It was so easy to disappear, so easy to deny knowledge, so very easy in the smoke and din to mask that something dark had taken root. This was Chicago, on the eve of the greatest fair in history.

Whenever I finish a book, I start with a blank slate and never have ideas lined up.

The intermittent depression that had shadowed him throughout his adult life was about to envelop him once again.

I don't listen to music when I write, but I do turn on appropriate music when I read portions of my manuscripts back to myself - kind of like adding a soundtrack to help shape mood.

I'm very perverse. If someone tells me I have to read a book, I'm instantly disinclined to do so.

I pride myself on having a journalistic remove.

I must confess a shameful secret: I love Chicago best in the cold.