The Fiery Cross - Diana Gabaldon [1]
The author’s profound thanks to . . .
. . . my editor, Jackie Cantor, always the book’s champion above all.
. . . my agent, Russ Galen, who’s always on my side, with shield and lance.
. . . Stacey Sakal, Tom Leddy, and the other wonderful Production people who have sacrificed their time, talent, and mental health to the production of this book.
. . . Kathy Lord, that rarest and most delightful of creatures, an excellent copy editor.
. . . Virginia Norey, the book’s designer (aka Book Goddess), who somehow managed to fit the Whole Thing between two covers and make it look great.
. . . Irwyn Applebaum and Nita Taublib, publisher and deputy publisher, who came to the party, and brought their stuff.
. . . Rob Hunter and Rosemary Tolman, for unpublished information on the War of the Regulation and their very colorful and interesting ancestors, James Hunter and Hermon Husband. (No, I don’t make all these people up; just some of them.)
. . . Beth and Matthew Shope, and Liz Gaspar, for information on North Carolina Quaker history and beliefs. (And we do note as a matter of strict accuracy that Hermon Husband was not technically a Quaker at the time of this story, having been put out of the local Meeting for being too inflammatory.)
. . . Bev LaFlamme, Carol Krenz, and their (respectively) French and French-Canadian husbands (who no doubt wonder just what sort of friends their wives have, anyway), for expert opinions on the subtleties of French bowel movements, and help with Very Picturesque French idioms.
. . . Julie Giroux, for Roger’s music, and the marvelous “Culloden Symphony.” Roy Williamson for “The Flower of Scotland” (words and music) copyright © The Corries (music) Ltd.
. . . Roger H.P. Coleman, R.W. Odlin, Ron Parker, Ann Chapman, Dick Lodge, Olan Watkins, and many members of the Compuserve Masonic Forum for information on Freemasonry and Irregular Lodges, circa 1755 (which was a good bit prior to the establishment of the Scottish Rite, so let’s not bother writing me about that, shall we?)
. . . Karen Watson and Ron Parker, for advice on WWII London Tube Stations—with which I proceeded to take minor technical liberties.
. . . Steven Lopata, Hall Elliott, Arnold Wagner, R.G. Schmidt, and Mike Jones, honorable warriors all, for useful discussions of how men think and behave, before, during, and after battle.
. . . R.G. Schmidt and several other nice persons whose names I unfortunately forgot to write down, who contributed bits and pieces of helpful information regarding Cherokee belief, language, and custom. (The bear-hunting chant ending with “Yoho!” is a matter of historical record. There are lots of things I couldn’t make up if I tried.)
. . . the Chemodurow family, for generously allowing me to take liberties with their personae, in portraying them as Russian swineherds. (Russian boars really were imported into North Carolina for hunting in the18th century. This may have something to do with the popularity of barbecue in the South.)
. . . Laura Bailey, for invaluable advice and commentary on 18th century costume and customs—most of which I paid careful attention to.
. . . Susan Martin, Beth Shope, and Margaret Campbell, for expert opinions on the flora, fauna, geography, weather, and mental climate of North Carolina (and all of whom wish to note that only a barbarian would put tomatoes in barbecue sauce). Aberrations in these aspects of the story are a result of inadvertence, literary license, and/or pigheadedness on the part of the author.
. . . Janet McConnaughey, Varda Amir-Orrel, Kim Laird, Elise Skidmore, Bill Williams, Arlene McCrea, Lynne Sears Williams, Babs Whelton, Joyce McGowan, and the dozens of other kind and helpful people of the Compuserve Writers Forum, who will answer any silly question at the drop of a hat, especially if it has anything to do with maiming, murder, disease, quilting, or sex.
. . . Dr. Ellen Mandell, for technical advice on how to hang someone, then cut his throat, and not kill him in the process. Any errors in the execution of this advice are mine.
. . . Piper