The working title of this book was “Living Backwards,” inspired by the Queen’s suggestion to Alice that memory can work more than one way. “Living Backwards,” though, sounds like a memoir that covers the scope of a lifetime. If this were a memoir or an autobiography, it would be woefully incomplete. I am both far luckier than these essays would imply if they were read as a map of my life, and I have experienced more trauma than I have given chapters to.
