Back in the 1880s through the 1910s, New York City’s so-called ‘palace hotels’ (not to be confused with The Palace Hotel, which is now, I hear, closing for renovation) were the epicenter for (adult) Hallowe’en parties and (sometimes naughty) fun and games.
As autumn settles in and the temperatures turn crisp, create a pot of delicious spiced mulled cider. As it simmers, fragrant spices and fruit fill the air with a delightful aroma.
Inflation has become an incessant topic of conversation. It's difficult to miss in our daily lives, whether we're staring at a grocery bill, calculating housing costs, or noticing the rising price of simple essentials.
In the opening notes to my books, I generally talk about the value of the dollar, then and now, to give readers context since a price mentioned in a story can feel abstract until we have some sense of what that amount might mean in today’s money.
As much as I love writing, I have to confess an equal affection for playing music. The two are intimately related, I think: Words are like notes, each one selected to create a melody in the reader’s mind. A book’s characters are like individual instruments in an orchestra, and a book itself reminds me of a symphony, with slow and fast movements combining (one hopes) into a harmonious whole.
Here’s a recipe for Panamanian Fish Tacos, which will pair nicely with your dinner conversation about your favorite bits and scenes from The Mosquito God.
Today I answer a few Subscriber Questions about my pending (impending?) new release, The Mosquito God: Theodore Roosevelt’s Spy Game. Quite a few good ones came in after last week’s newsletter, and for the sake of brevity I’ve tried to pick out a few that are representative of recurring themes. If your question isn’t answered today, however, don’t give up the ship! I’ll either reply to you personally or pick out another few each week. I appreciate them all.
The justly world-famous Panama Canal, opened officially on August 15, 1914—almost 122 years ago to the day—transformed more than the world of oceanic commerce. It also brought with it revolutions in medicine and health, construction technology, and, um, revolution. So today, less than a month away from the appearance of my next novel, The Mosquito God: Theodore Roosevelt’s Spy Game, I offer a little quiz to see how much you really know about the ‘Big Ditch.’ Test your wits and enjoy!
My next full-length novel, The Mosquito God: Theodore Roosevelt’s Spy Game, is now available for preorder, releasing on October 6, everywhere you shop for books.
I have a little surprise for you—free!—a short story called Future Perfect.
In Future Perfect, the worlds of 1903 and 2026 collide temporarily via the good offices of a malfunctioning trolley—with what I think are interesting consequences.
In today's video, I demonstrate a gen-yoo-ine Gilded Age ‘trade stimulator’ from 1894, which not only offers a glimpse into saloon culture of the period, but will also show you why I don’t play Powerball.
A staple of Gilded Age kitchens and holiday picnic menus alike, salmon croquettes have remained beloved for generations thanks to their crisp exterior, tender center, and simple elegance.
The sense of smell, it is said, is the one most closely linked to memory.
Anyone who has been instantly transported back in personal time by the scent of burning leaves, baking cookies, or a favorite flower will agree. As would Marcel Proust, whose famous madeleine became the sponge-cake that launched a million words.
I happen to like shoes—a lot. Many men seem to take less delight in them than do the ladies, but not me! For a lot of my male friends, anyway, footwear is viewed either as an afterthought or as a downright nuisance.
In the Gilded Age, shoes refused to be an afterthought—though they could be a darned nuisance. Read on!
