Dear Librarian,
I was a library kid. Growing up, we moved around a lot, and I while I can’t remember some of my teachers’ names, I can still vividly recall the joy of the stacks, the feeling of a dozen fresh Baby-Sitters Club or Sweet Valley High paperbacks stuffed in a plastic grocery bag, ready to be devoured like actual treats. Books were the perfect companion for the perpetual ‘new kid’ who didn’t have anyone to talk to at lunch. And at a time before the internet was in everyone’s pocket, the dial-up connection at the local library served as a portal to another, bigger world I dreamed of one day joining.
All The Other Mothers Hate Me is about being an outsider. About what it means when your dreams don’t come true, your life doesn’t turn out like everyone else’s, and you have no idea how to fix it. Sure, it’s also a satirical thriller (or as I like to say, a mystery for people who don’t read mysteries). And a snarky look at privilege, money, and class at one of West London’s swankiest private schools. But at its core, it’s about what it feels like not to fit in.
Florence, the protagonist, is nothing if not an outsider. She’s an American living in London, and a broke ex-girlband singer living amongst the 1%. She spends her days delivering elaborate balloon arrangements to the Rich Moms of Holland Park and pining for the glamorous life she almost had. And then a boy in her 10-year-old son’s class mysteriously vanishes on a school trip, and Florence takes it upon herself to investigate. Not because she particularly cares about the missing boy—she doesn’t. But because her only son, a quirky misunderstood loner, is rapidly becoming the main suspect.
It gives me tremendous joy to imagine All The Other Mothers Hate Me sitting amongst the same stacks I use to roam. I hope readers will enjoy Florence as much as I have.
With my very best wishes,
Sarah Harman
