Nonfiction world-building
Erik Larson’s deep dive into late 19th century Chicago in The Devil in the White City
I couldn’t help feeling a bittersweet satisfaction as I put down my well-loved (read: worn) copy of The Devil in the White City. Before getting into the content of the book, I did want to comment on the physical state of my copy, and the other copies I’ve seen. I’m not sure if this should be directed at Crown Publishing, Random House, or Vintage Books, but I would strongly recommend looking into making your book sturdier, especially because it’s the kind of book I want to lend to friends. (Also, a quick shout-out to my brother’s friend who may or may not have lent the book to him and may or may not remember this, so much time has passed. You can look forward to a reunion soon.)
Four hundred and thirty-two pages thick, The Devil—as I will call it for the remainder of my post—is a long and dense read. This is partially because it is full of researched facts pulled from letters, news articles, press releases, court documents, and beyond to craft a rich and alluring reconstruction of the 1890s. In this work, Larson masterfully weaves the parallel stories of the creation of the 1893 World’s Fair and the debut of America’s earliest serial killer. Though the narratives are not dependent on each other (the Chicago World’s Fair would likely have gone just as well without this quiet string of femicides), the two are deeply intertwined. In contrasting the beauty, innovation, and drive displayed at the Columbian Exposition with the grit, grime, and gore experienced by the not-so-glamorous city-dwellers, for the reader, Larson complicates America’s seemingly bolstered reputation as a country of wealth and imagination.
As someone who recently studied architecture, this book was a crash course in pre-modern architects, whose legacies are seen throughout U.S. cities today. Though I am ashamed to admit I could not match many of the mentioned architects to their works before reading, the book not only educated me but offered me a window into their world. Even icons like Frederick Law Omsted became dimensional characters that I sympathize with rather than historical experts that I read about. Understanding the tempers, desires, fears, and ambitions of these creatives helped make the building of the Columbian Exposition more realistic, monumental, and memorable. I had learned about Sophia Hayden, Louis Sullivan, and others involved, but had no idea the effort or impact this World’s Fair really had on the United States. Larson is careful not to glorify the feat to the point where the reader blindly idolized the creative elites. The exploitation of the workers involved, their bargaining for better conditions and pay, and the tensions between different populations of working class people all add subtext for the rights enjoyed by workers today, and highlight points for continued struggle.
As for the depiction of Dr. H. H. Holmes, or Herman Webster Mudgett as he was christened, I was refreshed with the lack of glorification he received. As we have seen in modern Netflix specials, serial killers who target and sexually assault women are often portrayed as alluring, mysterious men. Though Holmes was described this way in various accounts, the author is careful to balance these with the grim realities of his actions, the meticulousness with which he conducted his crimes. And while throughout the book the reader is intrigued to hear exactly what he does with his targets, or how he is ultimately caught, I never felt as though I were rooting for him, even against my own conscience.
What has impressed me most about Larson’s historical narrative, is how he solidly bases his work on the accounts of those who were witnesses and traces the legacies to realities the reader knows and understands from the present-day. Building up to the revelation that the brilliant and inventive engineer who sought to out-Eiffel Eiffel was none other than the Ferris wheel’s namesake, or grounding the final scene in the catastrophe of the Titanic, Larson reminds the reader that the Columbian Exposition was not merely a contained event in history, but a deciding moment in the history of the U.S., and consequently the world. From the way our buildings are painted, to the electricity that powers them—the Columbian Exposition, it’s numerous inventions, and the windy city that hosted it become alive and stay relevant for all who read The Devil in the White City.