Author William T. Vollmann has traveled to unforgiving and turbulent places in search of insights into the human condition, conducted exhaustive research, and written epic works that commingle genres, deepen our perception of history, intensify our sense of empathy, and complicate our moral equations. Vollmann's new book is a concise (for him) work of socially conscious nonfiction titled simply and provocatively Poor People (Ecco, 2007). A mix of nervy oral history, candid philosophical inquiry, and self-critical personal reflection, Poor People draws on Vollmann's sojourns in Thailand, Yemen, Colombia, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Bosnia, India, Russia, Mexico, and Japan. In each place, he asks people why they are poor, what the best way is to help them, and what their greatest hopes are.

You examined violence in great detail in Rising Up and Rising Down [McSweeney's, 2003]. In Poor People, you focus on poverty.

Yes, but more modestly. In Rising Up and Rising Down, I wanted to develop a moral calculus. Although it's flawed, I do think I achieved something. With Poor People, I thought, I don't have the right or the capability to figure out how to eradicate poverty. I think most other people don't, either. But if I can describe what the experience has been for some people, maybe we can learn something from that. If not, at least we can open ourselves up to people who suffer. We can think about them, and that's probably good for them and good for us.

You make the point that poverty isn't strictly about material deprivation; it also involves the impoverishment of people's inner lives.

That's one of the really sad things. In speaking with people for Rising Up and Rising Down, I would often hear eloquence. When you talk to poor people, you often meet people whose minds and spirits have been starved like their bodies, and so they're not capable of eloquence.

You specialize in ambiguity and empathy. You embrace complexity. You're a walk-a-mile-in-his-shoes writer on an epic scale.

There's a Turkish proverb: 'Whoever says the truth will be chased out of nine villages.' I think that's accurate. To truly consider the other point of view is an extremely dangerous, frightening thing to do. We all think, in the abstract, Oh, yeah, there's always another point of view. But what does that mean? Are we really willing to consider al-Qaida's point of view? Or a child molester's point of view? That doesn't mean we have to say those people are right, but it means we have to ask why they do what they do. But when we try to get that close, we find that we have alienated people close to us. When I wrote The Royal Family [Viking, 2000], I put in a character who was a child molester. Some of my friends said, 'You know, Bill, this time you've really gone too far. This guy is just too despicable and too disgusting. He makes me very, very uncomfortable.' Well, in that case, I've probably succeeded.