Gavin Stamp (1948–2017)

I came across ‘The Memorial to the Missing of the Somme’ via [a:Owen Hatherley|2871671|Owen Hatherley|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1445556151p2/2871671.jpg]’s twitter, where he recommended it as a particularly good book about architecture. Indeed, the writing style is quite similar to his own: exacting, thoughtful, alternately generous and waspish. At first I doubted that a single war memorial, however magnificent, could merit two hundred pages of discussion. I swiftly became interested, however, despite having only vaguely heard of Edwin Lutyens before. (I’d come across him as a designer of mansions with gardens by Gertrude Jekyll, who he collaborated with.) It seems he was an architectural genius and a rather maddening man, constantly making puns. He revered Christopher Wren and coined the term ‘Wrenaissance’. Despite this perpetual levity he was responsible for the Whitehall Cenotaph, as well as the Thriepval Arch on one of the most deadly battlefields the world has ever known. This visually fascinating multi-arched memorial contains the names of all 73,357 men of the British army who vanished in the Battle of the Somme.

Stamp gives an outline of the battle and its appallingly destructive pointlessness: the British suffered 419,654 casualties, the French 204,253, and the Germans somewhere between 450,000 (German estimate) and 680,000 (British estimate). The front line moved barely three miles during those months of slaughter. Such gargantuan, senseless killing deserves a serious effort at collective remembrance. Accordingly, Stamp praises the British authorities for creating a series of striking monuments that convey sorrow rather than bombast. No-one won the Battle of the Somme. The village the arch is named after, Thriepval, was so thoroughly obliterated that its exact location was lost forever. The ground was so dense with corpses that when a visitors centre was being constructed in 2004, the bodies of seven German soldiers were uncovered. The book balances these horrors with a clear account of Lutyens, and of the architectural references drawn upon to honour the sacrifices of the lost without glorifying the war.

Stamp argues convincingly for the lasting impact of this particular memorial, although I was less convinced by his relative disdain for the French efforts (for example the Verdun memorial which is also an ossuary). I’d have to see both to make a judgement and this book made me think it would be worth doing so. This is unusual for a book on architecture, as I usually read them as a comfortable sofa-based substitute for going to places myself. Stamp’s well-evidenced passion for this specific monument is infectious. Even if you have no specific interest in war memorials, I recommend this elegantly expressed and powerful book. It is an excellent non-technical architectural history and a moving paean of praise.… (more)

Stamp's opinions about good and bad architecture seem reasonable, and he is willing to change his mind from time to time. But a book about architecture really needs lots more illustrations and pictures than this one has. You'll be constantly googling these buildings to know what they are, unless perhaps you are an architecture buff who lives in England already. Still, there are lots of good stories and well-supported opinions here, particularly the author's scorn of most modern architects, but especially sculptors. Statues belong on plinths! Not on the ground where people can take selfies with them. I tend to agree.… (more)