In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, author Lois Lowry discusses her latest novel Building 903, which imagines a dystopian 2099 where books, art, and music have been systematically eliminated. Lowry shares the real-world experiences that inspired this cautionary tale, including visiting her grandson's empty high school library, and explains how literature cultivates imagination and empathy—capacities she fears are eroding in contemporary society.
The conversation also explores recurring themes across Lowry's work, particularly the relationships between young and old characters that appear throughout her books, from The Giver to Building 903. Lowry reflects on how her communication with readers has evolved from monthly letters to daily emails, and discusses how she balances adapting to modern readers' expectations for faster pacing while maintaining her commitment to careful language and storytelling craft.

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Lois Lowry's Building 903 is set in 2099, depicting a dystopian society ruled by Zulkirus, a despotic leader who has maintained autocratic control for decades through electoral corruption. Lowry explains that Zulkirus has systematically eliminated music, pets, art, and especially books, creating a society characterized by "a lot of no's." The cultural deprivation is so complete that young people like protagonist Tessa and even their parents have never experienced literature, leaving them without any frame of reference for understanding written works.
The novel follows 14-year-old Tessa, whose elderly neighbor Miriam gives her a key to hidden contraband before being sent away to a facility. When Tessa discovers the books, she opens The Very Hungry Caterpillar and struggles to understand it, revealing the profound intellectual loss inflicted by the regime.
Lowry's vision for Building 903 stems from real-world anxieties about eroding literature in contemporary education. She recalls visiting her grandson's high school library and finding the shelves completely empty—books were no longer kept there. This startling encounter, combined with observations of schools replacing full-length books with excerpts, prompted Lowry to imagine a world where books have faded entirely. For Lowry, whose lifelong relationship with literature has been deeply meaningful, the prospect of literary disappearance is painful and compelled her to construct this warning about what could happen if society continues to erode its connection to cultural heritage.
Lowry reflects on literature's profound role in shaping human imagination, empathy, and connection. She describes how books like The Yearling and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn expanded her horizons as a child, granting her "the privilege, which I worry is being lost now," to enter the heart of another human being through reading.
Lowry explicitly connects imagination to empathy, explaining that when people lose the power to imagine themselves in the place of another—even a caterpillar—they lose the capacity for empathy. This loss threatens humanity's future. Tessa's confusion when encountering The Very Hungry Caterpillar exemplifies this—having never seen a book, caterpillar, or butterfly, she lacks the imaginative power to envision what's being described.
In Building 903, Lowry deliberately leaves certain mysteries unsolved, including the nature of the "tattooed man" and other characters. She wants readers to finish her book feeling satisfied yet eager to wonder about unresolved questions with others, inviting them to extend the work of the text imaginatively and engage as active participants.
Lowry's literary career is deeply rooted in exploring relationships between the very young and the very old. From her first book, she has intentionally included connections between young and elderly characters, a pattern evident in works like The Giver and Tree Table Book. As Lowry aged and built close relationships with her grandchildren, these intergenerational dynamics became even more important in her life and work.
Lowry often illustrates elders sharing stories with youth, finding it a recurring element across her books. She draws connections to Holocaust survivors sharing testimony, observing that this process preserves crucial historical perspectives. Lowry describes this as an "apostolic succession"—a generational process that strengthens the thread binding generations. The benefits flow both ways: elders build a legacy while young people gain connection, wisdom, and continuity.
Lowry's communication with young readers has evolved from formulaic monthly typed letters to dozens of daily emails. The instantaneous nature of email enables direct response and deeper conversations, sometimes spanning years. She notes one girl in Vermont who corresponded with her for years, eventually reconnecting decades later with children of her own reading Lowry's books. The Giver particularly bridges generations, with parents who read it as teens now revisiting it with their children, creating opportunities for shared reflection and parent-child communication.
Despite changing technology and expectations, Lowry's approach to writing remains consistent. She affirms that writers of fiction always focus on the basics—characters, plot, and setting—elements she's relied on since publishing her first book in 1977. Lowry maintains her commitment to careful word selection and arrangement, reading her work aloud during revision and moving words "as if with tweezers" to achieve optimal beauty and fluency.
Lowry recognizes that modern children read differently, expecting faster plots and more immediate action due to technology's acceleration of attention spans. She adapts by increasing pacing and writing shorter books rather than lengthy 400-page novels. Despite these modern trends, Lowry never sacrifices her meticulous attention to "the cadence and fluency and the beauty of language and of words."
Lowry expresses deep reservations about AI's impact on literature. Inspired by Robert Frost's poem, she rewrote its opening to "some say the world will end in fire, others say AI," making clear she is "not a fan" of AI. For Lowry, AI's rise highlights the necessity of protecting the elements that make literature profoundly human—imagination, empathy, and authentic storytelling that no algorithm can replicate.
1-Page Summary
Building 903 is set in the year 2099, depicting a dystopian world under the control of a despotic ruler named Zulkirus. In this society, almost everything that defines culture and intellect—music, pets, art, and especially books—is banned. Zulkirus, who has manipulated the electoral system to maintain his autocratic rule for decades and has achieved an exceptionally long life, has restructured the world to his advantage. Although the people despise him, they lack any viable method to remove him from power. Over time, Zulkirus has erased avenues for dissent and intellectual freedom, enforcing generational deprivation of arts and literature.
Lois Lowry explains that Zulkirus has fundamentally changed society through electoral corruption and decades of suppressing culture. By eliminating access to art, music, and books, he ensures that no challenges to his authority or independent thinking can emerge. The world he controls is characterized by "a lot of no's," with citizens deprived of creative outlets and intellectual engagement for generations.
The absence of books has been so absolute that not only Tessa and her teenage peers but their parents as well have never experienced literature. This generational deprivation means young people have no cultural grounding or frame of reference for written works—the language, idioms, and images of books are foreign to them.
The novel follows Tessa, a 14-year-old girl whose twin brother Theo has gone missing. Her closest confidante is Miriam, her elderly neighbor. Before being sent away to a facility, Miriam hands Tessa a key to boxes of contraband she’d hidden, containing newspaper clippings, a catcher's mitt, and—crucially—books. Upon discovering the books, Tessa opens one with a brightly colored cover and tries to read: “One Sunday morning, the warm sun came up, and pop, out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.” Tessa comments on the pretty colors but admits, “I don’t really understand what it’s talking about.” Her struggle reveals the depth of cultural and intellectual loss inflicted by the regime.
Lowry’s vision for Building 903 stems from real-world anxietie ...
Building 903's Dystopia and Lowry's Literary Concerns
Lois Lowry and others reflect on the profound role of literature in shaping human imagination, empathy, and connection. Through stories, readers gain insight into lives unlike their own, developing the capacity to relate to others and envision different worlds. The loss of literature, Lowry warns, risks undermining these essential human qualities.
Lowry describes how, as a child, books like The Yearling and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn profoundly expanded her horizons. These novels introduced her to gritty, difficult, and unfamiliar lives, granting her "the privilege, which I worry is being lost now," to enter the heart of another human being through reading. This ability to put oneself into another’s experience is fundamentally tied to the imagination literature develops.
Lowry explicitly connects imagination to empathy. She explains that when people lose the power to imagine themselves in the place of another—be it another human or even a caterpillar—they lose the capacity for empathy. This loss, she cautions, threatens to destroy humanity’s future if it is allowed to continue.
Lowry emphasizes that eliminating literature, and thus the imaginative exploration it offers, is dangerous because it erodes society's ability to empathize. She suggests that fiction’s role in helping readers envision unfamiliar experiences is essential to sustaining empathy and, by extension, human civilization.
A vivid illustration from Lowry's work centers on Tessa, who, having never seen a book before, is both excited and confused when encountering The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Tessa’s inability to understand or connect with the story, compounded by having never seen a caterpillar or butterfly, exemplifies a life where so much of imagination has been lost. Lowry notes that what is really missing is the power of imagination—the skill to read fiction and truly envision what is being described. This, she asserts, is a profound loss.
Imagining and Empathizing In Human Connection Through Stories
Lois Lowry’s literary career is deeply rooted in exploring relationships between the very young and the very old, both through her storytelling and her personal experiences.
From the outset of her writing, Lowry has highlighted the significance of connections between young and elderly characters. In her very first book, which was semi-autobiographical and inspired by the death of her sister, Lowry fabricated an elderly neighbor character for her youthful protagonist—a relationship she did not have in real life, but which she recognized as narratively important. This intentional inclusion set a pattern for her future work.
Books like "The Giver" and "Tree Table Book" further exemplify this theme. "Tree Table Book" centers entirely on the relationship between an 11-year-old girl and her 89-year-old neighbor, subtly emphasizing the value of intergenerational bonds. Lowry’s reading as a child also reinforced this motif; she recalls "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" and how it introduced her to protagonists her own age connected to different ways of life and different generations.
As Lowry herself aged, these intergenerational relationships became even more important in her life. Building close relationships with her grandchildren made her increasingly aware of the significance and complexity of the young-old dynamic—a realization reflected more consciously in her later work.
Lowry often illustrates the process of elders sharing their stories with the young, finding it a recurring element across her books. She draws connections to Holocaust studies, observing that as survivors age, sharing their testimony with younger generations preserves crucial historical perspectives and creates a generational record, passing down knowledge and understanding.
From a personal standpoint, Lowry feels the regret of not having asked her parents important questions while they were alive. She thus tries to share her own stories with her children and grandchildren, hoping they will appreciate them later. Lowry describes this as an "apostolic succession"—a generational process that strengthens the thread binding one generation to the next.
The benefits flow both ways. From the elder’s perspective, telling stories builds a legacy and ensures a part of themselves continues onward. For young people, these relationships foster connection, wisdom (even if jestingly dismissed by grandchildren), and most importantly, continuity—providing a sense of belonging in a chain that stretches across generations.
As the world of communication evolved, so did Lowry’s interactions with her young readers. In the early days, she received fan mail that was formulaic and often the product of classroom assignments, meticulously checked by teachers.
Now, digital communication allows immediacy and intimacy. Lowry receives dozens of emails from young readers daily, who can be candid and passionate—sometimes even ...
Intergenerational Relationships in Lowry's Work
Lois Lowry’s writing career reflects both adaptation to changing times and a steadfast dedication to linguistic beauty. She continues to embrace the essentials of fiction while accommodating new generational expectations and expressing concern over the influence of artificial intelligence on literature.
Lowry affirms that no matter how technology or expectations change, her approach to writing is fundamentally unchanged. She states that writers of fiction always focus on the basics—characters, plot, and setting—a tradition she follows since she began publishing in 1977. For Lowry, these elements form the backbone of storytelling, learned and honed over the years.
Even as modes of communication and technology evolve, Lowry consistently relies on these fundamental storytelling pillars. From her first book in 1977, she builds her narratives around these core elements.
Lowry maintains her long-held commitment to the careful selection and arrangement of words. She pays as much attention now as she did at the start of her career to the cadence, fluency, and beauty of language. The meticulous placement of words and the artistry of sentences remain central to her writing process.
Lowry’s revision process centers on the musicality and effectiveness of language. After completing a draft, she reads her work aloud, moving words as if with tweezers to achieve optimal beauty and fluency. She admits that, despite these efforts, she often wishes she could improve her work further, but the commitment to linguistic excellence is a constant.
Lowry recognizes that modern children read differently from previous generations, largely due to technology’s acceleration of attention spans. She acknowledges that kids now expect faster plots and more immediate action, as influenced by the digital pace of contemporary life.
She adapts by increasing the pacing in her narratives, ensuring plots move quickly and keep young readers engaged. Lowry notes that she must be “more speedy with plot” so that children’s quick mental pace is satisfied and the pages turn swiftly.
In response to changing reader preferences, Lowry now avoids lengthy 400-page novels, choosing instead to write shorter books that better fit children’s tastes and attention spans.
However, despite embracing these trends, Lowry never sacrifices her meticulous attention to the beauty and quality of language. She emphasizes that, even with shorter and faster-paced book ...
Lowry's Evolving Writing: Embracing Technology, Preserving Language Beauty and Cadence
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