Acknowledgments

This was not a story that lacked fuel for the fire. Margot and Wesley remain two of the most entertaining, magnetic characters I’ve ever had the pleasure of pulling from my own marble, but theirs was a heavy boulder to push for a long time. It feels lighter now. Thank you for reaching the end. Every book is itself a process, and I hope this one has been as fulfilling for you to read as it was for me to write. I thank first and always the unknowable thing that lives in me, which makes this practice possible.

To my agent, Chris Bucci, for not pumping the brakes on this plot the second it crossed his desk—and knowing how the hell to even sell it—and to my editor, Kate Dresser, for once again trusting me with your world-class collaboration: this book wouldn’t have been half so bold without your support. If there are two people who would have treated this story with more care than you, I would love to meet them, but I don’t think they exist. Your belief in what I am capable of has sustained me from draft to print, and I can never thank you enough.

To the rest of the powerhouse at Putnam, particularly Tarini Sipahimalani, Katie McKee, Jazmin Miller, and Molly Pieper: you are the best at what you do. I am lucky beyond measure to be part of your story. Thank you.

Luke, this is not The Lord of the Rings. I love you in dialects we haven’t yet learned to speak, and discovering them together is the greatest joy I’ve ever known. You are my favorite reader.

Thank you to Jess, Kelly, Gabe, Kat, Jen, Erika, Tori, Meghan, and Clayton for the bar names I so wish were real places, and to Dr. Later and friends for Edie’s Aussie-isms.

Thank you, variously and heartily, to everyone who has taught me something about myself along the way: to Rose, Katie, and Janna, for always being there; to Sandro, for the photo of the aftermath of Titus on the boards; to Will, George, Mike, and the Santa Fe Opera crew of 2015; to Anna and Hannah, from day one of all this book stuff; to Katy and Elena, from day zero; to Laura Harte, for teaching me how to fall in love with Shakespeare; to the Archive, for making sure I never take myself too seriously; and to my parents, Karen and Rolf, who have never shied away from showing up for me—and could not be further from the demographic of this book but clamored all the same to read it. I love you.

Many thanks as well the those who fed my imagination with their art and helped this book become, chief among the many: Celine Loup, Joëlle Jones, Wilsen, Pitou, Torres, Jonny Greenwood, Marika Hackman, Sarah Kinsley, Julie Taymor, Neil Newbon, Andrew Scott, Sir Trevor Nunn, Dame Judi Dench, and Sir Ian McKellen.

Lastly, thank you to Robert Clift and Hillary Demmon, the filmmakers of Making Montgomery Clift. It was not only a boon for research purposes into the social strata of actors in the 1950s, but presents a tender portrait of a deeply mythologized man whom I hold in great regard. He is described best by Lorenzo James:

Being with Monty was like standing in front of a fireplace in the dead of winter, and you get all this wonderful kind of sincerity. It’s a pity that everybody—and I would have shared Monty with everybody—did not get some of the medicine that Monty was brewing. He’d give off a glow.

Do watch the film if you can find it, it’s very good.

Thank you again for being here. It is a singular feeling, to finish a book. Go give off your glow. I’ll find you in the next one :)