When they circle back to the pier, Tova slips away and stands at the railing, alone. To the somber bay that took them both, a cherished son and an exceptional octopus, she whispers inscrutably: “I miss you. Both of you.” She taps her heart.
Then she turns and heads back to the others. They ought to get back to the condo.
Avery is coming for pie. And there’s a Scrabble game to win, after all.
Acknowledgments
My grandmother collected owls. The china cabinet on the red shag carpet in her dining room was crammed full of them. As a kid, I spent a lot of time on that carpet. I lived next door and had free rein to dart across our shared backyard and duck through the screen door into their kitchen, where there were always homemade cookies and no one stopped me from skating across the linoleum in my socks.
This was the 1980s, and these owls were old-school, not like the twee pastel birds that now decorate baby showers. My grandmother’s figurine owls had heavy eyes and sharply pointed beaks. Like real owls, they conveyed little emotion.
I never knew why she loved owls, but year after year, until she passed away, I wrapped gift boxes with owl-themed brooches and tea towels. In some ways, Tova is modeled after my Grandma Anna. Tova’s life events are fiction, but she and my Grandma Anna are both stoic Swedes. Unruffled. Endlessly kind, yet emotionally inscrutable. Apt to sink talons into a solitary branch and remain there, owl-like. As a descendant of this culture, I sometimes struggle to communicate touchy-feely things. But I’m going to try, because I am grateful to so many people for the fact that this book is in your hands.
First, an ocean-sized thanks to Helen Atsma, my amazing editor at Ecco, whose editorial vision for this story hit the mark from our very first meeting. Helen, you have a knack for pruning out the weak parts and letting the narrative shine, and I am so grateful for your guidance. Also, huge thanks to Miriam Parker, Sonya Cheuse, TJ Calhoun, Vivian Rowe, Rachel Sargent, Meghan Deans, and everyone else at Ecco for your brilliance, kindness, and patience.
Similarly, to Emma Herdman and her team at Bloomsbury UK, your enthusiasm has been so inspiring, and I feel so fortunate to be working with such an accomplished team across the pond.
A tidal wave of thanks to my agent, Kristin Nelson, who changed my life with an email in the fall of 2020. Thank you, Kristin, for having a sense of humor when, during our first video call, my four-year-old son repeatedly appeared onscreen to complain about wanting a juice box. I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to count myself as one of your clients. My gratitude extends to everyone at Nelson Literary Agency, with special thanks to Maria Heater, who reviewed my query letter, realized there was an octopus narrator, and wrote in the margin: “This is either brilliant or bananas.”
I am thrilled to have Jenny Meyer and Heidi Gall at Meyer Literary Agency on the team, handling international deals. They’ve done a spectacular job bringing this story to a global audience.
When I wrote the first draft of this book’s opening scene, years ago, it was in response to a workshop prompt about writing from an unexpected point of view. I had recently watched a YouTube video in which a captive octopus picked open a locked box with a treat inside, so that’s where my mind went, and I invented this curmudgeonly octopus who was bored and exasperated with humans. I didn’t know anything about octopuses back then, and I’m still no expert. But I’m certain they’re the most fascinating creatures on our planet.
To that octopus in the video, thank you. To octopuses generally, thank you for occasionally allowing us a glimpse into your world. I’m especially grateful to Sy Montgomery for writing the wonderful nonfiction book The Soul of an Octopus, which follows her engrossing （and heartwarming, and frequently hilarious） journey as she shadows octopus keepers at the New England Aquarium. Also, thank you to the Alaska Sealife Center and the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium for fielding my cephalopod questions, and more importantly, for the conservation and rescue work you do.
I will forever be grateful to Linda Clopton, who taught the workshop I mentioned above, and who mentored me through my earliest attempts at creative writing. She championed this story from the very first words laid on the page.
That workshop also introduced me to a handful of writers who form the basis of my main critique group, even today. To Deena Short, Jenny Ling, Brenda Lowder, Jill Cobb, and Terra Weiss, your feedback is invaluable, and seeing you all on Zoom regularly has always been a bright spot, especially during the pandemic.
To Terra especially, who puts up with my daily texts, and who always manages to carve out hours from her own hectic life for our weekly critique call. Those check-ins kept me on track to complete this book. Terra, every page of this story has your mark on it. I would never have finished it without your endless patience for talking through plot knots and your gentle reminders to keep my characters in line.