Product Description

The diversity of contemporary London is extraordinary, and begs to be better understood. Never before have so many people from such diverse backgrounds been free to mix and not to mix in close proximity to each other. But increasingly people′s lives take place behind the closed doors of private houses. How can we gain an insight into what those lives are like today? Not television characters, not celebrities, but real people. How could one ever come to know perfect strangers?
Danny Miller attempts to achieve this goal in this brilliant exposé of a street in modern London. He leads us behind closed doors to thirty people who live there, showing their intimate lives, their aspirations and frustrations, their tragedies and accomplishments. He places the focus upon the things that really matter to the people he meets, which quite often turn out to be material things, the house, the dog, the music, the Christmas decorations. He creates a gallery of portraits, some comic, some tragic, some cubist, some impressionist, some bleak and some exuberant.
We find that a random street in modern London contains the most extraordinary stories. Mass murderers and saints, the most charmed Christmas since Fanny and Alexander and the story of how a CD collection helped someone overcome heroin. Through this sensitive reading of the ordinary lives of ordinary people, Miller uncovers the orders and forms through which people make sense of their lives today. He shows just how much is to be gained when we stop lamenting what we think we used to be, and instead concentrate on what we are becoming now. He reveals above all the sadness of lives and the comfort of things.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #41700 in Books
• Published on: 2009-05-15
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 300 pages

Review
"An outstanding piece of work: a fine example of modern anthropological fieldwork, a powerful corrective to the banal notion that materialism is synonymous with excessive individualism and, perhaps above all, an informed, sensitive, and wholly sympathetic guide to the human diversity to be found through the keyholes of our capital city."
Laurie Taylor, The Independent

"A wonderful and unusual antidote to the fear that humanity and individuality is losing its battle with modern consumerism. In his book, even the most trivial product of consumerism can be rendered almost magical by its owners."
Financial Times

"This book sums up how far social anthropology has progressed since Henry Mayhew wrote about the skull shapes of costermongers in the 19th century."
New Statesman

"A set of delicately drawn pen portraits of lives in a single, unnamed South London street ... this is a book quite out of the ordinary. While you read these pages, this is the street where you live."
Times Literary Supplement

"This is social anthropology at its finest."
Steven Carroll, The Age

"This is the very best kind of micro–ethnography. Miller writes better – and with more insight and compassion – than most novelists. This book will profoundly change the way you look at your friends′ and neighbours′ homes and possessions – and indeed your own."
Kate Fox, Social Issues Research Centre and author of Watching the English

"I am so impressed by Danny Miller′s book. It is so keenly felt and beautifully written, it provides as deep a view of modern Londoners as early anthropologists tried to provide of residents of more distant and exotic zones. Miller has produced a marvelously personal and creative work, provoking us to wonder at the extraordinary attachments of ordinary people. This is a great and lasting achievement."
Sharon Zukin, Brooklyn College

"Through shoe leather fieldwork, human empathy, and unflinching readiness to discern, Daniel Miller shows the central role of material culture in contemporary urban life. An instant classic."
Mitchell Duneier, Princeton University

"An artful antidote to continually demonised consumerism."
Crafts Magazine

"A timely reminder that investing possessions with meaning is proof of humanity rather than inhumanity."
Blueprint

"In this remarkable book Daniel Miller provides an illuminating portrait of people′s relations to the ordinary objects that surround them. The result is a surprising meditation on how we all maintain order in our daily lives."
Viviana Zelizer, Princeton University

Kate Fox, author of Watching the English
"The very best kind of micro-ethnography. Miller writes better - and with more insight and compassion - than most novelists."

Sharon Zukin, Brooklyn College
"I am so impressed by Danny Miller's book. It provokes us to wonder at the extraordinary attachments of ordinary people."

Customer Reviews

It all comes down to relationships
Terrific insight into the meaning of life on a single south London street.

Three main points emerge.

First, there is no such thing as "society" - it is too abstract an idea for most people. But that does not mean people are rampant individualists. People who are solitary individuals are seen as failures.

Second, what really animates people's lives is their relationships, which are embedded in, secured by, the things in their lives - their houses and objects they collect and treasure. The most caring character in the book cares for things - stamps and old cars and for people in equal measure.

Third, the things and the relationships in people's lives need a sense of order - Miller calls it an aesthetic - a sense of balance to sustain people. What most people are trying to achieve is this sense of keeping their relationships in balance, order. They are not rampant consumer individualists and nor are they very interested in the ideals of citizenship. They see themselves as part of tribes.

The lesson for politicians and policy makers is very simple: don't bang on about the dichotomy between - the individual and society - but instead focus on helping people to create and sustain the relationships that count in their lives. Rebuild the state around relationships; reshape the market to sustain relationships. People are not up for collectivism; but nor do they want to lose themselves in fragmented individualism. They want to be sustained by relationships.

Review from 'The Independent' by Laurie Taylor
In common, I suspect, with others whose house is now less a home than an ill-equipped office, I have developed a range of domestic distractions to fend off the demands of work. My current favourites include re-cleaning the bathroom mirror, watering the already well-irrigated plants, and checking that my CDs are still in strict alphabetical order. I'm also capable of more elaborate self-deceptions. Only a few weeks ago, when faced by a particularly dense PhD, I found I'd wandered without any trace of volition into the bedroom where I successfully occupied myself for the best part of an hour with colour-coding my ties.


Now I am able to blame Daniel Miller for an even more enticing distraction. Instead of merely attending to the needs of brute things, I have an anthropological licence to consider what such objects might say about myself. This is much more than a trivial suggestion that my possessions are an adjunct to my identity, elements that accord with my lifestyle. Things, according to Miller, are constitutive of identity. "Material culture matters," he insists, "because objects create subjects more than the other way round". Even more strongly: "the closer our relationships with objects, the closer our relationships with people".

With this hypothesis in hand, Miller and his co-researcher Fiona Parrott set off on a 17-month investigation into the lives and loves and domestic interiors of 30 households in a randomly chosen London street. That word "household" is important. For although Miller's research has all the trappings of an ethnographic community study, he is quick to emphasise that there is no community to be found in the street he studied. Only 23 per cent of the people who answered the door to him were born in London. "People came from everywhere and anywhere, and they were old, young, very gendered and sort of gendered, well off, badly off, and mainly sort of OK off". Neither did they have much to do with each other. "This was not a culture, a neighbourhood or a community".

Rather than this recognition leading Miller into a predictable jeremiad about the fragmentation, alienation and anomie of contemporary urban society, it nicely reinforces his contention that if we wish to look for modern relationships, then we need to look within the confines of single homes, and treat each household "as a tribe". When we do that we find not only that there is a great deal of "connectivity"; we also discover how material things function as a vehicle for all kinds of social interaction.

Consider the Clarke household. "In the bay window is the most perfect Christmas tree, topped by a fairy whose clear features and hand-made white net costume provides the apex to the array of silver and gold baubles and delicately crafted ornaments that adorn every branch and indent the tree offers for decoration". From each ceiling "hangs an elaborate contrivance of circles and spokes from which are suspended a hundred tiny little parcels, wrapped up in green and red crepe". As Miller soon realised, this scene was "the product of a century of devotion to the cultivation of Christmas itself". It is a piece of material culture which is not merely a labour of love but love itself.

When successive generations of children collect their hanging presents and take their place around the tree, they lay at its foot their own experiences and achievements of the year in the form of conversation, listening and appreciation. The Clarkes are as meticulous and devoted to people as to things. And the connection between the two is "nothing obvious or intrusive; rather it flows so naturally that it may take a certain academic, critical distance just to come to an awareness of it being there".

In case this looks too easy a way to make the connection between relationships and things, Miller neatly juxtaposes the Clarke household with George's flat. This was disorienting not because of anything in it, "but precisely because it contained nothing at all, beyond the most basic carpet and furniture". George was not, however, a self-conscious minimalist but someone whose entire life had been characterised by powerlessness, by dependence upon authority, teachers, employers and the state. He had never felt able to take responsibility for anything, let alone the decoration of his own home. "The flat was empty, completely empty, because its occupant had no independent capacity to place something decorative or ornamental within it".

Miller adds that he often encountered horror and tragedy in the interior of people's lives during his time on the street, but "it was particularly after meeting George that we found ourselves in tears outside his flat". Unlike other residents of the street, he could not even find relief from his sadness in the comfort of things.

There are several lorry-loads of other comforting things behind the doors in Miller's London street: collections of plastic ducks and McDonald's Happy Meal toys, mementoes of Franz Ferdinand, bottles of whisky from the Queen's Jubilee, religious images, photographs of reality TV babes, and miniature bottles of foreign liquors. In every case, Miller endeavours to show the parts these material objects play in constituting and organising his subjects' lives.

Not all the connections work. There are times when one almost wishes that Miller would stick with his insightful analysis of the character before him and not keep turning way so assiduously to check what's hanging on their wall. But this is still an outstanding piece of work: a fine example of modern anthropological fieldwork, a powerful corrective to the banal notion that materialism is synonymous with excessive individualism and, perhaps above all, an informed, sensitive, and wholly sympathetic guide to the human diversity to be found through the keyholes of our capital city.


Laurie Taylor presents 'Thinking Allowed' on Radio 4