I (a French person) started playing with the idea of maybe one day writing a novel in English when I was nineteen. It took me a decade to get there—a decade during which U.S. publishing seemed to me a bright, impossibly distant wonder. What I’m trying to say is: I can’t believe I’m here. Sorry, I know I’m supposed to play it cool, but I truly can’t.
In the making of this novel, I have been incredibly lucky to work with people who are not only disturbingly good at their jobs but who understood what I was trying to do with this story—and, even better, who loved it. This means more to me than I can put into words. (Even though putting things into words is my literal job.) And so, I extend my most heartfelt thanks to:
Reagan Arthur, my editor: You have edited and published some of my very favorite books, books that made me a writer. Thank you for your kindness, your keen eye, your energy, and your generosity. Tim O’Connell, my acquiring editor on this book, for the first round of edits, and for telling me early on that this is supposed to be fun. Reagan, Tim: I don’t think it’s easy to make a writer feel completely safe on the page, but you both did. Thank you.
Stephen Barbara, whom I am so lucky to call my agent, for supporting this novel from the very first moments, for your tireless work, and for your friendship. I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but your belief in my work changed my life. Thank you for everything.
The dream team at Knopf: Jordan Pavlin, my friend Abby Endler, Rita Madrigal, Isabel Yao Meyers, Rob Shapiro, Maria Carella, Kelsey Manning, Zachary Lutz, Sara Eagle, John Gall, and Michael Windsor.
The dream team at InkWell Management: Alexis Hurley, for taking this book quite literally around the world, Maria Whelan, Hannah Lehmkuhl, Jessie Thorsted, Lyndsey Blessing, and Laura Hill. And to Ryan Wilson at Anonymous Content for his work on screen rights.
To Clare Smith from Little, Brown UK, for bringing this book across the Atlantic, for her endless enthusiasm, and for her ever-helpful notes. Thank you, Clare. Special thanks also to Éléonore Delair at Fayard/Mazarine, and to the editors around the world who have loved this book.
To Paul Bogaards, a very special publicist who makes everything fun and easy (and who brings the best surprise guests to coffee). I’m so honored you love my work. And to Stephanie Kloss and Stephanie Hauer from Bogaards PR.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that writers want to be loved, but I think a lot of us underestimate how much the love of a good scout can change a life. Heartfelt thanks to the scouts who supported this book.
To Tyler Daniels, my husband. Thank you for believing in me, for reading my drafts, for finding the title of this novel, and for talking through plot points. I’m so lucky to have you in my life and to be in yours. And thank you for being an amazing dad to our dog, Claudine.
To my parents, Jean-Jacques and Anne-France Michallon, respectively for teaching me there’s nothing wrong with chasing slightly absurd goals (such as writing novels in English when your first language is French), and for enabling my immense love of books (and kick-starting my, um, interest in serial killers). To my grandmother Arlette Pennequin, who heard about this novel before it became a book and learned everything there was to learn about U.S. publishing. I think she might be the French grandmother with the most thorough knowledge of the industry.
To my in-laws, Tom and Donna Daniels: I started writing this novel while staying in a house with you in the Hudson Valley. And then I used this house (your house) as the model for Aidan’s in this book. And I told you only after I’d finished the book and gotten a publishing deal for it. And you weren’t even mad. In fact, you were so happy and proud. Thank you for your love and support, which mean so much to me.
To Holly Baxter, for her faith in this novel before it was even completed. Your enthusiasm got me over the finish line, as did your wise advice. (First draft first, existential crisis later.)
To my French friends, for being amazing and witty and so very supportive and, let’s face it, extremely good-looking: Morgane Giuliani, Clara Chevassut, Lucie Ronfaut-Hazard, Ines Zallouz, Camille Jacques, Xavier Eutrope, Geoffroy Husson, Swann Ménage.
To Christine Opperman, an amazing friend and generous reader whose notes somehow always match those later given to me by editors. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, and for talking some sense into me when necessary.
To my dear friend Nathan McDermott, the best friend a writer (or, really, any person) could want. Thank you for your support and praise, and for everything else.
To my therapist, whom I can’t name for obvious reasons, who read an early draft of this novel. (How awesome is that?) Thank you for literally keeping me sane.
The movie quote in chapter 33 is from the lovely Last Christmas starring Emilia Clarke and Henry Golding. I’ve often wondered what it’s like for people who are somehow related to serial killers (or, you know, are serial killers) to hear serial killer jokes in movies or on television. There we have it.
In chapter 25, May contributes an essay to a section of a website called “I Lived Through It.” It’s inspired by the “It Happened to Me” essays run by the now-defunct xoJane from, I believe, the website’s inception in 2011 to its closing in 2016. Those pieces were my introduction to personal essays back when I was attending college in France. They captivated me. I’m happy I got to experience a version of that era, vicariously, through this novel, many years later.
And finally, a world of thanks to the other people who made me a writer: Madame Sultan, the high school teacher who told me when I was a teenager: “Do not stop writing. Otherwise, you’ll let yourself get taken by life…” (I didn’t stop writing.) Monsieur Chaumié, who read my short stories before they were ready to be read. Arlaina Tibensky, who embraced my messy ideas. And Karen Stabiner, who taught me I had to love this more than anything else.