The Union Buildings in Pretoria was designed by Sir Herbert Baker
Recently, I was listening to a podcast dissecting US writer-director Nancy Meyers’ highly entertaining 2009 rom-com, It’s Complicated.
In the film, Meryl Streep is the apex of a love triangle involving Alec Baldwin — at the peak of his powers, portraying the lovable dirtbag lawyer ex-husband — and Steve Martin, always hilarious, as the architect Meryl meets while remodelling her impossibly large kitchen.
Baldwin gives us everything we’ve come to expect from his excellent comedy performances — fast-paced patter delivered in a husky voice, a deadpan face that never breaks to reveal how aware he is of the ridiculousness of what he is saying, and comedic timing you can set your watch to.
Martin is surprisingly neutered, displaying none of his usual high-energy movement or banter, which I think is in an effort to prove just what a Good Guy his character is.
And Meryl is Meryl, putting on one of her thousand faces and laughing her way through a wonderful interpretation of what could potentially be a trite and derivative character in the hands of a less-skilled actor.
But the quality of the film aside, I mention this podcast for the following reason — at one point, the hosts enter into a vigorous debate about what the best profession is for the Guy Who We Know She’s Going To End Up With.
Since people in rom-coms seem to live lives only tangentially related to reality, there are a disproportionately high number of people who are professionals of some exotic description and/or extraordinarily talented at their jobs. And so, when the podcasters started throwing out prospective careers, they initially suggested things like “trauma surgeon” or “Pulitzer-winning journalist”.
But one profession rose to the top of the list very quickly, like cream on Jersey milk: architect.
Why architect? Well, it’s one of the careers that exists at the intersection of art and science. So, the guy’s smart, but also sensitive and creative. And, of course, there’s always the potential for a scene where he’s wearing a hard hat on a construction site — very masculine and very take-charge. And let’s not forget the money that a successful architect can be in line to make.
Listen, I say this — I am a big fan of rom-coms, if they’re well made. And I have to agree. If the Guy Who We Know She’s Going To End Up With is an architect, I eat that up with a spoon.
My proclivity for cheesy “chick flicks” aside, the reason I mention all of this is because a wonderful and enlightening new book has been released, covering the life and times of an architect who is extraordinarily important in our nation’s history, Sir Herbert Baker.
Now, I love a well-written biography or autobiography more than I love a stupid rom-com. (For the record, my favourite biographical books are all autobiographies: The Second Life by heart transplant pioneer Dr Christiaan Barnard, I Am Ozzy by legendary rock vocalist Ozzy Osbourne and Have A Nice Day! by professional wrestler Mick Foley. But I am well aware of one glaring shortcoming they share — if you are not interested in the subject of the book, it will hold nothing of value for you.
And so it is with this big disclaimer that I proceed with my review of Sir Herbert Baker: A Biography by John Stewart — if historical architecture in South Africa is not interesting to you, then this book won’t be, either.
And I’ll be perfectly honest, Dear Reader, historical architecture in my beloved home country is not really my bag. And, as such, I didn’t really expect to find much of interest in this book.
But I will say I was pleasantly surprised.
For those who don’t know, Sir Herbert Baker was a renowned and respected English architect who lived and worked in the late 19th and early 20th century. While his work was not confined to South Africa, he remains one of the dominant forces in our colonial architectural heritage, having loomed large in it for almost two decades.
So pervasive is his work that, even though you might not have heard of him, you almost certainly have driven past or been inside one of his buildings if you’ve spent any appreciable time in Johannesburg or Cape Town. He counts among his designs multiple government buildings, monuments, prominent exclusive schools and other landmarks. Included in these are edifices as important to our government as the Union Buildings in Pretoria and Groote Schuur in Cape Town.
I, myself, shared a street address with one of Sir Herbert’s houses for several years. When I was a student and living at Knockando Men’s Residence, we resided on land that used to be part of the grounds of Northwards, one of the famous “Parktown mansions” designed by Baker.
I remember being allowed to take a look inside Northwards, and finding myself terribly disappointed that the apartheid-era government had painted many of the interior surfaces that hideous shade of green reserved for so many administrative buildings of the period.
And, typical of a colonial Englishman of his time, Baker lived a very interesting and eventful life. From his youth in Britain to eventual professional engagements in or with South Africa, India, Belgium, France, Kenya, Zimbabwe and even Australia, Baker was not a man who failed to live life to its fullest. And Stewart has done extraordinarily well to not only capture the character of the man, but the spirit of his professional and personal adventures.
Baker was the proverbial “scholar and a gentleman”, possessing a keen intellect and the droll wit of the English gentlemen of the time. In fact, I do think that, had he lived 100 years later, he would have been the perfect Guy Who We Know She’s Going To End Up With for Meryl Streep to swoon over.
All in all, this book is a fantastic read for those who have an interest in the subject matter.