I'm sure anything I say about the scholarship of Witold Rybczynski's `The Perfect House' would be superfluous. Mr. Rybczynski has written several books (most of which I've also had the privilege to read) on the history, techniques, and important personages of the architectural trade; he holds a professorship at Penn; he clearly loves his subject matter. I therefore really can't quibble with the fundamental material here; the book is literally stuffed with facts. I did, however, have difficulties with the author's style and structure--which ultimately affected some, though gratefully not all, of his story.
To say that Mr. Rybczynski has an eye for detail would be the grossest of understatements. The book's very format--a visit to nearly every Palladio-designed villa still standing in Italy--seems to encourage the author to discourse on every entablature, frieze, and architrave in sight. If you don't immediately recognize these terms--and would be annoyed by constantly referring to the endnotes--Rybczynski nearly compensates by conveying his clear love for these centuries-old designs. Without sounding defensive, he lets the purpose of his journey (see below) unfold.
As with his other books on architectural history, the author clearly shows in `The Perfect House' how historical, even ancient work remains relevant to 21st century architecture. Palladio's work fits this pattern well: his residential villas - as opposed to, say, royal palaces or working factories -- ooze domesticity and we can attempt to identify with their inhabitant's daily lives. Keeping with this theme, Rybczynski strains to discover by the last chapter what he hints throughout the book as Palladio's "secret"--why his buildings are so *good* (i.e., livable). I'll leave the review-reader in suspense but can assure you the reason is neither overly technical nor actually much of a secret, architecturally-speaking.
If that sounds like a demerit, it's not. This conclusion is actually a great relief from far too many minute spatial descriptions that repeat themselves, villa after portico'd villa. Rybczynski makes every attempt to help the reader *see* what he's seeing in these historic sites, but I ultimately found it a failed exercise. Without the jargon--and the painfully banal personal travel notes ("I munch contentedly, stared outside at the villa ...")--one is left with a well-padded visual journal, full of dimensions and data but far too few images or even straight-ahead descriptive prose.
In a self-defeating note - at least relative to his overarching purpose--Rybczynski even quotes Goethe saying "you have to see these buildings with your own eyes to realize how good they are." In a similar vein, a front jacket perp from The New York Times extols it as "... the perfect traveling companion". Ultimately I have to agree with Goethe and The Times: Palladio's villas should be seen, and this book would be a fine traveling resource. Reading it at home was an informative, inspiring, yet visually frustrating experience.