Book review: The Devil in the White City

I believe I first learned about The Devil in the White City on a tour of Irvington. It was a fall night as a hundred or so of us trudged from site to site in Irvington, an eastern neighborhood of Indianapolis. The tour was a ghost tour special for the Halloween season. I learned much about historical tidbits of the area, including H.H. Holmes, the so-called devil in the book title.

One house we stopped outside of was presumably haunted. Current owners confirmed this. And by the way, the house was where H.H. Holmes killed a boy. Who? What? Holmes, a serial killer during the world’s fair in Chicago in 1893, passed through Irvington, albeit it temporarily.

With that information, I thought that I needed to read this book about Holmes and Chicago. Years later I finally have.

As I read it, I had to remind myself that it was non-fiction. The book reads like a novel. Two threads and main characters run through the book. Holmes and his murder spree. Burnham, the Chicago architect in charge of making the world’s fair a reality, and the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893.

Sporadically as I was reading, I remembered that Holmes existed. He was real. His deeds happened. And then I’d need to put down the book. But in between those times of realization, the “novel” was easy to consume.

Larson weaves fascinating descriptions about the inner lives of people. Their hopes, dreams, and fears come alive. These people seem real and relatable.

The history of how the fair came to be, details about society and life of the times, the labor struggles, and economic woes of the times are also engrossing. I thought of the world’s fair in Chicago as just magically coming into being. But this book depicts its real struggle and how close it came to not happening. Again and again.

Chicago being picked to host the world’s fair reminded me of sites selected for modern-day Olympics. Everyone wants the honor but then the reality hits. Much money and energy is poured into the endeavor. The city boasts some honor for hosting the event, but then the costs turn out to be so high. And everything built for the event is left to rot after the crowds disperse.

The world’s fair in 1893 was no different. On the surface, the fair was a smashing success. A beautiful temporary site rose from the barrenness that was a city park in Chicago. Word spread about the White City and visitors were enthralled with its beauty.

What would happen when the fair ended six months later? There was no talk of repurposing buildings or the site. The structures were left to rot. Or more accurately to become a shanty town for the hordes of homeless and unemployed during the economic downturn that the fair straddled and deepened. When the fair closed, thousands more were spit out to join the ranks of the unemployed in an economically depressed country. They inhabited the abandoned White City.

Until fire destroyed much of the structures on the site.

It was a sad ending to a beautiful, inspiring event. Chicago was galvanized. It proved to others that it was cultured enough, educated enough to host a world’s fair that would not only make Chicago proud, but the rest of the country.

Nothing really remains of the fair today. One of the buildings was made into a more permanent structure—which houses the Field Museum today. The landscaped grounds designed by the famous Olmstead still sport the wooded island and lagoon. But the fair is all but gone.

Sadly, I did not realize the location of the fair, the historical significance of the location of the Field Museum, or the grounds having been designed by Olmsted—despite having visited the museum several times in my life. Though to be fair, based on the description of Olmsted in The Devil in the White City, I suspect that the landscape in the park no longer conforms to any of Olmsted’s designs and would have him spinning in his grave.

Larson names drops quite a bit in The Devil in the White City. The world’s fair attracted and influenced lots of people. Olmsted was just one among many. (Olmsted designed Central Park, along with dozens and dozens of other well-known places.) Frank Lloyd Wright appears in these pages as a former colleague of another exposition architect, Louis Sullivan, possibly drawing his prairie style inspiration from the Japanese buildings on the Wooded Island. Walt Disney’s father appears—the White City may have influenced his own designs. Eugene Debs pops up as the organizer behind late 1800s train strikes. Baum visited the fair and went on to write about the magical land of Oz. Buffalo Bill headed the wild west show next to the fair. The Ferris’s wheel made its debut at the fair. And on and on.

Larson does an excellent job weaving all of these histories together, giving us glimpses in some cases and more in-depth looks in others into people and events. The White City almost seems impossible to have been. The killings by Holmes seem impossible to have been. Yet both took place. The book shows the heights of joy and the depths of tragedy—from all of the killings, the abandonment and destruction of the fair site, and the pain suffered by both anonymous and named people. Life is transitory. This book drives home that point.

The book starts with Burnham on a trans-Atlantic voyage long after the fair and ends with the knowledge that a colleague from the fair died with the sinking of the Titanic. In between are tales and descriptions that have stuck with me. Larson has taken the real and weaved it into a story that almost seems to be a fabrication rather than a recounting of actual events. The beauty of the White City was too fleeting. As was Larson’s recollection of its existence.

Book review: Reality Is Not What It Seems: The Journey to Quantum Gravity

After recently reading Rovelli’s Seven Brief Lessons on Physics, I moved on to his lengthier work, Reality Is Not What It Seems. I wasn’t disappointed.

This book is a fleshing out of ideas, placing them in historical context. Rovelli starts with the Greeks, the views of reality they expounded, and how more modern theories of how the world work built on their theories or disproved them. A lover of history and a novice when it comes to physics, I found that his Seven Brief Lessons on Physics gave me enough of a scaffolding to understand the facts and scientific history that he described.

I learned so much more about physics—the exotic and mundane. (Was Einstein really bad in math? Suddenly, I didn’t feel like such a moron due to my lack of skill in the math department.)

My education about how the world works seemed to have been based on Newtonian physics. Theories and discoveries since then are kind of, well, mind-blowing. Space is finite but has no boundaries. How can that be? It curves. Time is not what we think. Time is local. The present is an illusion. (Kind of sounding Buddhist now.) Space is not a vacuum and the question what makes up space actually makes no sense. Rather than a Big Bang, there was more a Big Bounce. The universe expands and contracts.

Do not ask me to explain any of these things or the basic ideas of quantum theory. I understood enough of what Rovelli describes but not enough to articulate it or the reasoning behind it. Fascinating stuff physics—the quest to understand how the world works.

If you are interested in the history of quantum gravity and the ideas behind it, Rovelli’s book is for you. With his explanations about quantum theory, he may upend what you know—or what you thought you knew—about space and time, the universe, and how it all works.

Book review: Seven Brief Lessons on Physics

I was excited to delve into this slim book on physics. I was never a stellar pupil of science. I shied away from it in school, confused and befuddled. I grew up in an environment where you either got it or you didn’t. I didn’t. Physics was deemed the hardest, so I did not even attempt to dip my toe into that milieu.

But adulthood is different. I have waded into different fields, trying to make up for time lost. What can I learn? What could change my understanding of the world? What can I grasp from these fields seemingly closed off in my youth?

I don’t profess to understand all that Rovelli discusses in his slim volume, but he starts to lift the veil on different fields in physics, what constitutes these fields, and how they contribute to our understanding of the world.

These lessons are divided into chapters based on a series of articles that appeared in an Italian newspaper. Rovelli walks through the major theories and its proponents: general theory of relativity, quantum mechanics, the cosmos and its elementary particles, quantum gravity, and probability and black holes.

Some seems to contradict early learnings or expands on them. Other introduces me to whispers that I heard elsewhere or am encountering for the first time. It is all a brief, cursory intro. But my hope is that like with other things in life, this basic knowledge will form a loose framework that I can add to over time. I can build on this knowledge, that something that I encounter in the future will remind me of a concept that he introduced and it will help illuminate the concept further. That something will click and a lightbulb go on.

Rovelli’s book may be too basic for those well-versed in physics or science. But to the novice it is a great place to dip one’s toe before wading in.