About book The Devil In The White City: Murder, Magic, And Madness At The Fair That Changed America (2003)
Heard the one about the architect and the serial killer? It's not a bad joke, but it is a great book. The architect was Daniel Burnham, the driving force behind the Chicago World's Fair of 1893; the killer was H.H. Holmes, a Svengali-type figure who lured young women to his hotel and did the most gruesome things, the least shocking of which was murder. The two men never met, but The Devil in the White City brings their stories together, and although it reads like a novel, everything is thoroughly researched fact. The bookThe Great Columbian Exhibition of 1893 was Chicago's big chance to shake off its old image as a hog-slaughtering, dirty and dangerous town and to take its place as America's second city. Although the fair's theme gave a backward nod to the 400th anniversary of Columbus bumping into the Americas on his way to India, its vision was futuristic: for the first time, electric lighting, clean water, and planned green spaces could be experienced on a massive scale. Innovations - the Ferris Wheel, the hamburger, an elevated railway, Juicy Fruit gum, the zip fastener and shredded wheat among them - enhanced the feeling that the next century would belong to America. The buildings were monumental, the exhibits eclectic (one example: a map of the USA made entirely of pickles) and the visitors were awestruck. They called it the White City, from the colour of main buildings that were imposing by day, dazzling by night. Much of this was down to Daniel Burnham. His can-do reputation for building skyscrapers made him a natural choice as project manager. But we're frequently reminded that he had to push himself to the limit and step on quite few toes to ensure the Fair's success, a job made all the more difficult by economic recession, bickering architects, striking workers, pompous politicians and Chicago's notorious weather. As if all this weren't enough to occupy the reader, a parallel story takes us inside the grim world of H.H. Holmes. Capitalising on the advent of the Fair, Holmes built his own hotel to attract single young women who were streaming into the city from across America in search of work, independence and a new life in the big city. One such unfortunate believed she was on the threshold of marriage to this enchanting gentleman; in reality, she was destined for a gas chamber in the hotel basement. She was not to be the last to fall for his charms, but even in death there was no rest. Holmes literally picked over the bones of his victims, selling their remains to medical students eager to examine recently deceased corpses - no questions asked. At first, the benefit for Holmes was financial, but as time passed, the chase, the kill, the post mortem had become ends in themselves. A single-minded detective and a stroke of luck brought Holmes to justice, but even when he realised the game was up, he managed to keep his unsettling cool. My thoughts I had a strong feeling that I would take to this book, and from start to finish I was never disappointed. It fairly zings along, both stories proving absorbing, while casting out facts like frisbees. Although Burnham and Holmes are the book's dominant characters, there are walk-on parts for numerous figures who made their own mark on the White City. Buffalo Bill, Thomas Edison, and Scott Joplin are among the famous names, and the description of George Ferris's efforts to debut his eponymous wheel is a story in itself. But the lesser-known characters are also worthy of note. I pitied poor Frederick Olmsted's attempts to landscape the exhibition in the midst of an enormous, muddy construction site and a fit of depression. But I can see how ahead of his time he really was, insisting on natural greenery instead of a regimented collection of flower beds. Then there was Patrick Prendergast, whose descent into madness was to have a shocking impact on the Fair's final days; it's here that Larson's descriptive powers really come into their own. As for the serial killer, the author doesn't dwell on the sensationalist aspects of his more grisly activities, but what he leaves to the imagination is far more powerful. Extracts from letters written by a child kidnapped by Holmes are among the most upsetting words I've ever read - a reminder that the worst of human nature may not only be found in our own times. But my lasting impression from this book is one of optimism, of Burnham straining every nerve and sinew to achieve the impossible, and the ordinary folk of Chicago bursting with pride at what had been achieved. The U.S. edition of the book has the subtitle "the fair that changed America" - and that's certainly true, right down to the Pledge of Allegiance which can trace its origins to the exhibition's opening day. Beyond that, the Chicago Fair of 1893 not only showed America how it could be, but how it would be - better living and working conditions, convenience foods, domestic appliances, gadgets and more time for fun. In short, it heralded the prospect of a decent day's pay for a full day's work, a clean, safe environment, and of course the God-given right to eat shredded wheat. Who would like this book? I enjoyed it because of an interest in cities and architecture. But it would equally appeal to readers who are into engineering, politics, social history,horticulture, true crimes: does that leave anyone out?
I was in fourth grade when I realized I was somewhat of a square peg that would never fit in with everybody else. This realization happened on the playground when another little girl with blonde hair informed me that I could never be friends with any of the popular people because I always wore sweaters and never sweatshirts. I was hurt enough by the comment to remember it but also remember laughing a little bit because I liked wearing my sweaters. They were warm and soft and made me think of happy things. So even though I had to sacrifice my bid at popularity to wear something I liked instead of what everybody else was wearing, so be it. As I’ve gotten older, the situations and circumstances that separate me from “the rest of the crowd” run a bit deeper than the sweater vs. sweatshirt scenario but the result is still the same: if I like it, I like it even if I’m in the minority. And if I don’t, who cares if everybody else does? I fail at fitting in. Several years ago, I lived in a particular neighborhood in Chicago where almost everybody fit in with everybody else. And those of us who lived in this particular neighborhood and rode the ‘L’ into the Loop everyday weekday had a certain image to uphold: black wool pea coat, pointy-toed shoes with killer heels, an iPod and a copy of The Devil in the White City. And except for a copy of The Devil in the White City I actually fit in with the rest of the crowd because things that appealed to my fancy actually appealed to the fancies of other people too! I had two black wool pea coats in different lengths, several pairs of pointy-toed shoes with killer heels AND an iPod. But I didn’t have my nose stuck in this book. And here’s where I’ll make a contradictory statement to everything I’ve previously admitted: if everyone else is reading it, I have to read it too, just because (which is how I got suckered into reading the Da Vinci Code AND all four Twilights). Shortly before moving away from Chicago, I bought a copy of the book and it’s been collecting dust on my bookshelf ever since.But I finally, FINALLY read it. It was a struggle to get into but I’m glad I stuck with it because after the first 80-100 pages of initial setup the book eventually became quite interesting and hard to put down. I’m always surprised when I get so engrossed in a nonfiction book because I usually find nonfiction very easy to take a break from. The author weaves two stories together, one about the building and architecture of the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893 and the second about a serial killer operating within Chicago at the same time. Constantly switching between the two stories was a bit jarring for me and most of the time I felt like they should have been two separate books, but whatever. I was tempted to give this book 4 stars but decided not to on account of how long it took to get into it and because the two distinct storylines weren’t as cohesive as they should have been since they were in the same book.
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A brief list of things that generally don't strike my fancy: architecture, the Gilded Age, landscape design, metropolitan cities, politics (of the historical kind), and serial killers. So, for a novel that exclusively focuses on all of these things, the very fact that I made it through and maintained mild interest is quite extraordinary. However, my interest never really piqued above "mild" and, hence, the three star rating.The Devil in the White City is really two stories: the planning and building of the 1893 World Columbian Exposition in Chicago and the simultaneous planning and building of a serial killer's lair. Larson uses the convergence of these two storylines to juxtapose man's capacity for the divine against an equal capacity for evil. Two men become the embodiment of this dichotomy: Daniel Burnham, chief architect of the Exposition, who brought the dream of the "White City" to life, and H. H. Holmes, the psychopath who used the bustle of the World's Fair to lure victims to his real-life house of horrors. This intention seems to be summed up in a quote from the physician John L. Capen, who, reflecting upon Holmes's appearance, says of his eyes, "They are blue. Great murderers, like great men in other walks of activity, have blue eyes." Attention is drawn time and again to the startling blue eyes of both Burnham and Holmes, illustrating that each man would become "great" in his way.However, Larson thankfully doesn't browbeat his reader with lengthy explorations of the nature of good and evil. Instead, he presents the extraordinary lives of each man during that fateful time and allows the reader to draw these comparisons. As the White City is built, America is presented with the dream of what it could be. A civilized country could emerge from the twilight of the frontier and our pioneer spirit could live on in a future where men like Tesla, Edison, and Ferris looked toward building the impossible. Despite the hopes and possibilities represented by the Columbian Exposition, there is also an undercurrent of darkness in the form of union strikes, economic collapses, and cities large enough to swallow ambitious men and women whole without leaving a trace--cities that serve as the perfect hunting grounds for a man like Holmes. These are compelling stories and, yet, they never quite came to life for me. Larson's research is obvious, but the pacing of the story is often slowed down by dry passages--especially those detailing the power struggles that occur during the planning of the Exposition. Larson is at his best while writing about Chicago itself, capturing the sights, smells, and sounds of a bustling and ambitious city eager to prove its worth as a cultural mecca to its more sophisticated counterpart, New York City. He's also adept at bringing historical characters to life (I particularly enjoyed it when Susan B. Anthony and Buffalo Bill cross paths). All in all, this is a worthwhile, if not riveting, read.Cross posted at This Insignificant Cinder
—Amanda
3.5 ratingI did not enjoy this read as much as my fellow readers did. I thought it was a tedious, belaboring read that got bogged down in the minute details of the World's Fair. Don't get me wrong, a lot of it was fascinating to read, but I couldn't keep most of the architects straight from chapter to chapter. And I expected a better weaving of H.H. Holmes into the story. His chapters seemed tacked on and rushed, and didn't have much to do with the fair at all. I guess I had much different expectations of how this story world go.
—Tressa
Fascinating! I grew up in Chicago and each year we had a brief unit in school on the city's history: Carl Sandburg, The Jungle, railroads, Native Americans. But we never once touched on the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition (aka the World Fair) and I knew nothing at all about this amazing feat or the people involved until I read Larson's book.I can't believe such an important time -- both for the city and the nation -- which introduced so much to American society has been so forgotten. Larson did an excellent job depicting the Herculean challenges and battles that surrounded the fair as well as the triumph that accompanied its successes.The accompanying story of H.H. Holmes, the serial killer who preyed on young women visiting Chicago to see the fair, was a chilling counterpoint to the lofty ambitions and ideals of the exposition's creators. It was fascinating to see how the era's endless technological innovations, so integral in creating the fair, could also be co-opted for much darker purposes.A great, well-written book.
—Amy
