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Second, wherever possible, I interviewed multiple survivors from the same disaster in order to identify and resolve major discrepancies. I traveled to several countries in order to talk to as many experts and survivors in person as possible. In each case, I tried to leave the questions open-ended, so as to avoid shaping the answer. Also, in the interest of transparency and accountability, no names in this book have been changed.

Last, I tried to complement the stories of survivors with the best available research. Admittedly, serious research into human behavior in disasters is spotty. The funding has been scarce, with a few exceptions during periods of heightened anxiety. But there is some very good and careful work that has been done—particularly in aviation and in the military—and I rely heavily on this material. It helps to put the anecdotes of survivors in perspective, and it also has the benefit of being extremely interesting.

But in the end, I have to ask the reader to keep in mind that the memories of survivors, like the findings of researchers, are fallible. A book about human behavior is not exempt from the complications it describes.

Anything that is right and true in this book, on the other hand, is the product of collaboration. I am first and last grateful to the survivors who have shared the details of their darkest hours with me—and then shared them again when I returned with follow-up questions and fact-checking queries. Their patience and generosity, even in response to what I am sure were some profoundly foolish questions, have been humbling.

This book relies on the knowledge of experts, from neuroscientists to pilot instructors to police psychologists, who have altogether taken hundreds of hours of time to explain to me what they have learned in words I can understand. I am particularly grateful to Mark Gilbertson, Gordon Gallup Jr., Robyn Gershon, Ronn Langford, the Kansas City Fire Department, Susan Cutter, Dennis Mileti, Kathleen Tierney, and everyone else affiliated with the Natural Hazards Center at the University of Colorado, Boulder.

But I never would have had the time to do this book right if I had not had the blessing of Time magazine and managing editors Jim Kelly and Rick Stengel. One of the distinctions about a magazine like Time is that there are (still) people there who recognize the importance of getting to know a story through and through before you dare to tell it.

For wisdom, phone numbers, and inspiration, thank you to my colleagues and friends Michael Duffy, Ta-Nehisi Coates, John Cloud, Nancy Gibbs, Priscilla Painton, Michele Orecklin, Eric Roston, Suzy Wagner, Adam Zagorin, Romesh Ratnesar, Daniella Alpher, Lisa Beyer, Aaron Klein, Jay Carney, Amy Sullivan, and Judith Stoler. Time photo editor Katie Ellsworth was exceedingly generous in helping me find (and in one case shoot) the pictures for this book. Thank you also to Ellen Charles and Frances Symes, my brilliant and kind research assistants who made no mistakes, except leaving me to get real jobs.

My agent Esmond Harmsworth III has been an invaluable ally, counselor, and satirist in this endeavor from beginning to end. Thank you to everyone at Crown and to my editor, Rick Horgan, for “getting it” from the beginning—and for backing this book with resources, passion, and professionalism.

For reporting help, I am grateful to Jane Prendergast in Cincinnati and Sibylla Brodzinsky in Colombia. For help with editing and related magic-making, thank you to Stephen Hubbell, David Carr, Lisa Green, Becca Kornfield, my PACE book club, Mike Schaffer, Dave Ripley, Louise Ripley, Ben Ripley, and Alan Greenblatt. For advice and encouragement on every single thing, from word choice to storytelling to font to web strategy, thank you to my husband, John Funge.

Notes

INTRODUCTION: “LIFE BECOMES LIKE MOLTEN METAL”

The Halifax Explosion

See S. H. Prince, “Catastrophe and Social Change.”

Material was also drawn