The story of the house — Reading Notes

A Catalogue Framed by Verse

The book’s structure is unusual: it is a trade catalogue, yet it opens with three epigraphs from Ruskin, Whitman, and Longfellow. Whitman’s “Song of the Broad Axe” describes masons at work, with “the flexible rise and fall of backs” and “the continual click of the trowels.” Longfellow’s “The Hanging of the Crane” celebrates a new household “like a new star just sprung to birth.” These literary quotations elevate the catalogue’s purpose, suggesting that brickwork is not merely functional but part of a larger cultural and domestic ideal. The epigraphs also hint at the book’s intended audience: builders and homeowners who value craftsmanship and tradition.

Illustrations as Narrative

The ten illustrations listed in the contents form a kind of journey through a house: from the entrance gates, through the porch, hall fireplace, ingle-nook, library window, casement, gables and dormers, chimney-tops, loggia and terrace, to the garden sun-dial and exedra. This sequence suggests a narrative of moving through a dwelling, both inside and out. The illustrations themselves are not described in the excerpts, but their titles imply a focus on architectural details that combine brick with other materials. The note on materials explains that “consoles, pier caps, and carved portions” may be made of terra-cotta or stone, as a “perfectly legitimate combination.” This practical concession shows the catalogue’s grounding in real construction.

Voice and Pace: From Practical to Poetic

The prose shifts between straightforward catalogue language and more lyrical passages. The opening statement of purpose is direct: “to give simply a few suggestions of what may be accomplished by the use of plain and moulded brick.” But the epigraphs and the illustration titles introduce a slower, more reflective pace. The phrase “amid gables and dormers” or “among the chimney-tops” evokes a picturesque, almost romantic view of architecture. This alternation between the practical and the poetic creates a distinctive voice: the book is a sales tool, but one that insists on the beauty and permanence of its product. The reader is invited to see brickwork as both a craft and an art.

Readers should approach The Story of the House as a period piece that reveals late-19th-century attitudes toward domestic architecture and marketing. The illustrations are central to its argument, but the text itself rewards attention to its shifts in tone. The epigraphs are not mere decoration; they frame the catalogue as a contribution to a larger conversation about building well. The book is short—about 20 minutes to read—but its blend of commerce and culture offers a compact view of an era’s architectural ideals.

This Ketcham brochure made me think of my grandfather’s brick house, how the dust motes floated in his study light. Whitman’s lines felt like that same quiet hum. Later, reading Lectures on Art — Key Ideas to Explore, I caught that identical resonance — art as honest labor, not ornament. Both left me holding that strange, warm ache of permanence.