The Alienist - Caleb Carr [265]
The proposal was delivered; Ann studied it; Suzanne and I went to her midtown office for the fateful meeting. The high quality of the story was conceded; and then I informed Ann that I wanted to tell it in novel form. She became concerned. Why in God’s name would I make such a decision? Wasn’t there (I’d had practice, on this one) enough primary research material? Were the familial descendants not cooperating? Was—
At last, the truth had to be told, again: There was no other way to write it. Because I’d made the whole story up.
Stoically, Ann sat for several minutes; then she slammed her hand down—hard—on her desk and declared, “God damn it! Nobody’s ever fooled me!”
Well, said I nervously, didn’t that prove what an unprecedentedly plausible book the story would make?
There were a few more nervous minutes, during which I received a critical gaze appropriate to my last remark; and then, as it would so often in the future, Ann’s courage shone through, and the deal was struck. The rest was up to me.
And to my readers, to whom I will add just one last note: The initial enthusiasm and support with which this book was greeted were, of course, beyond my capacity to understand or to ever fully acknowledge. But the fact that both The Alienist and its sequel, The Angel of Darkness, have hung on—or rather, the fact that you have made them hang on—to become standards in the worlds of mystery and historical fiction is really something beyond any author’s imagining. It is the kind of reaction in the hope of which writers keep writing, and which allows them to endure (with varying levels of grace) all those ancillary demons that notoriety breeds. But the relationship between book, readers, and author should always be clear, and always be pure: For me, such has been the case from the start. That I should have occasion to write an afterword to an edition such as this is, if nothing else, testament to that fact.
C.C.
Cherry Plain, New York
April 2006
Acknowledgments
While doing the preliminary research for this book, it occurred to me that the phenomenon we now call serial killing has been with us for as long as humans have gathered together into societies. This amateur opinion was confirmed, and paths of deeper research were indicated, by Dr. David Abrahamsen, one of America’s foremost experts on violence in general and serial killing in particular. Dr. Abrahamsen passed away in 2002, leaving behind a daunting legacy of fearless and pioneering work; and as I have had no chance to properly acknowledge my debt to and affection for him, I have elected to dedicate this edition, in part, to his memory. Along with the loyalty of its readers, The Alienist ultimately owed its success to his intellectual guidance. He was truly a man who understood how to maintain the vigor of youth through the rigors of age.
The staffs of the Harvard Archives, the New York Public Library, the New-York Historical Society, the American Museum of Natural History, and the New York Society Library all lent invaluable assistance.
John Coston suggested several important avenues of research early on, and took the time to trade ideas. I am grateful.
Many authors contributed unknowingly to this story through their nonfiction accounts of serial killing and killers, and out of these many I cannot fail to offer thanks to: Colin Wilson, for his encyclopedic histories of crime; Janet Colaizzi, for her brilliant study of homicidal insanity since 1800; Harold Schechter, for his examination of the infamous Albert Fish (whose notorious note to Grace Budd’s mother inspired John Beecham’s similar document); Joel Norris, for his justly famous treatise on serial killers; Robert K. Ressler, for his memoir of a life spent chasing such characters; and again, Dr. Abrahamsen, for his unparalleled studies of David Berkowitz and Jack the Ripper.
Tim Haldeman gave