MY HEARTFELT THANKS:
To my agent, Laura Dail—thank you for being a fierce advocate, a loyal friend, an enthusiastic supporter, an opportunity-finder, a follow-upper, a fashion-inspirer, and for connecting me to my editor, Claudia Gabel.
To the aforementioned Claudia Gabel—what can I say? It’s hard to admit when a book gets the better of you, but this book did get the better of me . . . at least for a little while. Thank you, Claudia, for your kindness, your patience, and your steadfast belief in this story and my ability to tell it.
To the team at HarperCollins, especially Stephanie Guerdan, for entertaining and productive brainstorm sessions; Judy Goldschmidt, for her thoughtful notes; Becca Clason and Aurora Parlagreco, for designing a cover that I can’t stop staring at; Shona McCarthy and Kathryn Silsand, for their careful reads of the manuscript; Maya Myers, for going over every single sentence with a fine-toothed comb; Shannon Cox, Haley George, Ebony LaDelle, and Kaitlin Loss, for helping to get this book into readers’ hands; and Katherine Tegen, for giving this book the very best home.
To Lia, Rachael, and Daniel Carson—my boots-on-the-ground-in-Minnesota friends, who answered all my pressing questions (is it a highway or a freeway? Seltzer or bubbly water?); to my Bay Area pals, especially Lisa, Peter, Marachel, and Lily Leib, who have traveled down Memory Lane with me approximately a million times, usually while sharing Round Table Pizza; to Alex Coler Warren (and Lucy!), who answered all my questions about cochlear implants; and to a few friends who let me ask some very personal questions, and helped me get Talley’s story just right.
To my extraordinary writing community. Shouts-out to three in particular who helped with this book: Adele Griffin, who mined for diamonds in my (vomitous) first draft, and went line by line, page by page, chapter by chapter, on the phone into the wee hours, talking me through every one of her excellent notes; Sarah Mlynowski, whose eyes beam sunshine and optimism, and who often gets to the heart of what I’m trying to say faster than I do; and Meg Wolitzer, who was one of my very favorite writers long before we met in person. Thank you, Meg, for taking me seriously as a writer, for challenging me to go deeper, for making me laugh, and for sharing boatloads of guacamole.
To my Writopia Lab family, especially Yael Schick, Danielle Sheeler, and Rebecca Wallace-Segall; and to my beloved Tuesday workshop alums who still hang out on our group text-chat, and remain endlessly inspiring: Drew Arnum, Lily Davis, Altana Elings-Haynie, Katie Hartman, Pilot Irwin, Georgia Silverman, Carly Sorenson, and Kai Williams.
To Amy Bressler, Jennifer Daly, and Arielle Warshall Katz, who are the kind of friends who bring out the best in me, and aren’t afraid of the worst in me.
To Regan Hofmann, my daily sounding board and the Queen of Metaphors. Speaking of metaphors: sometimes when writing gets tough, I remember the time she taught me to chop firewood. I swung the ax, it got stuck, I wanted to give up, and she made me keep going. Boom! Firewood. Thanks, Regs.
To all my friends, who show up, whether to celebrate or to commiserate: Lindsay Aaronson, Andrew Baum, Jen Calonita, Maria Crocitto, Erin Cummings, Gitty Daneshvari, Julia DeVillers, Melissa Eisenberg, Gayle Forman, Jackie Friedland, Jake Glaser, Mary Gordon, Corey Ann Haydu, Mary Beth Keane, Logan Levkoff, Melissa Losquadro, Geralyn Lucas, Samantha Moss, Richard Panek, Laura Schechter Parker, Stacia Robitaille, Jess Rothenberg, Jill Santopolo, Katie Stein, J. Courtney Sullivan, Bianca Turetsky, Susan Verde, and Christine Whelan.
To my parents . . . most people only get two parents, but I have three, and they are constant sources of love and support: my father, Joel Sheinmel; my mother, Elaine Sheinmel Getter; and my stepfather, Philip Getter.
To my sister, Alyssa Sheinmel, and my brother-in-law, JP Gravitt; to my stepsiblings and siblings-in-law, Laura and Rob Liss, Doug and Sunčica Getter, and IanMichael Getter.
To the five best nieces and nephews on the planet: Nicki, Andrew, and Zach Liss, who have aged out of being my test readers; and Sara and Tesa Getter, who have aged into it, and whose excitement and encouragement are the most meaningful.
To the ones I miss, especially my aunt Jean V. Odesky; and my grandparents Diane and William Buda, and Doris and Archie Sheinmel.
And to my grandma Diane’s sisters, who were killed in the Holocaust: Minka, Esther, and Yedith Liebson—oh, how I wish I’d met you. This book is for your older sister, and for you.