Nonfiction that reads like fiction is a major weakness of mine. I learned about this book when I was in my true crime podcast era a couple years ago, but I didn’t feel compelled to read about the genesis of the FBI. Even so, all that took me to pick this up was a few tweets by Brandon Taylor and the movie teaser trailer. I had expected a glorification of the police state, but Grann instead points out the systemic abuses of power that underscored the Bureau’s beginnings. And still, the care taken in telling the Burkharts’ story felt to be Grann’s top priority. In an age of ubiquitously careless true crime narratives, this book is a stand-out powerhouse.

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“In May, when coyotes howl beneath an unnervingly large moon, taller plants, such as spiderworts and black-eyed Susans, begin to creep over the tinier blooms, stealing their light and water. The necks of the smaller flowers break and their petals flutter away, and before long they are buried underground. This is why the Osage Indians refer to May as the time of the flower-killing moon.”

“History is a merciless judge. It lays bare our tragic blunders and foolish missteps and exposes our most intimate secrets, wielding the power of hindsight like an arrogant detective who seems to know the end of the mystery from the outset.”