A term whose literal meaning is the emergence and evolution of
cities, although it is frequently applied approvingly to the kinds of cultural evolution facilitated by city life, especially their moral and aesthetic components.
Cities
are manifestations of technological advance, their evolution mapped out
in the development of building materials and techniques, the solution
of such large-scale *engineering problems as water supply and waste
disposal, the logistics of food distribution, and the evolution of
manufacturing enterprises. These imperatives have provided the principal
motive force for the advancement of applied science, and theoretical
science may therefore be viewed as a by-product of civilisation. The
first foundations of theoretical science were laid in Athens, the first
citystate to escape the limitations of local agricultural supply by
cultivating an economy based on trade; the second phase of its
sophistication, in the seventeenth century, was correlated with a rapid
expansion of cities, whose physical containment within strong defensive
walls was being replaced by their political containment within
nation-states.
Hypothetical cities, made or remade with the aid of
new technology and inspired by intellectual progress, have played a
central role in speculative fiction, from classical *Utopian fictions
such as Francesco da Cherso’s La Citta` Felice (1553), Tommaso
Campanella’s La Citta` del Sole (written 1602; trans. As City of the
Sun), and J. V. Andreae’s Christianopolis (1619), through such
euchronian visions as Louis- Se´bastienMercier’s L’an deux mille quatre
cent quarante (1771; trans. as Memoirs of the Year 2500), Edward
Maitland’s By and By (1873), and Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward,
2000–1887 (1888) to such images of hypermetropolitan development as
Pierre Ve´ron’s ‘‘En 1900’’ (1878), Ignatius Donnelly’s Caesar’s Column
(1890), and H. G. Wells’ ‘‘A Story of the Days to Come’’ (1897). Such
imaginative projections reflect the sociohistorical process by which the
same factors that made cities into centres of wealth, leisure, and
architectural magnificence also made them into magnets for reckless but
necessary migration and accumulators of industrial and organic wastes.
The development of sophisticated sewage systems was too slow to prevent a
nauseous reaction to city filth, resonantly echoed in much
nineteenth-century literature. William Cobbett’s description of London
as a Great Wen struck a plangent chord, whose most extreme response was
Richard Jefferies’ After London; or, Wild England (1885). Cities had
been seen as the primary arenas of both cultural *progress and cultural
*decadence since Classical times, and the revision of both ideas in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries had much to do with the dramatic
contrasts provided by the elaborate and exaggerated cross sections of
larger societies contained within cities. The great European cities of
the nineteenth century became the crucibles in which popular literature
developed, providing compact audiences through which literacy gradually
spread from top to bottom. One result of this was that cities became
‘‘characters’’ in their own right, explicitly so in such panoramic
surveys as Euge`ne Sue’s Les myste` res de Paris (1842–1843; trans. as
The Mysteries of Paris) and G. W. M. Reynolds’ imitative The Mysteries
of London (1844–1845).
The literary developments spearheaded by
Sue and other popular celebrants of the idea of the city-asorganism were
partly the product of the advent of artificial *light, initially with
the equipment of city streets with gas lamps—with which London’s Pall
Mall was first fitted out in 1807. Liberation from the tyranny of night
and day paved the way for a dramatic extension of economic and leisure
activities—not to mention efficient policing—ushering civilisation into a
new phase of enlightenment, but also bringing the nastier aspects of
city life into the glare. In James Thomson’s narrative poem, gaslight is
impotent to redeem The City of Dreadful Night (1874), only serving to
illuminate its horrors.
The application of science to municipal
architecture and engineering, and the corollary role played by cities as
hosts of scientific research and technological expertise, was given
elaborate literary consideration in such nineteenth-century novels as
Jules Verne’s Les cinq cents millions de la be´gum (1879, based on a
first draft by Paschal Grousset; trans. as The Begum’s Fortune), which
carefully contrasts the political organisation of the cities of
Frankville and Stahlstadt. In Verne’s novel Frankville is triumphant,
but it was the imagery of Stahlstadt that was more widely echoed in
futuristic projections of city life. Mrs. Oliphant’s afterlife fantasy
‘‘The Land of Darkness’’ (1887) depicts a sector of Hell as a City of
Science: an Infernal factory complex ruled by mad Master. By contrast,
the central exhibit at the Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893 was
the White City, designed by a host of architects, engineers, and artists
to embody rather than merely to model the future of civilisation; its
classically styled white buildings were topped by a series of gilded
domes. The Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo in 1901 attempted to go
one better with a Rainbow City organised around a central Electrical
Tower, but its symbolic significance was direly compromised when the
U.S. president, William McKinley, was assassinated in its Temple of
Music. The evolution of cities was always coupled with nostalgia for a
mythical Arcadian past, when the various kinds of artifice represented
by civilisation were allegedly unnecessary because *Nature provided
everything necessary to human happiness. Such nostalgia increased rather
than diminished as time went by, although the image of an Arcadian
Golden Age was gradually replaced in Britain by the idea of an
agricultural paradise whose relics still maintained a lingering presence
in ‘‘the countryside’’. In America, whose geographical horizons were
much vaster, the equivalent contrast was part of a more complex spectrum
whose key axis, as far as literary images were concerned, was that
between the city and the ‘‘small town’’ surrounded by broad tracts of
cultivated land and wilderness. While inhabitants of the countryside and
small towns fixed avidly ambitious eyes on cities, inhabitants of
cities maintained an artificial affection for towns and villages—but the
fact that the cities provided the core audience for literary endeavour
ensured that the latter attitude would have the louder literary voice.
Traditional agricultural practices and
methods of transportation,
especially the horse, are routinely rose tinted in twentieth-century
literary mythology, as in such genres as the Western and such subgenres
as horse-riding stories aimed at teenage girls.
It was partly due
to this imbalance of envious viewpoints that the city was displaced from
the core of Utopian imagery to become the focal point of its
twentieth-century *dystopian opposition, routinely appearing in
hypothetical examples either as a slumridden gargantuan sprawl where
filth, crime, sickness, and vice flourish in appalling profusion—the
rich and powerful having exiled themselves to luxuriously equipped
baronial fortresses—or as an oppressive exercise in enforced
orderliness, whose ruthless suppression of any and all deviance is
ruthlessly dehumanising. The future of civilisation in scientific
romance and science fiction is dominated by images of increasing
*automation, pioneered in H. G. Wells’ ‘‘A Story of the Days to Come’’
(1897), E. M. Forster’s reactionary ‘‘The Machine Stops’’ (1912), Otfrid
von Hanstein’s enthusiastic Elektropolis (1928; trans. As
‘‘Electropolis’’), and John W. Campbell Jr.’s deeply ambivalent
‘‘Night’’ (1934). The imagery of the future city reached an apogee of
sorts at the 1939 New York World’s Fair, whose central Perisphere
contained a huge model of the futuristic ‘‘Democracity’’, and for which
General Motors built a spectacular Futurama exhibit.
The city of
the future was carried to various extremes of ‘‘perfection’’ in such
images of ‘‘ultimate cities’’ as Isaac Asimov’s Trantor, Arthur C.
Clarke’s Diaspar in Against the Fall of Night (1948; rev. 1956 as The
City and the Stars) and its analogue in ‘‘The Lion of Comarre’’ (1949),
the infinite city of J. G. Ballard’s ‘‘Build-Up’’ (1957; aka ‘‘The
Concentration City’’), the solicitous cities of Bellwether in Robert
Sheckley’s ‘‘Street of Dreams, Feet of Clay’’ (1968) and Reflex in Ray
Banks’ ‘‘The City That Loves You’’ (1969), the culminating image of
Thomas F. Monteleone’s The Time-Swept City (1977), and the animate
cities of Greg Bear’s Strength of Stones (1981). There is, of course, a
countertradition of defiant pastoralism, evident not merely in *disaster
stories in which mortally wounded cities must be abandoned, but in
images of deserted supercities such as those featured in John Campbell’s
‘‘Forgetfulness’’ (1937), Clifford Simak’s ironically titled City
(1944–1952; book, 1952), and Ballard’s ‘‘The Ultimate City’’ (1976).
The
sharp tension between the attractions and repulsions of city
life—clearly evident in the real world in the growth of intermediate
suburban environments and the emergence of commuting as a way of life—is
often evident in speculative fiction in an absolute division of the
urban and the rural. In such imagery defensive city walls often reappear
as encapsulating domes, as in Jack Williamson’s ‘‘Gateway to Paradise’’
(1941; book, 1955, titled Dome Around America), Rena Vale’s ‘‘The
Shining City’’ (1952; exp. as ‘‘Beyond the Sealed World’’, 1965), and
Daniel F. Galouye’s ‘‘City of Force’’ (1959). Such re-enclosed spaces
are often described in agoraphobia-inducing terms, reflected in such
accounts of subterranean civilisation as Gabriel Tarde’s Fragment
d’histoire future (1896; trans. as Underground Man) and Fritz Leiber’s
‘‘The Creature from Cleveland Depths’’ (1962; aka ‘‘The Lone Wolf’’),
and neatly summarised in Isaac Asimov’s characterisation of The Caves of
Steel (1954).
In the extreme case of James Blish’s Cities in
Flight series (1950–1962), domed cities literally tear themselves away
from the Earthly soil in order to become rootless galactic wanderers.
The vertical extension of Manhattan island provided a key model for both
real and imaginary cities; hypothetical extrapolations of the
skyscraper generated such images of urban isolation as Philip K. Dick’s
conapts, the Urbmons (urban monads) of Robert Silverberg’s The World
Inside (1971), and the ‘‘arcologies’’ featured in Larry Niven and Jerry
Pournelle’s Oath of Fealty (1981) and Elizabeth Hand’s Aestival Tide
(1992).
All of this imagery is abundantly represented in
futuristic *art, which is understandably rich in cityscapes, and has
lent considerable impetus to the Notion of agglomerations of supremely
tall buildings that scrape crystal domes for want of solid sky. Fritz
Lang’s Metropolis (1926) presented an influential image of a skyscraper
city embellished with aerial walkways and airborne commuter traffic,
while Frank R. Paul’s cityscapes, featured on the covers and internal
illustrations of the early science fiction pulps, largely defined what
William Gibson was eventually to label ‘‘the Gernsback continuum’’.
Gibson cited that assembly of images in order to highlight the fact that
it never came to pass, but the imagery of the city as an extreme of
technological enterprise has not yet developed any rival consensus, thus
maintaining an impression that the realisation of Paul’s megalopolis
has merely been postponed.
The notion that the city has its own
developmental imperatives beyond the control of planners retains its
dominance of futuristic imagery—by contrast with the nostalgically
exotic imagery of Italo Calvino’s Le citta` invisibli (1979; trans. as
Invisible Cities)—but is opposed by the multiple imagery of C. J.
Cherryh’s Sunfall (1981), the weird cities of Storm Constanine’s
Calenture (1994), and such depictions of customdesigned cities as
Nightingale in Catherine Asaro’s ‘‘Aurora in Four Voices’’ (1998).