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Phoenix is known as the "Valley of the Sun," while Tucson is referred to as "The Old Pueblo." These nicknames epitomize the difference in the public's perception of each city. Phoenix continues to sprawl as one of America's largest and fastest-growing cities. Tucson has witnessed a slower rate of growth, and has only one quarter of Phoenix's population. This was not always the case. Prior to 1920, Tucson had a larger population. How did two cities, with such close physical proximity and similar natural environments develop so differently?Desert Cities examines the environmental circumstances that led to the starkly divergent growth of these two cities. Michael Logan traces this significant imbalance to two main factors: water resources and cultural differences. Both cities began as agricultural communities. Phoenix had the advantage of a larger water supply, the Salt River, which has four and one half times the volume of Tucson's Santa Cruz River. Because Phoenix had a larger river, it received federal assistance in the early twentieth century for the Salt River project, which provided water storage facilities. Tucson received no federal aid. Moreover, a significant cultural difference existed. Tucson, though it became a U.S. possession in 1853, always had a sizable Hispanic population. Phoenix was settled in the 1870s by Anglo pioneers who brought their visions of landscape development and commerce with them.By examining the factors of watershed, culture, ethnicity, terrain, political favoritism, economic development, and history, Desert Cities offers a comprehensive evaluation that illuminates the causes of growth disparity in two major southwestern cities and provides a model for the study of bi-city resource competition.
Since the 1950s, Egypt has developed a dozen new towns in the desert outside of Cairo. Intended to alleviate a growing demand for housing in the capital, most have never been completed. Edited by Marc Angélil and Charlotte Malterre-Barthes, this book presents the first systematic exploration of these cities, analysing their architecture and urban form, along with their possibilities and shortcomings. Describing their condition as 'permanently emerging', the study identifies the towns' potential through a series of design scenarios which underscore the value of re-engaging with modernist town planning, in hopes that examining past failures uncovers future opportunities.
Riyadh has set its sights on becoming a world city befitting the twenty-first century. To that end it has embarked on a massive construction drive evidenced in the proliferation of proposals for high-end districts, giga-developments and elaborate infrastructures. An urban vision seemingly dedicated to attracting global capital. Yet such a narrative can be misleading. A ‘humanization programme’, initiated during the tenure of its former mayor Abdulaziz bin Ayyaf, has complemented the city’s rapid rise by providing spaces catering for the everyday needs of its inhabitants. Yasser Elsheshtawy, in this richly illustrated book, targets these people-centred settings. It is a compelling counter-narrative interweaving critical theoretical insights, personal observations, and serendipitous encounters. He deftly demonstrates how Riyadh thrives through the actions of its people. As the world moves towards an urban model that is resilient and humane, the humanizing efforts of an Arab city are worthy of our attention. Riyadh’s premise is perhaps best captured in the cover image depicting the desert riverbed of Wadi Sulai, filled with rainwater, making its way towards the Saudi capital. Along its banks there will be dedicated public pathways and urban parks. It is a vision of an urbanity where both the spectacular and the everyday coexist. A city that is not just dedicated to the few, but one that serves the many.
You see them as faceless shapes on the median or in city parks. You recognize them by their cardboard signs, their bags of aluminum cans, or their weathered skin. But you do not know them. In Nomads of a Desert City Barbara Seyda meets the gazes of our homeless neighbors and, with an open heart and the eye of an accomplished photographer, uncovers their compelling stories of life on the edge. Byrdy is a teenager from Alaska who left a violent husband and misses the young daughter her mother now cares for. Her eyes show a wisdom that belies her youth. Samuel is 95 and collects cans for cash. His face shows a lifetime of living outside while his eyes hint at the countless stories he could tell. Lamanda worked as an accountant before an act of desperation landed her in prison. Now she struggles to raise the seven children of a woman she met there. DorothyÑwhose earliest memories are of physical and sexual abuseÑlives in a shelter, paycheck to paycheck, reciting affirmations so she may continue Òto grace the world with my presence.Ó They live on the streets or in shelters. They are women and men, young and old, Native or Anglo or Black or Hispanic. Their faces reflect the forces that have shaped their lives: alcoholism, poverty, racism, mental illness, and abuse. But like desert survivors, they draw strength from some hidden reservoir. Few recent studies on homelessness offer such a revealing collection of oral history narratives and compelling portraits. Thirteen homeless women and men open a rare window to enrich our understanding of the complex personal struggles and triumphs of their lives. Nomads of a Desert City sheds a glaring light on the shadow side of the American DreamÑand takes us to the crossroads of despair and hope where the human spirit survives.
THE STORY: Brooke Wyeth returns home to Palm Springs after a six-year absence to celebrate Christmas with her parents, her brother, and her aunt. Brooke announces that she is about to publish a memoir dredging up a pivotal and tragic event in the f
In 2006 Abu Dhabi launched an ambitious project to construct the world’s first zero-carbon city: Masdar City. In Spaceship in the Desert Gökçe Günel examines the development and construction of Masdar City's renewable energy and clean technology infrastructures, providing an illuminating portrait of an international group of engineers, designers, and students who attempted to build a post-oil future in Abu Dhabi. While many of Masdar's initiatives—such as developing a new energy currency and a driverless rapid transit network—have stalled or not met expectations, Günel analyzes how these initiatives contributed to rendering the future a thinly disguised version of the fossil-fueled present. Spaceship in the Desert tells the story of Masdar, at once a “utopia” sponsored by the Emirati government, and a well-resourced company involving different actors who participated in the project, each with their own agendas and desires.
Oil and water, and the science and technology used to harness them, have long been at the heart of political authority in Saudi Arabia. Oil’s abundance, and the fantastic wealth it generated, has been a keystone in the political primacy of the kingdom’s ruling family. The other bedrock element was water, whose importance was measured by its dearth. Over much of the twentieth century, it was through efforts to control and manage oil and water that the modern state of Saudi Arabia emerged. The central government’s power over water, space, and people expanded steadily over time, enabled by increasing oil revenues. The operations of the Arabian American Oil Company proved critical to expansion and to achieving power over the environment. Political authority in Saudi Arabia took shape through global networks of oil, science, and expertise. And, where oil and water were central to the forging of Saudi authoritarianism, they were also instrumental in shaping politics on the ground. Nowhere was the impact more profound than in the oil-rich Eastern Province, where the politics of oil and water led to a yearning for national belonging and to calls for revolution. Saudi Arabia is traditionally viewed through the lenses of Islam, tribe, and the economics of oil. Desert Kingdom now provides an alternative history of environmental power and the making of the modern Saudi state. It demonstrates how vital the exploitation of nature and the roles of science and global experts were to the consolidation of political authority in the desert.
Get a closer look at this glittering, oil-rich city in a “revealing travelogue through the capital of the United Arab Emirates” (Publishers Weekly). Jo Tatchell first arrived in the city of Abu Dhabi as a child in 1974, when the discovery of oil was quickly turning a small fishing town into a growing international community. Decades later, this Middle Eastern capital is a dizzying metropolis of ten-lane highways and overlapping languages, and its riches and emphasis on cultural development have thrust it into the international spotlight. Here, Tatchell returns to Abu Dhabi and explores the city and its contradictions: It is a tolerant melting-pot of cultures and faiths, but only a tiny percentage of its native residents are deemed eligible to vote by the ruling class, and the nation’s president holds absolute veto power over his advisory boards and councils. The Emirates boast one of the world’s highest GDP per capita, but the wealth inequality in its cities is staggering. Abu Dhabi’s royal family, worth an estimated $500 billion, lives off the sweat of the city’s migrant workers, who subject themselves to danger and poverty under barely observed labor laws. But now, the city is making an international splash with a showy investment in tourism, arts, and culture—perhaps signaling a change to a more open, tolerant state. As this sparkling city surges into the future, it devotes just as much energy to concealing its past. Tatchell looks not only at history and social issues—the ancient system of tribal organization, the condition of the city’s million foreign workers, the emergence of women in Emirati society, but also her own experiences as both a child and adult in this fascinating city that has radically changed—and in other ways, stayed the same.