My father was a teacher by trade. When I was a kid, there were bookcases on the landing between the two floors of our home filled with the volumes he had used in teaching the history of science and technology in the 1940s and ’50s. There was one book on those many shelves that always fascinated me. He’d purchased it in France just after World War II ended, and it had neverbeen bound or trimmed, meaning the pages didn’t open unless you cut the edges with a knife. The book was entitled L’Architecture: Le Passé, Le Présent, and it gradually revealed its treasures to me as I grew bold enough to
Behind the Prize