Erik Larson Interview, plus links to author biography, book summaries, excerpts and reviews

An interview with Erik Larson

The author discusses The Demon of Unrest with Elaine Szewczyk for Publishers Weekly.

Some writers have a lucky pen. Others a trusty notebook. Erik Larson has his weird monkey lamps. The pair of matching bronze lamps—each featuring a Capuchin monkey with a mischievous stare—look like props from The Wizard of Oz or a 1940s noir and sit in the office of Larson's Manhattan apartment, on opposite ends of the wood dining table that serves as his writing desk.

"These lamps are my favorite thing in here," Larson says over Zoom, patting one of the monkeys. He also has a Stay Puft Marshmallow Man figure and a straw lemur, among other curiosities, that remind him to have fun while working. His daily routine includes eating a Double Stuf Oreo at his desk each morning ("It's 60 calories I don't need, but it's a ritual") and having drinks when the day wraps. "At five o'clock, I hit a bell on my desk, turn on my Spotify playlist, and have a cocktail—a martini or a Manhattan—with my wife. To me, writing isn't a job. I love it."

The bestselling author of nine thrilling books, Larson has a unique power to animate history and make it accessible. His works—which have sold more than 10 million copies, according to his publisher, Crown, and have been translated into 35 languages—include The Devil in the White City, the Edgar Award–winning story of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair and the serial killer H.H. Holmes; The Splendid and the Vile, about Winston Churchill and London during the Blitz; and his sole work of fiction, the standalone audiobook No One Goes Alone, a ghost story about a 1905 expedition to investigate paranormal activity.

Larson's latest, The Demon of Unrest, out in April, concerns the five-month period between the election of Abraham Lincoln and the beginning of the Civil War, and focuses on the back-and-forth push between Union and Confederate forces for control of Fort Sumter near Charleston, S.C., which was fired upon by the Confederates in April 1861, igniting the larger conflict.

Larson was inspired to write the book after reading old documents about the run-up to the war. "I went down the rabbit hole and never came out," he says. "I've stated numerous times that I'd never write a book about the Civil War. Well, never say never!"

A page-turner rich with period detail, The Demon of Unrest aims to capture "the ticktock of America's march toward fratricide," Larson says, as it delves into the lives of key figures including Maj. Robert Anderson, the beleaguered officer who tried to keep Fort Sumter out of Confederate hands; Mary Boykin Chesnut, a Southern socialite; and Edmund Ruffin, a trigger-happy Virginia slaveholder keen on secession. "My ideal reader is someone who knows little about the Civil War," Larson adds, "and who's coming to the book because there's the promise of a good story."

To tell the story, Larson dug through archives and private communications and visited the Charleston Historical Society, where he examined fliers advertising slave auctions and bank documents that listed Black people as collateral. "The most important, vivid, and horrifying thing was going though those records," he recalls. He was struck by the "banality of evil" that permeated Southern life.

He also visited Fort Sumter—now a tourist destination. "I thought it was going to be like the Château d'If in The Count of Monte Cristo, a scary fortress. But it was nothing like the gloomy experience I was hoping for."

While Larson worked on the book, the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capital happened—and it left him unsettled. "The past had come to life in an unpleasant way," he says. "I realized then that this book is very much a story of the present."

Amanda Cook, Larson's editor, praises the author for his ability to illuminate history's biggest moments. "Erik thinks like a novelist even though each sentence is meticulously fact-checked," Cook says. "He makes great use of primary source materials overlooked by historians. He's also just a lot of fun."

Larson's literary agent David Black—whom Larson calls his "forever mensch"—echoes Cook's sentiments. "I adore Erik," he says. "When I read The Demon of Unrest I was transfixed. It's a kaleidoscopic view of this world and a testament to Erik's talent."

Born in Brooklyn in 1954 and raised on Long Island, Larson was a studious kid with a big smile and a flair for drama. "My friends and I used to do chemistry experiments trying to reanimate dead ants," he remembers. "I spent half my childhood burning sulfur over a Bunsen burner to create smoke for the backdrop for our cap gun play."

Larson made his first attempt at a novel in junior high—it was inspired by Nancy Drew books and featured a sex scene. After earning a journalism degree from Columbia University in 1978, he wrote for newspapers and magazines and kept pushing to do longer pieces. In 1983, he met his future wife—a doctor with whom he has three daughters—on a blind date, and, after a couple of broken engagements ("I was a classic noncommitting male," he admits), got married in 1985.

Since the publication of Larson's first book, The Naked Consumer, in 1992, his wife has been his invaluable first reader who marks up his manuscripts with smiley faces and zzz's—feedback he relies on. "My wife is exactly the audience I seek for my books," he says. "This isn't for scholars; it's for people who want to come to a world new."

Larson, a fan of Alfred Hitchcock and Dashiell Hammett, writes with a cinematic touch that has made him popular in Hollywood. Most of his books are in various stages of film and television development, notes Jason Richman, Larson's agent at United Talent Agency, including No One Goes Alone, which is being made into a movie. "Erik puts everything into his work," Richman says. "He tells emotional stories set against large backdrops and always takes a human approach."

When Larson isn't writing—lately he's been tinkering with a psychological thriller—he enjoys cooking and checking in on his adult daughters, to whom he sends anxious "dad alerts," reminding them to stay safe. "The lowest point of dad alerts came after I read about a sea otter attacking a woman and sent a dad alert to avoid otters," he says.

Larson's humor and sense of wonder enliven his books and help him to connect readers to the larger world. "I love using real-life material to tell a story," he says, leaning against his table with the matching monkey lamps. "I want to sink a person into an era, and suspend their knowledge of what happens next."

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In this 2016 interview, Erik Larson talks about Dead Wake, his non-fiction account of the 1915 sinking of the Lusitania.

You often write about fascinating events in history that most of us have never before heard of, but much is already known about the Lusitania. What made you decide to write about its last crossing?

The Lusitania, like the Titanic, is just such a compelling story, and I felt I could do it in a way that no one else had. I was drawn by the prospect of using the vast fund of archival materials available on the subject to produce a real-life maritime thriller—things like code books, intercepted telegrams, even some extremely passionate love letters between Woodrow Wilson and the woman he fell in love with after his first wife had died. It became for me an exploration of the potential for generating suspense in a work of nonfiction. Plus, I knew the one hundredth anniversary of the disaster—May 7, 2015—was just over the horizon. Further, I'd wager that just about everything that people know or think they know about the Lusitania is just flat-out wrong. Certainly that was the case with me. The sheer wrenching drama of the event pretty much took my breath away. 


What does the phrase "dead wake" mean, and why is it particularly appropriate as the title of your book?

"Dead wake" is a maritime term for the disturbance that lingers on the surface of the sea long after the passage of a vessel—or a torpedo. As readers will find, the term resonates in other ways as well. 


Germany made it clear that passengers sailing on British ships "do so at their own risk," yet the Lusitania's crew and passengers were, at least initially, surprisingly unfazed. Why did they feel so confident the ship was safe?

The ship was so big, and so fast, it just seemed invulnerable. Plus, the prevailing belief at the time was that no German submarine commander would ever sink a passenger liner. It was unthinkable. 


Dead Wake is full of fascinating characters. Do you have a favorite among them? 

Dwight Harris, a young New Yorker on his way to England to get engaged. I found his account to be utterly charming—despite the fact he was describing a disaster that took over a thousand lives. He was very pleased to have survived the episode, and wrote about it at length in a letter to his mother (who probably fainted as she read it).


President Woodrow Wilson and his budding relationship with Edith Galt feature prominently in the book. Why did you feel it was important to include their story in the narrative?

It was important for context. Too often historical events are presented without a sense of what else was going on at the time. I found it very compelling that while the Lusitania was making its way across the Atlantic on that last fatal voyage, Wilson was falling ever more deeply in love with Edith, so much so that it left him disoriented, and doubtless contributed to one of the great gaffes in the history of presidential speeches.  


You provide a harrowing, moment-by-moment account of the Lusitania's sinking. What helped you most in terms of your ability to re-create that event in real time?

The most valuable tools were depositions and other first-person accounts given soon after the sinking. These provided a rich timeline of events: the peace and good cheer aboard ship as the Irish coast appeared in the distance, the moment of impact, and the truly macabre and disconcerting things that followed, as parents made cruel choices and passengers confronted the decision of whether to jump, get in a lifeboat, or stay aboard. These events, juxtaposed against details about the U-boat's voyage as revealed in the War Log of its captain, Walther Schwieger, and in secretly intercepted telegrams, helped me create a real-time sense of growing dread and danger.


What was the most surprising or affecting thing you learned in the course of your research?

Easily the most moving moment was when I was granted special access by the University of Liverpool to examine a collection of morgue photographs taken soon after the disaster. I was not permitted to photograph or otherwise reproduce the images, for obvious reasons. But the photographs really brought home to me something that tends to get lost in the historiography of the event—that it was first and foremost a deeply tragic event that subjected two thousand men, women, and children to unimaginable horror. 


You've called Dead Wake a maritime Devil in the White City. Why?

Because here was this luxurious vessel, a monument to the hubris and invention of the age, making its way through the sea, as another vessel, a German U-boat commanded by a prolific killer of ships and men, entered the same waters. It seemed to touch some of the contrasting themes that arise in Devil—the juxtaposition of good and evil, light and dark, invention and destruction. 

  
The German U-boat captain Walter Schwieger was beloved by his crew, yet ruthless when it came to sinking ships, and the associated casualties. Is he to be admired or loathed?

Neither. He was a submarine commander whose sole mission was to sink as much British tonnage as possible. This was a war; he did his job. But, at the same time, he was a character of considerable nuance, sufficiently humane to rescue a dachshund adrift at sea after one of his attacks. 

  
An ultrasecret spy group, working under the British Admiralty, was tracking the German subs, so knew the Lusitania was at risk. Why didn't they convey that information?

It's one of the lasting mysteries of the Lusitania affair—Why was the ship allowed to proceed into British waters without escort, and with only minimal information conveyed to its captain as to the mounting danger that awaited him in the Irish Sea? In my book, as the story unfolds, I lay out various strands of evidence; I leave it to the reader to decide. 


Captain William Thomas Turner ends up being blamed for the sinking of the Lusitania, by those who knew better. Why?

To me the answer seems pretty clear: The Admiralty had a very important secret to protect. But I don't want to spoil the fun, so I'll leave that for readers to discover on their own.

Unless otherwise stated, this interview was conducted at the time the book was first published, and is reproduced with permission of the publisher. This interview may not be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the copyright holder.