
Make sure that you treat the edge of the building as a "thing," a "place," a zone with volume to it, not a line or interface which has no thickness. Crenelate the edge of buildings with places that invite people to stop. Make places that have depth and a covering, places to sit, lean, and walk....
Balconies and porches which are less than six feet deep are hardly ever used.
Vary the ceiling heights continuously throughout the building.... In particular, make ceilings high in rooms which are public or meant for large gatherings (10 to 12 feet), lower in rooms for smaller gatherings (7 to 9 feet), and very low in rooms or alcoves for one or two people (6 to 7 feet).
