I’ve heard only a fraction of all the magic you’re doing for this book, and I thank you for it. I also want to thank everyone else at St. Martin’s Press just for reading Maame because it’s an incredible thing to have Sarah constantly tell me how much of a unanimous decision it was to take me on as an author.
To my mum, who, although she’s more thoughtful and supportive than Maddie’s, is just as full of funny one-liners. To this day my favorite continues to be this Valentine’s Day special:
Mummy Dearest
Darling
Have you a valentine this year?
Me
No, mum
Mummy Dearest
Okay.
Let Jesus be your valentine.
I couldn’t make up your one-liners if I tried. Although I jest, I can’t describe what it’s like or means to have a mother who constantly thinks of and prays for you, especially when I remember you do so because you truly believe it’s the greatest thing you can do for me. I hope to never forget that. Thanks for eventually coming around to my dream of being an author after I mercilessly trampled on your dreams of me becoming a lawyer/doctor/veterinarian. To my older brother who unknowingly saved me when he refused to get off the phone until I asked a friend to come and stay with me, and to my younger brother who, whenever I’m asked to talk about him, my first response is: “I just love him very much.”
There is a reason why Nia and Shu are undisputed favorites for readers. To Ashleigh La’Rose Wright Mitchell, my very own Nia, who never runs out of pride and encouragement when it comes to everything I put my mind to. I can’t quite describe Ashleigh—you just have to know her, and it’s a downright shame some of you never will. In a world of fair-weather friendships and fickle acquaintances, the greatest thing anyone can do is have an Ashleigh in their corner. I try not to think on it too deeply, but if you hadn’t dropped everything and packed a bag to come and stay with me when my dad died, I might not have written this story. I don’t say how grateful I am to have you in my life enough, but now that I’ve written this book, perhaps I won’t always have to （even though I’m sure it’s always nice to hear）。
To Camila Bloise, my Shu, who I’m certain has no idea she kept me as “Jess” when my dad died. I was saying to myself just the other day that for more than a decade, despite different universities, jobs, friendship groups, and area codes, we always find our way back to each other. I often think about the time I sat you down in the Dishoom in King’s Cross after you brought me back so much chocolate and candy from the U.S. it warranted an extra suitcase just to tell you how much I loved you and wished I’d appreciated you more years before. I’ve not stopped appreciating you since, and now you can’t get rid of me. Now I’m the friend who sends you eight-minute-long voice notes about coconut jelly in my bubble tea on a random Wednesday afternoon whilst you’re trying to work.
To Chris Modafferi, because she is the ultimate, feel-great-about-yourself hype woman, and every author needs a Chris. Nobody effervesces quite like you do and I hope you know that. To Delal Jamal, simply because I still have that card you brought me, with THE BEST IS YET TO BE on the front, when after hundreds of submission rejections, I found an agent.
Last but by no means least, to Dad—obviously. Thank you for everything even when you weren’t doing much. Writing this book has reminded me of a lot and I’m so grateful for that. I’m so grateful to have been given the opportunity to immortalize you in print, our wordless memories trapped within paper and ink. Our introverted tendencies meant we have hardly any photos or videos together, and I’ve heard a lot about how it can get harder and harder to remember a loved one the more time passes after their death. I know it has nothing to do with how much you loved the person or how much they meant to you, and I don’t see myself forgetting certain things about you on purpose, but alas, memory and age are not the greatest of partners. That combined with a lack of photographic evidence needed to illuminate a fading memory, it wasn’t looking good for me. Now, I’ll always have this book. So the dedication at the beginning reads: For Dad, but secretly, in invisible ink perhaps, it reads For Jess as well. This book is for days when my memory could use an extra bit of help.
Dad, I’m not sure if you’re reading this as I’m unaware of what the book delivery system is like up there, but just in case, I hope you like it. Just don’t read the naughty bits. I love you, okay?
I said last but not least, but I do have a few words for readers. Thank you for taking the time out to read Maame when there is a literal sea of books you could have selected from. If I may, if you have a loved one in your life, write something down about them. Take a picture and record a video and keep them safe for days when your memory could use an extra bit of help.
So, how did I do? Too long?
Jess x
About the Author
Jessica George was born and raised in London to Ghanaian parents and studied English literature at the University of Sheffield. After working at a literary agency and a theater, she landed a job in the editorial department of Bloomsbury UK. Maame is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.