Erik Larson
Erik Larson
Erik Larsonis an American journalist and author of nonfiction books. He has written a number of bestsellers, such as The Devil in the White City, about the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago and a series of murders by H. H. Holmes that were committed in the city around the time of the Fair; The Devil in the White City also won the 2004 Edgar Award in the Best Fact Crime category, among other awards...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth3 January 1954
CountryUnited States of America
The intermittent depression that had shadowed him throughout his adult life was about to envelop him once again.
I was never concretely aware of the extent of anti-Semitism in the United States and in the upper levels of the State Department.
Whenever I finish a book, I start with a blank slate and never have ideas lined up.
Reading is such a personal thing to me. I'd much rather give someone a gift certificate to a bookstore, and let that person choose his or her own books.
Reading Mission to Paris is like sipping a fine Chateau Margaux: Sublime!
I started reading the big histories and the small histories, the memoirs and so forth. At some point, I found the diary of William E. Dodd.
Germans grew reluctant to stay in communal ski lodges, fearing they might talk in their sleep. They postponed surgeries because of the lip-loosening effects of anesthetic. Dreams reflected the ambient anxiety. One German dreamed that an SA man came to his home and opened the door to his oven, which then repeated every negative remark the household had made against the government.
Great murderers, like great men in other walks of activity, have blue eyes.
I'm very perverse. If someone tells me I have to read a book, I'm instantly disinclined to do so.
Chicago has disappointed her enemies and astonished the world
Leaves hung in the stillness like hands of the newly dead.
Beneath the gore and smoke and loam, this book is about the evanescence of life, and why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow. In the end it is a story of the ineluctable conflict between good and evil, daylight and darkness, the White City and the Black.
Time lost can never be recovered...and this should be written in flaming letters everywhere.
I must confess a shameful secret: I love Chicago best in the cold.