I could not have written this novel without libraries and the incredible work of librarians like you.

“There are only three things in my life that have never changed: my love of the library, my love of reading, and my dream to someday be an author. . . As a librarian, I felt an intrinsic appreciation for every book that crossed my desk, and I feel honored to share mine now with this wonderful community.”

“Sometime in 1986, after completing a lengthy, emotionally exhausting novel titled You Must Remember This, the idea came to me in a flash, with a promise of adventure: writing a sequence of short, cinematic novels exploring twins, doubles, soul-mates and secret selves under a pseudonym!”

“As a library, you are the guardian and spirit-home of something absolutely precious: HUMAN ATTENTION.”

“It is librarians like you who work tirelessly to share books with a world that needs hope. Thank you for your efforts!”

“Sylvie, the main character, is formed even more deeply than she realizes by the ideas she learned from her grandparents, both of whom died when she was 13. You might even say those ideas save her. I was lucky, growing up, to have a host of adults expose me to real ideas, but I think my librarians did it most. In that way, too, they made me who I am.”

“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.”

As I prepare now to release Black-Owned, my greatest hope is that readers will find in these stories that same sense of community. My hope is we will gain a deeper understanding of just how much we need one another. Prison abolitionist and organizer Mariame Kaba often says, “Everything worthwhile is done with other people.”

“Thank you for all you do. I hope The Late-Night Witches brings you and your readers a little bit of magic, a little bit of laughter, and the reminder that we’re all stronger than we think.”

“Despite my efforts, I was wrongly convicted, and at age 24, I was sent to Angola prison to serve a sentence of life without parole. Once there, I started asking myself: What do I believe in? What purpose is my life going to serve? I found answers in the prison library.”

“Libraries are the soul of a civilization. They are paginated universes. And now, as an author, going to a library and seeing something I’ve written being held on those hallowed shelves, well, it’s the culmination of a lifelong dream.”

“Raised on saltwater and sand and the particular force of New England summer storms, it was probably inevitable that my writing would eventually return there, but after a decade of writing about 19th Century London, 21st Century Rhode Island came as a surprise (though writing modern-day billionaires doesn’t take you too far afield from robber barons of old). Either way, sometimes an idea takes hold and refuses to let you go—that’s These Summer Storms.”