Just Finished Reading: Concretopia – A Journey Around the Rebuilding of Postwar Britain by John Grindrod (FP: 2013)

Well this certainly pushed several of my buttons all at once – British post-war history, architecture and design, and even a brief mention of the town I spent my formative years in (ages 10-23). Before reading this I had hardly given such things a second thought or a second glance. I guess that I had been brought up to view concrete ‘brutalist’ architecture as eye-sores and the greatest planning mistake of the last century. This view was certainly reinforced by the almost regular and sometimes theatrical demolition of tower blocks and other bastions of the future. But I realise now that there is much, much more to this so-called ‘urban blight’ than I had ever thought possible.

Of course these things – tower blocks and other concrete constructions – didn’t emerge from nowhere. These futuristic (at least from the viewpoint of the early 20th century) ideas emerged in the 1920’s with the likes of Le Corbusier but only really took form in the great urban reconstruction programmes forced on all European countries after WW2. There was a massive and urgent need for new homes which had to be built quickly and cheaply with the minimum of materials. But things of this scale take time – no matter the urgency – and the first permanent housing projects (not hastily but ingeniously constructed prefabricated dwellings) went up in the 1950’s. The early tower blocks amazed their early residents – they had running water, internal plumbing and even central heating. For residents of aging and overcrowded Victorian slums they were a revelation. After their initial success the only way was up – literally. With taller towers and the concept of ‘streets in the sky’ separating pedestrians from the increasing number of cars on the newly built roads everything looked good and the future was so bright people started buying shades. But not everything was rosy in the concrete jungle of tomorrow.

In hindsight (that wonderful ability) it became clear that haste and lucrative contracts rather inevitably lead to corruption and shoddy construction as companies bid or buy themselves a piece of the action. A case in point being the infamous Ronan Point which partially collapsed after an upper floor gas explosion. This was the beginning of the end for the super-high rise. Then came the trails and convictions for double dealing and graft which did the building contractors, architects and government ministers no favours at all. The concrete future literally came crashing down around their ears with unfinished projects, cut-backs, and eventually demolitions. The dream of a utopian future ended almost before it had begun. It did however leave behind some amazing pieces of architecture that only now, decades later, people are beginning to love and demand to be kept away from the next wave of planners demolition experts.

Part history of the future, part travelogue around 50’s to 80’s Britain, part autobiography and part love affair with the building material of tomorrow this was a surprisingly gripping tale of an idea that literally became concrete. At times I was honestly making a mental list of buildings around the country I wanted to see in all their majesty. It also made me understand the New Town I grew up in much more too. Although I never lived in any of the tower blocks I did visit a few of them in the 1970’s and although my ‘home town’ only got a brief mention the design of other towns turned out to be similar enough for me to completely relate to them in the authors narrative. A must read for anyone interested in post-war Britain, town planning or the marvellous material that is concrete.