MR. T. writes:

I have been reading your delightful blog for many months, but this is my first comment.

Your post and thread on small houses resonated deeply with me. I grew up in the U.S.A., in a medium-sized house, but have lived most of my adult life in Hong Kong. Property here is expensive in a way only people in the ritziest environs of Manhattan can imagine. My wife, daughter and I live in a flat that’s listed at about 900 square feet, but all Hong Kong people know that’s a fiction. The ‘building area’ for a Hong Kong flat includes a share of the elevator lobby, windowsills, walls, and other unusable space. Our actual living area is closer to 600 square feet.

In this space, which might well fit in toto within a McMansion’s living room, we have a kitchen, two bathrooms, a living room and three bedrooms. As you can imagine, none of these rooms is very big, and a couple of our bedrooms would be derided as inadequate as closets in the U.S.A.

But I have grown to first tolerate, and then enjoy, life in these conditions. As other commenters have noted, having limited space for storage engenders a particular attitude to possessions. They cannot be hoarded. Closets are tiny, so huge wardrobes of seldom-worn outfits are counterproductive. My biggest regret is that books must be limited; not only is there little space, but the brutal heat and humidity here degrade them rapidly.

Our flat is part of an enormous development that comprises 15 50-story towers. It’s not the life for everyone, but the hive-like nature of the towers is mitigated by a wonderful clubhouse that offers pools, sports facilities, meeting rooms, common areas, etc. We’re also fortunate to be right on the coast, so we have a nice view, and we can walk just 15 minutes up from our building to hiking trails in Hong Kong’s equivalent of a national park.

This small-scale living is also environment-friendly. Little land is used, public transport is feasible at such high levels of population density (we don’t have a car), and most of our daily needs can be met by frequenting businesses within easy walking distance.

If I ever start feeling sorry for myself about being cramped, I think about my wife’s childhood: she grew up here in Hong Kong in a family of five – in a 100-square-foot room. That was the norm here within quite recent times.

—- Comments —–

Laura writes:

Thank you for writing. Interesting. What you say about living in Hong Kong reminds me of some of the cultural pressures Americans face to make their homes large.

Americans end up in communities with virtually no public space and no settled ties. The cities are unsafe and dominated by an anti-family way of life. Of course, space is plentiful outside the cities, but venturing into open space and throwing up communities overnight has disadvantages.  Americans end up striving for communal space within their homes. While Mr. T. can escape his small dwelling by going to common areas, places where he might even have a sense of privacy while being with many people, an American suburban dweller can’t do this except by getting in the car and driving to ugly malls. There may be no sidewalks. It may be difficult to even take a walk.

The McMansion with its cathedral ceilings is built with social gatherings, not everyday living, in mind. You have to understand this mentality in order to grasp the large American home. Materialism is a major factor, but the bloating of the American home also represents the unconscious desire for what is good, for public space and civitas. Unfortunately, it does not provide those things well. It provides false comfort where there is a lack of civic life. Much of this phenomenon is tied to the loss of traditional sex roles.

Unfortunately, once the norm of the large home is created, people lose the ability to socialize in small quarters. At least, that’s what I have noticed. We live in a small house in an area of large houses. I have noticed that people who are used to large houses are disoriented when they come to a small house. They are not used to the intimacy of it. I have dealt with this problem by making our garden an inviting open space.

Jaako writes:

I’ve been reading your site every now and then for some time and now that there was interesting topic again, I decided to pop by. First of all, thanks for your interesting blog! I’m Finnish and am reading your thoughts from a Finnish perspective. It seems to me that we are behind (but steadily following) the U.S. in most issues you write about.

In this topic we still seem to be quite much behind you. The average size of new houses here (all types) is roughly 915 sq.ft. and for one-family houses it’s 1550 sq.ft. This number doesn’t include garages. Typically there is one bathroom (with sauna allways) and two toilets. However, there is much discussion in public nowadays of how much space people really need for living and last year was the first time in years that the size reduced a bit. I think my family is typical. We lived with two small children in 630 sq.ft, in 860 sq.ft house with three children and in 970 sq.ft. house with four. Now we’ve built a new house for six of us with 1370 sq.ft. although I plan to build a two bedroom addition within 5-10 years for children when they grow bigger. We kept the plan very simple to reduce the costs. The only places where we have a bit of “premium” are kitchen and the utility room because those are the main working areas for my wife who stays home with children. We are very comfortable in this house at the moment. You don’t need much space when you sleep and during the day we want to stay in the living areas together, not scattered in many different rooms around the house. So we did just like you suggested, kept the house reasonable to ensure that my wife can stay at home.

I still have to say that houses here in Finland are not cheap at all. We have high taxes, a harsh climate which is why the houses are built to really keep cold out and high energy prices. So my guess is that an average Finn still pays as much or more than you there in U.S.

Anyway, the main thing in both countries is what you have so well embraced here. Family and especially the well-being of our children should be priority number one and rest should serve that purpose. The size of our houses is one of the very least important things in life.

Laura writes:

Thank you for writing. I agree: “The size of our houses is one of the very least important things in life.”

Diana writes:

I agree with your main point about the size of housing. It is unnecessary, wasteful, and indicative of leading a way of life that is based more on presentation than true value.

Having said this, I disagree with the “one bathroom is enough” philosophy. I grew up in a two-up and two-down with one bathroom until I was 9. We then moved to a private home. I honestly do not know what the square footage was. It was bigger than the Levittown home my cousins lived in but way smaller than today’s McMansions.  (It was built in 1917.)

The home had a bathroom upstairs and….a water closet on the first floor! I remember how we all felt incredibly grateful for that one extra convenience. Perpetual forced intimacy is sometimes repulsive.
Being the only girl in a family of boys, I wanted some distance. One extra bathroom did that trick nicely.

My cousins out in Arizona live in a small, beautifully built home north of Tucson. The neighborhood is full of recently built sprawlers that destroy the charming character of the old neighborhood. The house has two bathrooms, a big one and a small one adjoining a guest room. The extra bathroom doesn’t destroy the integrity of the house at all.

So I agree with you in principle. No house needs 4 bathrooms. But please, give me two.

Laura writes:

One bathroom is not ideal.

But often a small house can accomodate one full bathroom and what we charmingly call in America “a powder room.”

Diana writes:

 Commenter Sarah writes: “My priorities are simple. I want something well built, homey (not huge), and in a nice neighborhood for my children.”

Amen to that. The most important thing for your kids isn’t the size of the house, but good neighbors. For that, I’d relent on the second bathroom. In fact, I’d say buy a home with an outhouse, if the area has good neighbors! Parents have a responsibility to be parents inside the home, but once your kid is out the door, his life is literally in the hands of your neighbors, his peers. Can you put a value on that?

Kendra writes:

I have gone full circle on this issue.

When I was 5 years-old, my mother and stepfather purchased a mansion built in 1901. We went from a 600-square-foot house with one bathroom to 8,520 square feet with three bathrooms with claw-foot iron tubs and marble walls. The house had five wood-burning fireplaces, giant columns on the front porch, a front balcony, a servant’s quarters which could be accessed from a secret back stairway, a 3-level dumb waiter, a third-floor ballroom with a finished pine dance floor and stage, 6 closet dormers for coats in the ballroom, a library, a music room, and butler’s pantry. My brothers and sisters and I used to play for hours, hiding in the walk-in closets and roller skating in the ballrooom. I had a huge antique wardrobe in my room with a full-sized mirror. The rooms had 20-foot-ceilings and original lighting fixtures.

As a child, I had regular piano lessons in our music room, and practiced there for hours. The strip of rooms on either side of the house was connected by French doors, which could be closed for privacy. We had 12-foot stained glass windows on each side of the fireplace on the staircase landing, and we always purchased a 20-foot real Christmas tree. The tree was placed in the front foyer, and we decorated the top as we stood on the stairway landing.

An old mansion is nothing like the new mansions that are being built in the suburbs. Great care was taken to build each and every detail. I remember the wall plaster containing coarse horse hair. My old house had all hard wood trim and floors, and was made to last forever. I now imagine living there with my children and grand-children, having family meals together, all under one roof. I often wish that we had kept that home in our family. When my parents divorced, the house was sold. I have fond memories growing up in that house. We had many family parties, and everyone came to our house on the holidays. We even had chamber music concerts in our library, and invited our neighbors over for college recitals. I like some of the sprawling ranch homes, but I am not sure I could ever live happily in a very small home. I like the options that wide open spaces provide.

Laura writes:

Victorian mansions are entirely different from the McMansions of today. Aside from the craftsmanship you mention, the rooms were separate and intimate even if they had high ceilings, unlike the open, connecting rooms of contemporary homes. The big homes of yesterday were also meant to accomodate larger families and, in many cases, servants.

A house built with the architectural detail and attention to beauty that was characteristic of many Victorian homes is a work of art, not just a place to live. These houses are treasures. The mansion of today is typically an eyesore, a visual blight on the community. Its nauseating exterior speaks only of size and money.

Victorian homes were works of art because of that era’s respect for civility and hierarchy.

When I spoke of the houses of the fifties, I did not mean to hold them up as architectural masterpieces. They are not. They are actually quite ugly. But at least they allowed families to function as families and one can successfully battle their inherent ugliness.

Greg J. writes:

Your observation about smaller modern families in larger houses is all too true. My own neighborhood is an example of that phenomenon, and is a real study in contrasts. After renting for a couple of years, my wife and I moved into a little old Cape Cod, have since had a son, and are hoping to have more. We have no plans to leave the house anytime soon, even if we are blessed with more kids. We know that it’s possible to raise a large family in a fifties-style ranch house because we have so many living witnesses right in our neighborhood who tell us that they did it themselves, and loved the experience.

In our neighborhood, nearly all of the houses are ranch or Cape Cod style, nearly all were built in 1950 in Levittown fashion (this according to my next-door neighbor), and all are far smaller than what would typically be built today. What often surprises newcomers to the neighborhood is that many of the residents, widows and widowers who have been living in the houses for 50 or 60 years, raised large families in them. When I say large, I mean four or more kids. Getting to know these living legends of the area has been one of the greatest benefits of the neighborhood.

It’s interesting to contrast the attitudes of the folks who have been here for 50 or 60 years, of which there are many, and the youngsters who, like us, have arrived only in the last few years. There are roughly speaking two main types of occupants in our neighborhood. There are the old-timers who have many great-grandkids apiece, and there are the young married couples without any kids yet. It’s really wonderful to see little children flooding out of a van and run up the driveway to visit their great grandma or great grandpa, and I get to see it all the time. In vivid contrast, there are many houses occupied by married couples who have no kids yet, and who have no immediate plans to have any.

My next door neighbor is a lady who moved in with her newlywed husband in 1950. She and her husband raised several kids in that little house, and she enjoyed 30 years with him until he died in 1980, by which time her kids were grown and gone. But she tells me she has never thought of leaving the neighborhood where all of her family memories were made. Her children, her grandchildren and yes, her great-grandchildren visit her frequently. And she is very active visiting with neighbors of her generation who have been her friends for half a century or more.

There are also many young couples here we have become friends with, nearly all of whom view these houses as their ‘starter’ homes. Some are very newly wed, some have been married for several years, but most of them plan to move when they are more established financially, and nearly all are delaying having kids until they are ‘ready.’ When my wife or I mention that we want to have about four kids, the young people usually say that it will be financially impossible, or that our house is way too small to shelter so many people. Some of these young couples will tell you that they have even accepted the possibility of never having kids at all, and most of them seem to view the idea of having more than one or two as extravagant or selfish. There is also a bit of that sneering attitude you mentioned to these smaller older homes.

Laura writes:

You are lucky to have so many longtime residents in your neighborhood. It’s a real neighborhood, a place with a past. It’s interesting how many of the young couples just assume it is impossible to raise children in one of those smaller houses.

Brenda writes:

I found your post on smaller homes so wonderful. I became quite nostalgic thinking of all the pretty, well-kept, loved homes I have been privileged to visit over the years, which, though smaller, in no way detracted from their liveability. The home I grew up in was such a home. It was a basic ranch style, andI’m sure it would be considered small by today’s standards, but when I lived there I don’t remember that it felt cramped. And my parents were very hospitable people. The memories I have of gatherings there, impromptu meals & snacks, and laughter that would sometimes cause the neighbors to come over “just because,” and then stay themselves!

I would encourage Sarah to stick with her vision of a good life for her family. It sounds as though she isn’t already swayed by covetousness, and is willing to wait till the time is right. I know she”ll be successful if she follows through as she’s outlined in her comment. When she mentioned the cold weather (as well as the good, even booming, economy) where she lives, I had to think one of the Dakotas. If so, greetings from your neighbor directly to the east! Yes, it is certainly cold up here, isn’t it! And yes, it requires a certain hardiness to endure that winter after winter. All the best!

Mr. T. writes:

Laura, your comment regarding the desire of McMansion-designers to mimic public space in the high ceilings and ‘grand’ configuration of living rooms is insightful. I’d never thought of it that way, but I think it’s accurate. Living here in Hong Kong – which is one of the world’s safest cities, not incidentally – I have realized what a heavy price urban Americans pay in the currency of fear. Being able to wander the heart – and any other part – of your city in peace and confidence is a joy.

Speaking of public space, another feature of ‘living small’ is that we regularly feel the need to get out and about. Snug is cozy, and all that, but it certainly can get oppressive. Hong Kong social life reflects this. Few people here invite their friends or colleagues to their flats (almost no one lives in single-dwelling houses), so socializing is done mostly in restaurants (which exist in profusion and general excellence). This discomfits some western expats, to be sure. For example, our church’s former pastor arrived from the UK with a program of ‘house visitations’ high on his agenda. He was nonplussed to encounter a lukewarm reception to this plan.

Finally, a word on the efficiency of small housing: Jaako has noted that small living spaces in Finland are easier and cheaper to keep warm – here they must be cooled! Most flats in Hong Kong have individual-room air conditioners, so they’re only used when a room is occupied. It’s just too expensive for most people to keep their homes centrally cooled (although offices and other public buildings are). This saves a great deal of energy and money.

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