Looking out my newspaper office’s window in Bombay in 1997, I could watch the daily electricity-grid failures as they advanced across the city like storm clouds. A second or two would pass before the generators kicked in at the hospital—surely a very long second or two for patients dependent upon respirators or other life-support devices. Millions upon millions of people, many millions more marching in from the countryside, but scant power. I wondered: Why isn’t somebody building electricity plants? They’d be doing a great human service, and they’d surely make a killing. Somebody was: a remarkable woman named Rebecca Mark, who worked for a company called Enron, today a collapsed corporate star around which a large literature has accreted: financial reportage, editorials, op-ed columns, government hearings, The Smartest Guys in the Room, and, now, the not-quite-a-musical...


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