Full review now posted below!
Half of this book was the story of America's first serial killer, which I initially thought would be fascinating. But Holmes was no Jack the Ripper and, while somewhat interesting, wasn't as captivating to read about as more brutal, hands-on killers. I know that sounds extremely morbid, but it's the truth. He was an intriguing individual, but a rather dull killer. The building of the World's Fair held in Chicago would have been much more palatable (for me) if it had been condensed to just the highlights. Burnham was a self-made man who secured his future through that Fair, but he and his associates were not engaging enough to warrant half of a four-hundred-page book, in my opinion. I got extremely bogged down in the details of the architecture, even though the Fair sounded absolutely breathtaking. At the risk of sounding childish, I wish there had been more photographic illustrations of the Fair and less mind-numbing description.
There were two aspects of this book that I truly enjoyed. The first was learning about the various inventions unveiled at the fair. I was aware of Cracker Jacks and the Ferris Wheel being introduced at the Fair. But who knew that zippers, Wrigley's gum, and Aunt Jemima's Ready-Made Pancake mix all had their beginnings at the world's largest gathering up to that point in history? And bless whoever invented the automatic dishwasher, which was also unveiled at the Fair. I don't know about you, but that's an invention that I'm extremely grateful for.
I also really liked learning about Detective Geyer, the Pinkerton man who finally brought Holmes to justice. Geyer's dedication to finding the missing Pitezel children, Howard, Nellie, and Alice, led to the discovery of Holmes' other dark deeds. The majority of Americans followed the case religiously, and Geyer became America's Sherlock Holmes. I love anything related to Sherlock, so that made my inner nerd happy.
Did I enjoy this book? Bottom line: no. It was interesting on an intellectual level. I learned a great deal. It gave me something to talk about during future lulls in conversation. But it wasn't entertaining, and I read to be entertained. After all, I'm an escapist. Larson should be commended for his hard work, but his book read like a dissertation to me. Most non-fiction does. And I can never seem to make myself enjoy reading anything factual. Now, if something is based on reality, I can sometimes get behind that. On occasion, anyway. But unless there's magic, swords, and a plethora of events that could never actually happen, I just don't have much interest. That's not to say that I don't like truth in my fiction. In my opinion, the best fiction proclaims some truth that often gets lost in the chaos of real life. Give me dragons with morality. Give me fairytales that leap off the page and whisper the truth in my ear. Give me fantasy that proclaims something. It moves me more than nonfiction any day.