An extra huge thanks goes to Felicity Blunt at Curtis Brown. A few years back, before I moved to London, I was researching agents and saw an interview Felicity had given, and I remember thinking, If I could have any agent…And then I did. Thanks, Felicity, for your faith in me, your keen eye, your kindness, your toughness, and your unflagging support. Now that the book is done, please feel free to play with your children.
On the publishing side of things, special thanks to Jane Lawson and Lee Boudreaux, the shrewdest editors a writer could ever hope for, Thomas Tebbe für seine begeisterte Unterstützung, Beci Kelly and Emily Mahon for their eye-catching covers, Maria Carella for the beautiful interior, Cara Reilly for always being on top of things, and Amy Ryan for her gifted copyediting. Thanks also to my publishers, Larry Finlay and Bill Thomas; my talented publicists, Alison Barrow, Elena Hershey, and Michael Goldsmith; the amazing marketing leadership of Vicky Palmer, Lauren Weber, and Lindsay Mandel, and the creative minds of Todd Doughty, Lilly Cox, Sophie MacVeigh, Kristin Fassler, and Erin Merlo. A huge thanks to the patient, eagle-eyed production maven Ellen Feldman, as well as to Lorraine Hyland. Also huge thanks to Tom Chicken, Laura Richetti, Emily Harvey, Laura Garrod, Hana Sparks, Sarah Adams, and the entire sales team. Finally, special thanks to Madeline McIntosh. Your encouragement and support is so very much appreciated.
Researching chemistry is one thing, getting it right is another. To that end, special thanks to Dr. Mary Koto, longtime friend, brilliant biologist, and Eskimo Pie connoisseur, and Dr. Beth Mundy, amazing Seattle chemist and reader, both of whom graciously and meticulously checked the details.
Huge affection and gratitude to all my rowing teammates at Green Lake and Pocock in Seattle, and extra-special thanks to rower Donya Burns, who once insisted our tired crew “recommit to every stroke.” That urging took up permanent residence in my brain and ultimately became the advice Harriet gives Elizabeth.
To the writers who understand how real the struggle is: Joannie Stangeland, poet extraordinaire; Diane Arieff, the most hilarious person on the face of the earth; Sue Monshaw for keeping the faith; and Laura Kasischke, who probably doesn’t remember me but her writing advice and encouragement went a very long way. Finally, extra-special thanks to Susan Biskeborn, the most comforting, calming, supportive voice in the writing wilderness. Thanks, Susan, for always knowing what to say and when to say it.
To some people I really wish I could share this with but can’t: my parents, lifelong readers, and to Helen Martin, my oldest, dearest friend. I miss you, 86.
And for the three people who were there all the way: Sophie, thanks for getting the whole thing rolling by sending me that link to Curtis Brown in the first place—to say I owe you is the understatement of the year. Also thanks for your constant support and deadpan humor, your empathetic understanding of the bumpy creative process, your publishing insights, and your drop-everything readiness to ask and answer the eternal question: Cookies? Or fairies?
To Zo?, thanks for your kindness on the bad days and your joy on the good ones, also for your scary psycho typo spidey sense, for all the Ellie photos that always make me laugh, and for your highly curated meme selection, which probably belongs in a museum. Despite how much you had on your own plate, you always found time to check in and chat.
And to David, thanks doesn’t begin to cover it so I’m putting it in all caps—THANKS. For always being ready to read, for being the better cook, for engaging me in constant debate, and especially for pretending to be unalarmed when you finally discovered just how much I talk to myself during the day. Never in a million years did I imagine so much fun （not to mention the uncanny ability to count down by sevens from three hundred well into the negative numbers in under a minute） could come packaged in one human being. I love and admire you.
Finally, thanks to my dog, Friday, gone but not forgotten, and the ever-stoic 99. I apologize for every time I said to either one of you, “Just let me finish this paragraph—then we’ll go.”
About the Author
Bonnie Garmus is a copywriter and creative director who’s worked widely in the fields of technology, medicine, and education. She’s an open-water swimmer, a rower, and mother to two pretty amazing daughters. Born in California and most recently from Seattle, she currently lives in London with her husband and her dog, 99.