Caleb Carr
Caleb Carr
Caleb Carr is a military historian and author born August 2, 1955 in New York, New York. Carr is the second of three sons born to Lucien Carr and Francesca Von Hartz. He is the critically acclaimed author of The Alienist, The Angel of Darkness, The Lessons of Terror, Killing Time, The Devil Soldier, The Italian Secretary, and The Legend of Broken. He has taught military history at Bard College, and worked extensively in film, television, and the theater. His...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth2 August 1955
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
The defenders of decent society and the disciples of degeneracy are often the same people.
You want to believe that there's one relationship in life that's beyond betrayal. A relationship that's beyond that kind of hurt. And there isn't.
Warfare against civilians must never be answered in kind. Terror must never be answered with terror.
I have to be very careful, however, because I have no intention of providing an excuse for this behavior. It's an attempt to explain how so many women come from backgrounds where the pressure to be a good mother is so severe that if they can't do it, something really snaps.
She has that quality, does the Hudson, as I imagine all great rivers do: the deep, abiding sense that those activities what take place on shore among human beings are of the moment, passing, and aren't the stories by way of which the greater tale of this planet will, in the end, be told.
Imagine, [Kriezler] said, that you enter a large, somewhat crumbling hall that echoes with the sounds of people mumbling and talking repetitively to themselves. All around you these people fall into prostrate positions, some of them weeping. Where are you? Sara’s answer was immediate: in an asylum. Perhaps, Kreizler answered, but you could also be in a church. In the one place the behavior would be considered mad; in the other, not only sane, but as respectable as any human activity can be.
People are disturbed enough by serial killers, but the whole notion of female violence, particularly maternal violence - the idea of mothers who kill - really unnerves people.
It didn’t make any more sense to me then than it does now, how life can pile troubles up on a man what don’t deserve them, while letting some of the biggest jackasses and scoundrels alive waltz their way through long, untroubled existences.
Absolutely nothing brings out the killer instinct in the upper crust of New York Society like a charity function.
I was a pretty angry kid, and I got into military history largely as a way to vent my own anger. As I got older it narrowed down to a more specific focus on individual violence. I'm just trying to understand where it came from.
Still, it's an interesting technique-leaving one person behind in order to find her or him somewhere else. And in someone else.
I, like most of my friends, couldn't believe I bought a mountain called Misery Mountain, because it was so appropriate.
I'm a fairly ascetic person. And I do most of my writing at night. You don't get distracted, your brain goes into what you are writing about, into the world you're writing about, rather than into the world you're in.
Scientists' minds may jump around like amorous toads, but they do seem to accept such behavior in one another.