The Things That Matter (edition 2012)

Like other reviewers, I was expecting more of a slick decorating book, with lots of magazine-style photo spreads interspersed with tips and suggestions for incorporating personal, sentimental objects into your interior décor. Instead, The Things That Matter gives profiles of the author and his friends and talks about their stuff – the stuff that matters to them and why it matters. It ended up being a much more interesting book than the eye-candy I had anticipated. ( )

Given my professional interests in art and its role in interior design, and of course intellectual interests in object-oriented ontology and actor-network theory, I picked this up thinking that it would provide a somewhat engaging perspective on how the objects that we collect through life tell stories and create spaces on their own. I was wrong. It's actually the incredibly arrogant and self-absorbed story of Nate Berkus, whose background could not be less interesting, interspersed with photos of and backstories behind the apartments of his friends. None of which, incidentally, are actually tasteful or illuminating, with the possible exception of one small image of an apartment the author lived in when he was just starting out. ( )

This is not your typical design guide. Nate goes autobiographical here, starting with explaining how his passion for design was ignited as a child. Thankfully his parents wisely let him foster that interest. He was a magpie from a young age and treasure hunting in flea markets and antique shops is still a huge passion for him. This resonated with me because I, too, am a magpie, but those things that interested me when I was 4, 6, and 8 are still the passions in my middle-age adult life. I too was blessed with parents that fostered all my interests.

He also recounts the harrowing experience of being at ground zero of the tsunami in 12/04. This was difficult to read, even though I already was aware of him losing his partner Fernando, who was literally ripped from his hands by a big wave. His grief is unimaginable. He talks about the mementos and gifts that were touchstones within that relationship and how they are soothing to see and an integral part of our personal design.

Overall he encourages and demonstrates (through photographs of fellow magpies' homes) how to make design personal. The commercialization of design to me is crystallized in those goofy, shallow wood signs that say "Live, Love, Laugh", which you can buy at Target. But it's not personal. It's vapid, empty decor. But if YOU made the sign with wood you found on a hiking trip and included photos of loved ones, then it has meaning. Sorry, I digress. If you are a Nate fan, this book is a must have. ( )

I am usually disappointed in decorating books. This book is quite different. My introduction to Nate Berkus was not on Oprah's tv show but on her satellite radio station. I never really knew when he would pop up but I always enjoyed listening to him. This book is written in a way that reminds me of him on the radio, the tangents, the asides, yet he has something interesting to say.
The book starts with Nate's life (so far) story and that is how I started the book. That packed such a wallop that I had to put it down. After a time, I browsed, then read. Not in order but as it struck my fancy, although I did save Nate Berkus for last.
A fine, delicate line is walked. The difference between stuff and The Things That Matter. If you want to call this a decorating book, it is the best I have read. ( )

What a wonderful book! Nate Berkus tells his own story and the story of others through the 'stuff' that is found in flea markets, antique stores, foreign lands and brought into their homes. His passion for collecting and arranging and rearranging is his way of helping friends and clients appreciate significant events and memories and build out their living spaces in ways that are unique and meaningful. One featured home is a 400 square foot one-room cottage filled with objects and flea market finds all in shades of white. Another is a former Texas dance hall converted into a spare and elegant home where ordinary things like towels and plates are showcased rather than stored in cabinets. A third home features a desk built by the homeowner's grandfather, a washboard used by her grandmother as well as an outdoor bed for lounging and enjoying the garden.
The dozen or so homes featured are filled with objects that are touch stones for the owners, reminders of triumphs, tragedies, friends gained and lost, parents long gone, grand children still underfoot. Berkus has given us more that just a catalogue of lamps and chairs and tchotchkes, he has given us the connections to these people who have graciously opened their front doors and invited the reader into their spaces. And he also graciously shares some of both his sorrows and his joys. ( )