PD Smith

Rush Hour

Times Lit­er­ary Sup­ple­ment, 24 July 2015, p 27

Rush Hour: How 500 mil­lion com­muters sur­vive the dai­ly jour­ney to work, by Iain Gate­ly (Head of Zeus), 378 pp, £8.99. ISBN: 9781781854082

By P. D. Smith

Rush Hour

The term “com­muter” first emerged in Amer­i­ca, where in 1843 the Pater­son and Hud­son Riv­er Rail­road offered pas­sen­gers the oppor­tu­ni­ty to com­mute, or replace, their dai­ly fares with a sin­gle pay­ment for a sea­son – or “com­mu­ta­tion” – tick­et. Accord­ing to Iain Gate­ly, it was “loco­mo­tiv­i­ty” that her­ald­ed the age of com­mut­ing. The arrival of the rail­ways in the 1830s meant that the dream of escap­ing the Dick­en­sian squalor of indus­tri­al age cities became a real­i­ty. For the first time peo­ple could “live some­where healthy and work where it was most prof­itable”. The Lon­don to Green­wich line was the first to draw most of its busi­ness from com­muters. Opened in 1836, with­in eight years it was car­ry­ing more than two mil­lion pas­sen­gers a year. And with com­mut­ing came new sub­urbs, with com­mu­ni­ties such as Sur­biton, Brom­ley and Eal­ing spring­ing up around rail­way sta­tions. Sub­ur­ban dwellings may have been dis­missed by Ruskin as “gloomy rows of for­malised minute­ness”, but com­muter sub­urbs proved immense­ly pop­u­lar in Amer­i­ca and Europe alike. In Lon­don they grew by 50% per decade between 1861 and 1891.

Rather like a com­muter train ser­vice, Gately’s book pass­es through some well-trav­elled ter­ri­to­ry, but he makes the jour­ney emi­nent­ly worth­while with many enter­tain­ing anec­dotes and sur­pris­ing facts. At one point he observes that ear­ly rail­way trav­el was so dan­ger­ous that tick­et offices sold life insur­ance as well as tick­ets. Else­where he notes that the first “traf­fic light” was installed at the junc­tion of Great George Street and Bridge Street, Lon­don, in 1868. It had red and green gas lamps but explod­ed with­in a month, fatal­ly injur­ing the unfor­tu­nate police­man who was oper­at­ing it. The streets of the Big Smoke were busy and indeed dan­ger­ous. But, accord­ing to Gate­ly, in present-day India rush-hours are enlivened by no less than 48 types of road trans­port, from rick­shaws and 4x4s to camels and ele­phants.

In this eclec­tic sur­vey of the past, present and future of com­mut­ing, Gate­ly cov­ers every­thing from the Tokyo salary­men who ogle school­girls on pub­lic trans­port (they are so com­mon that women-only car­riages have been intro­duced) and road rage (appar­ent­ly the Vic­to­ri­ans leg­is­lat­ed against it and now Amer­i­can psy­chi­a­trists have renamed it Inter­mit­tent Explo­sive Dis­or­der), to dri­ver­less cars and telecom­mut­ing. A com­muter him­self, Gate­ly rejects the com­mon view of his sub­ject as “a kind of pur­ga­to­ry, which lies between the poles of pro­duc­tion and recre­ation that cap our days”. Instead he cel­e­brates com­mut­ing, see­ing this “clock­work wan­der­lust” as being root­ed in our evo­lu­tion­ary ori­gins as hunter-gath­er­ers. Com­mut­ing, he con­cludes, is “a pos­i­tive, per­haps even nat­ur­al, activ­i­ty”.

[N.B. This ver­sion may dif­fer slight­ly from the review print­ed in the TLS.]