I just finished The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson, a fantastic book charting events surrounding the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago.

The “Devil” of the title refers to the serial killer H.H. Holmes, who occupies a third of the book overall but figures heavily in the fourth act. The rest is concerned with the monumental challenges of besting the earlier Paris Exposition Universelle - debut of the Eiffel Tower - in only a fraction of the planning and building time. It’s incredibly easy and addictive to read, keeping me tearing through the pages until 2:30am at one point.

That said, there were a few parts that rubbed me the wrong way (mainly noticeable because the rest was so awesome). A lot of the book is fleshed out by the author, to state it nicely. To state it less nicely, he totally manufactures the inner thoughts of H.H. Holmes along with a lot of his activity before, during, and after the fair. Going from the folk diagnosis of H.H. Holmes as a psychopath, he portrays him as almost cartoonishly-unfeeling caricature of a human being, as adept at charm as he is at killing.

I understand that this was necessary to make it feel like reading a fictional novel, but it also makes me question what parts of the book were actually factual. With the fair itself, we have a bevy of primary documentation and plenty of sources with less incentive to lie. For Holmes, we have the usual sensational press accounts of the day (as well as very dubious accounts from Holmes himself). Columbine, while an even more awesome book, sort of pulled the same trick in fleshing out the two school shooters - but Columbine was supported by exponentially more primary documentation and continuing access to almost everyone who surrounded the person portrayed.

This whole objection is probably just me being a tight-ass, given that a good portion of my “Intro to Nonfiction Writing” class was spent with me arguing to the teacher that David Sedaris wasn’t nonfiction because he deliberately fudged facts. But it was something that weighed on my mind as I started to notice it throughout the book, especially since some other sections did read like parodies of a TV show. The author loves ending sections with foreshadowing that makes me want to slap my forehead, like, “later, these musings of fire would come to seem like prophecy.”

But honestly, outside of those two quibbles, it’s a fantastic book and accessible enough that I’d recommend it to anyone wanting a good yarn. Larson does a wonderful job creating the ambiance of the era, carefully revealing facts in a way that preserves and enhances the wonder that visitors might have felt upon seeing the exhibition. His writing is solid, with the occasional turn towards being evocatively poetic. And Larson’s pacing is amazing, especially with incorporating H.H. Holmes in order to give the book’s story a race to the finish. Good read!