Dear Readers,
The idea for A Mosaic of Wings was sparked when my then eight-year-old daughter said, “Hey, Mom, why don’t you write a book about a girl entomologist?” I’d already decided I was going to switch genres from contemporary romance to historical fiction, and I loved the thought of writing about one of the nineteenth-century female scientists who made an impact on history.
But I hated insects.
While researching, every time I’d search for “cockroach mating habits” or “largest spider in India,” I’d cover my eyes and squint at the photos through my fingers. Eventually, though, I began to see God’s incredible design and creativity in the subjects I was studying. I’ve dedicated this book to my daughter, who is now thirteen and still wants to be an entomologist, but also to every person who has loved these amazing creatures.
It’s especially for Anna Comstock, who, with her husband, John, worked at Cornell University. I learned about Anna as a homeschooling mom who followed a Charlotte Mason philosophy of education. We Charlotte Mason homeschoolers love nature studies, and Anna’s book Handbook of Nature Study is often referred to and much loved. Not only did Anna illustrate all of her husband’s books, she also wrote and illustrated her own. She was instrumental in the nature study movement and became Cornell University’s first female professor.
I did my best to portray Anna and John accurately. Of course, they died long ago, and I had to fill in the gaps as best I could. Any mistakes are completely my own, but I hope I’ve done justice to this wonderful and interesting couple. If you want to learn more about Anna, please read her nature study book, as well as the biography The Comstocks of Cornell.
Unlike my feelings for insects, I’ve loved India for decades. I had the opportunity to live there after high school, as well as visit more recently with a nonprofit I volunteer with. There is nowhere else in the world like India. It’s a complex, layered, vibrant country that captures the imagination. It’s a place you don’t quickly forget, and you always want to return to. I hope you fall for it as madly as I did.
Writing about a culture you didn’t grow up in, especially one as flexing and complicated as nineteenth-century India, is always an intimidating prospect. I did a massive amount of research, but there were times I couldn’t find an answer and needed to make the most educated decision. My Indian friends and sensitivity reader were immensely helpful—but there were many conversations that ended with one of them saying, “I don’t know, Kim. That was a hundred and fifty years ago.” Any mistakes are mine, and I’m sincerely sorry for them.
I pray grace over any inconsistencies or errors.
—Kim