I'm a big fan of Bryan Burrough. He pretty much set the bar for how to write booklength financial journalism, with his account of the RJR-Nabiso melee (the only competitor in its category would be David McClintock's narrative of David Begelman's grand malfeasance at Columbia Pictures). Burrough also wrote a promising-looking account of the Texas big rich, which I've been meaning to get back to. Now he's back, discussing body cavity searches over chardonnay with the inimitable Conrad Black--is there another book in the offing?
Anyway, just now I'm getting round to savoring the irony that Burrough also wrote--perhaps his best book--the best history I've ever encountered of the small-time hoods, bank robbers and killers who bestrode the stage in the 1930s. All in a day's work, eh Bryan?