Houses in suburbia are becoming too big, too impractical and too impersonal, and that is the central point of Cathleen McGuigan’s essay, The McMansion Next Door: Why the American House Needs a Makeover.
The purpose of the essay is to discuss the awful state the housing market is in at the moment, and how ‘house’ no longer means ‘home’. It also discribes how housing used to be and why it was better then, and why the size of suburbia today is impractical when compared to the size of families today. It’s also a rally cry, letting people know they’re not alone in being sick and bored of New Suburbia.
Thus, this essay is addressed to people who live in suburbia and are tired of what it has become; or addressed to those who, in some way, have to deal with the suburbs, like city dwellers who have to pass through and are freaked out by it.
When I think of suburbia Edward Sissorhands comes to mind: The solid colored houses with the appropriate contrasting-in-color car in the driveway; all the neighborhood men leaving for work at the same time, as if in a practiced dance, and the bored house wives meeting at the corner to gossip. It is creepy and it has no personality, and McGuigan is right, it’s getting worse. I find myself relived to be living in a suburban area that was built in the seventies, where the houses aren’t over-sized and ‘convent controlled’ has lost its meaning. The area is still monotonous but at least it has a little character, and isn’t nearly as wasteful.
Sort of unrelated: I hate the term McMansion. It’s like the sound of fingernails down a blackboard; it’s not a word, it has no purpose, and it’s not clever. For all of our sakes, say mini-mansion or big house, please.
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