Witold Rybczynski has written before about houses and homes and weekends and things domestic, but in his latest book he looks closely at the commercial and political side (and more) of real estate. In “Last Harvest” (Scribner, 284 pages, $27), he traces how farmland in rural Chester County, Pa., gets transformed in the course of several years into a “traditional neighborhood development,” a term used so frequently throughout the book that the acronym TND is often employed.

Such a development is characterized by smaller lots, narrower streets, sidewalks, and back alleys — evoking old-time neighborhoods — and the closeness of the houses is expected to encourage their occupants to get to know one another. The smaller lots necessarily mean smaller lawns, and the hours saved on yardwork can be devoted to spending quality time with like-minded people. In the typical TND, residents can walk to a village center of sorts to shop and congregate. Such developments have become popular among households in which both spouses work.

My own direct experience with the TND concept is limited to its manifestation in the northern suburbs of Charlotte, N.C. A few years ago, my wife and I spent a few weekends looking at real estate in the area with our son, who wished to move from an apartment complex into a house of his own. Established neighborhoods full of older homes and sidewalks leading to conveniently located small stores in a nearby downtown are, of course, the paradigms for today’s TND. However, the older homes that were for sale when my son was looking were either in such disrepair that it would have taken a considerable amount of time and money to bring them up to comfortable modern standards or were priced out of sight.

My son ended up in a TND that was a work in progress. The new house that he bought was attractive, well made, and surrounded by similar but not identical houses, most of which had been personalized with porch furniture, flags, window treatments, and other distinguishing features. It was necessary to drive through construction areas to get to and from my son’s house, but like most of his neighbors he was away at work during the day and so away from the noise and disruption. A pool and park were centrally located, but I seldom saw them crowded, nor did I ever see many people on their porches. Those using the sidewalks were usually walking their dogs. A lot of the homes seemed to be owned by part-time residents: airline pilots, salespeople, and others whose jobs kept them away for extended periods of time.

The complex of stores on the edge of the development contained a new restaurant, which we tried one weekend. The food was quite good, and we were glad not to have had to fight local or interstate traffic to enjoy it. There is a lot to be said for the TND, and its appeal is understandable, though it doesn’t always work the way it’s pitched.

But Mr. Rybczynski has written about more than the TND in “Last Harvest.” The book’s sub-subtitle is a précis of it: “Real Estate Development in America From George Washington to the Builders of the Twenty-First Century, and Why We Live in Houses Anyway.” Washington was, of course, a land surveyor, and he had a strong interest in acquiring real estate. “Last Harvest” contains an interesting and informative overview of the history of land development, including a descriptive discussion of Levittown, the postwar Long Island community of mass-produced houses that defined the postwar suburban style.

“Last Harvest” also provides a behind-the-scenes look into the nature of planning and zoning, as well as house designing, building, and selling. Mr. Rybczynski does this by means of the case study of New Daleville, telling the story of its conception, gestation, and infancy through a cast of characters, many of whom he introduces early on and follows their progress and regress throughout the lengthy process. There are, among other actors in the drama, the residential developer and his son, who is learning the ropes; town planners; zoning officials; consultants; architects; designers; house builders; landscape architects; and real estate agents. Their interactions and sometimes opposing goals provide much of the action and tension throughout the book, and they provide the vehicle for explaining how systems work — or do not.

Mr. Rybczynski is a master at seeing and explaining the often overlooked or misunderstood. He has long established that he has a wonderful eye for architecture. In “Last Harvest” he turns that eye to, among others, the tract house and the latest development fads and helps us see them — often through the eyes and words of his dramatis personae — for what they are, which is not all bad. But some are. On the subject of style, Mr. Rybczynski asks a “pragmatic” architect and planner about mistakes made by house builders. “They like this porch and that door and that bay window, but they don’t know how to integrate them,” the architect tells him. Good design demands integration, and there is no house so disappointing as the one that has too many different colors, textures, and details.

Mr. Rybczynski also discusses the seemingly baffling behavior of home buyers who want a house that is nearly identical to the one next door. He explains this phenomenon as manifesting a desire to have a house that everyone wants. That is a great advantage when it comes to selling a starter home, perhaps to buy a newer, bigger, and more prestigious one — one that also looks very much like its neighbors. Understanding the business of real estate requires an appreciation of its many aesthetic, economic, historical, physical, political, psychological, structural, and countless other aspects, and Mr. Rybczynski’s “Last Harvest” is a primer on them all.

Mr. Petroski, the Aleksandar S. Vesic Professor of Civil Engineering at Duke University, is the author of “Success through Failure: The Paradox of Design” and a dozen other books on engineering and design.