This is a big book, and it took a lot of people to make it happen.
Thanks go first and foremost to Michael Strother, who loved my pitch for this book and whose guidance made it so much better. I’m so grateful that Sarah McCabe was willing to adopt this behemoth and for her astute insights and support (even when the word count continued to grow). The entire team at Simon Pulse are my heroes for giving me the gift of more time to make it right and the gift of their support for this story. Craig Howell and Cliff Nielsen made the most amazing cover art, and I’m still blown away by the beautiful map Drew Willis designed. I could not be more indebted to the sharp eyes of Penina Lopez for her copyediting, to Valerie Shea for her proofreading, and to Clare McGlade for her cold read.
Thank you to all of the people who read early drafts: Kristen Lippert-Martin helped me solve a major plot issue and saved the book, Hope Cook’s honest words helped me see mistakes I hadn’t intended to make and saved the book, and Olivia Hinebaugh kept my spirits up when I felt like the whole project was pointless and saved the book. Kathryn Rose and Helene Dunbar also gave me essential insights to make this story stronger, and I’m grateful for their help.
Thanks to Flavia Brunetti, Guillaume Amphoux, and Christina Ketchum, who all assisted with some of the non-English phrases and words. Any mistakes are, of course, my own. The awesome people at the Lower East Side History Project were unbelievably helpful in walking me around the areas in this book and helping me find where everyone lived. They also give excellent dim sum recommendations.
I’m not sure what I would do without my rock star of an agent, Kathleen Rushall.
I should probably also thank Chris Cornell, who has no idea that his music was the soundtrack to writing this. Who knows why Higher Truth worked for 1902 New York, but it did.
To my family, who has lived with this book for as long as I have. It wasn’t easy to write, which means there were times I wasn’t easy to live with. To J, who makes it possible to run off to the city for research and never doubts that this is what I should be doing, and to H, and X, who are my hearts: I couldn’t do any of this without their support, and I wouldn’t want to.
Finally, like so many in this country, I’m the product of immigrants. A few years back I was looking at Ellis Island ship manifests, and I noticed that none of my great-grandmothers were listed as literate. I’m sure those women would have found me a strange creature with my fancy degrees and complete disinterest in housekeeping, but I hope they would be proud. After all, it was because of their sacrifices and determination that I find myself here, making a life out of the very words they came to this country unable to read. So for those women, and for all who came before, imperfect as they might have been, thank you.