In your most recent book, Monkey Girl, you write about an event that was well-documented by the mainstream media. How did you find fresh angles to write about?

Several of my books have dealt with stories that were heavily covered by the daily press: Not just Monkey Girl, but also my first three books, particularly Mississippi Mud (my murder story set in the South). That does not diminish the opportunities for literary or narrative nonfiction in the least, as long as you have the time and ability to return to "the scene of the crime" after the dust settles, tempers cool and the media gaggle departs.

Monkey Girl is about the latest iteration of America's struggle over what to teach -- and what to believe -- about where we come from. This is an inherently fascinating story. A small town, with obvious echoes of Scopes, imposed a new school curriculum that disparaged evolutionary theory and promoted a creationist-friendly alternative called Intelligent Design. A lawsuit and epic trial followed, covered closely by the national media.

The advantage I bring to the table is one of perspective and time. The focus for the daily press was, primarily, what happened in the courtroom on a particular day, what happened in the school district that led to the lawsuit, what are people saying on the streets during the trial? The daily press had little or no time to examine what, to my mind, are the far more interesting stories of the characters in this drama and their motivations. What drove an ex-cop with a painkiller addiction to volunteer for the school board, then push his community into this controversy? Why did some teachers try to get along and go along with the creationists, while others stood up and refused to teach what they considered a lie? What happens to a close-knit community (in a state founded on principles of religious tolerance) when a holy war divides it?

Then there are the broader questions this story raises: What is the larger context of this battle over evolution, one we seem doomed to repeat every few years? Why are some people so offended by evolutionary theory? What does the science really show us -- not in terms of the misleading "balance" the mainstream media attempts to strike between two positions that don't necessarily warrant equivalence, but based on the weight of the evidence and expert opinion? At its most fundamental level, the story is about why we believe what we believe. Is America a nation of science, or a nation of faith, or irreconcilably divided between both? What's new and fresh is constructing a narrative that examines such questions, while also exploring the events, characters and issues with a depth the daily media cannot match.

You seem to have strong views about many of the issues you’ve written about, yet you present such fair portrayals of these topics. How do you step back from those feelings and prevent them from unduly coloring your narratives? Additionally, can you discuss the difference between objectivity and fairness?

I think having strong feelings about our subjects is essential for a writer of narrative nonfiction; there has to be as much heart as head involved in the process. Readers can tell if it's not there; they're not plunking down $27 just to get newspaper writing with a few extra adjectives. I came to believe strongly, after a year burrowed inside Los Angeles Juvenile Court, that our system for dealing with kids in danger, and dangerous kids, was dysfunctional and often morally bankrupt. I came to feel enormous sympathy for many of the kids and professionals trapped in that system, and outrage at policy makers whose supposed "reforms," conjured out of political expediency rather than actual evidence, ended up making matters worse.

Yet my book was perceived by readers and critics as essentially apolitical, neither liberal nor conservative, because I took pains to give voice to characters across the spectrum caught up in this place. Feeling passion for one's subject is essential, and writing passionately should always be our goal. Yet that does not preclude treating the subjects and characters we write about fairly and accurately. It does, however, allow us occasionally to write about our characters sympathetically.

Fairness and objectivity may sound closely related, but I see them as entirely different. I'm a strong believer in fairness, which is an achievable standard, not so much in objectivity, which is an impossible standard. Objectivity (as it is practiced in the media today) means assuming the dubious position that the writer has no opinions about nor stake in a story, and requires a careful balancing of information from opposing sources on any matter in controversy. Objectivity, not fairness, tends to give a false impression of equivalence.

You’ve said writers should not be afraid to feel connected to their subjects. This differs from traditional journalism, which requires reporters be disinterested observers and recorders of fact. Do you think an emotional connection with the subject is essential for writing well?

This gets back to the idea of writing with heart. For immersion journalism and literary nonfiction, a bond with some (though certainly not all) characters is essential. We are asking them to give of themselves enormously, to share their fears, hopes and histories, all of it personal, much of it difficult. Permitting this level of invasion of privacy requires trust, and trust has to be mutual. I spent months in a neonatal unit with parents caught on a terrible emotional roller coaster. Often I would be the only person present who wasn't too busy to listen to them at length. They understood why I was there, that I was writing a book, yet they needed to feel comfortable being themselves around me, or my "fly on the wall" approach to Baby ER was not going to work. As we got to know one another, they understood that journalists in such situations follow something close to the Hippocratic oath to "do no harm," and everyone relaxed. Our talks became beneficial not just to me, but to them as well. That doesn't mean I become social friends with the people I write about. But it does mean there is often a connection.

Of course, with many characters and stories in my books, a more traditional journalistic relationship is called for, as in my book, Mean Justice, which features a prosecutor with a long history of sending innocent men and women to prison.

For books such as Monkey Girl, it appears you spent extended periods of time away from home. How do you balance the interests of family and writing when working on such projects?

Happily, I'm home much more than most people with conventional workplace jobs that bring them out of the house from morning to night. I'm working at home most of the time, and while I do have to travel for research and for book tours, I'm home most of the year. I'm there to see my children off to school most days and to welcome them home in the afternoon. My commute is 23 feet (socks and shoes optional) and I can have a lunch date with my wife whenever I like.

Who are your favorite authors or favorite books? And what are you reading right now?

Favorite authors and books: Steinbeck, Kidder, McPhee, To Kill a Mockingbird, Tapping the Source, Dispatches

Reading Now: The Ancestor's Tale by Richard Dawkins and The Closers by Michael Connelly

Michael James Werner, a former newspaper reporter, is a graduate student in the Literary Nonfiction program at the University of Oregon.