Dear Librarian,
The courage to write this novel came while I was getting drenched by a tropical monsoon on a jungle island off the coast of Cambodia. It was my second season on Survivor, and it had been pouring for three days. My tribemates were huddled in our bamboo shelter, moaning and crying during the worst night of their lives. My night was even worse. I became violently stomach sick. Multiple times, I had to strip off my clothes so they didn’t get soaked, leave the shelter, and walk into the tempest. Naked and drenched by the storm, I thought to myself: How can I have the tenacity to do this, but not the thing I truly care about?
That sweltering, pouring jungle was a far cry from my other formative literary experience in the cozy children’s section of the Santa Monica Public Library. There, the hardest decision wasn’t who I had to vote off the island, but how I could possibly check out only two books at a time. I remember being entranced by the names that lined each book’s checkout card—sometimes even a name I recognized from school. The thought that the same book had passed through so many hands gave it an added resonance, like I was not only reading a story, but participating in a broader community. (I’m not sure I framed it exactly that way when I was five). Now every time I move to a new city, one of the first things I do is get a library card. It’s a sign to me of belonging to a place.
Belonging is a central theme of my novel Escape! The story’s protagonist, Kent Duvall, briefly daydreams about being a librarian, one last fantasy of a stable existence before he is ripped into the topsy-turvy world of reality TV. Kent’s a has-been reality great, who goes back on a new survivalist show because real life can never measure up to the TV fantasia. There he meets seven other scheming, duplicitous, ridiculous contestants. Their goal seems simple: Flee the island. Find the treasure. However, they soon learn that the biggest challenge isn’t the obstacle courses or the venomous snakes, but the puppet masters pulling the strings.
As a reality contestant, I was in awe of the producers. These hard-working professionals can craft a story arc as well-structured as the best screenwriter. But things get complicated when your characters are real people, and sometimes the producers’ need for amazing TV drives them too far. My other main protagonist, Beck Bermann, is a reality producer reeling from a tragedy in her own life. Her attempts to use the players for her personal redemption arc prove fatal.
I set out with this novel to capture the truth of what it’s really like to be on reality television, in a way I’d never seen before. But what surprised me most was how the book took on a shape of its own, going to wilder and darker places than I expected. I hope you have fun reading this story, and are surprised by the places it takes you. Most of all, my deepest wish is that by finding its way onto your shelves, this book can be a small part of the fabric of other communities across the country.
With deep appreciation,
Stephen Fishbach
