RTV survivors, you will always be my crew, even though I can’t throw down anymore and never will again. Ed, Akil, Patricia, Scalise, Adam B, Catherine, Emily, Josh, Dylan, Nicole, Nate, Eva, Raven, Mike G, Mace & Co. (“Wait, was it an AMPERSAND in the Character Bible? Or an ‘and’? I CAN’T publish until I know!”). You will forever be the most talented people I have ever worked with, who were simultaneously made to do the most mind-numbing bullshit at work imaginable.
Love and thanks to my oldest and closest friends: Brittany and Matt (and Huck); Frank and Audrey (and Zelda and Gus); Jacob; Jessicca and Caleb (and Olias and Apollo); Jill, Jeff, and Eleanor; Gretchen (and Adam, Juniper, and Hazel) and Liliana. Dana Lemlein, Willow Schrager, and Judy Sznyter all searched through actual photo albums to provide a richness of embarrassments from my years abroad.
Eunjae Lee, the wonderful caregiver for my daughter who had the nerve to go off to medical school, gave me four to six priceless guilt-free uninterrupted hours every week to work.
Readers of Slate, the Chronicle, and my blog, Pan Kisses Kafka, thank you for alternately puffing my head up and puncturing it down to size. And I’m forever grateful to the authors who took pity on a plaintive first-timer: Dave Barry, Pamela Druckerman, Rosecrans Baldwin, Simon Kuper, J. Ryan Stradal, and Mike Scalise.
My in-laws: Jolanta, Adam and Lauren, Lisa and Ken, and Monica and Sean (and Asher). Please do not read this book. Babcia Wanda, Grazyna, and Uncle Richie: PLEASE do not read this book. My extended family: the Schumans (read at your own risk); the Johnsons (remember that only He can judge me in the end). My nuclear family: David, Sharon, Billy Budd (yes, that’s a dog), my brother Ben (who, in accordance to disownment-threats, does not appear anywhere), Lani, Charlie (another dog), Milly, and Forthcoming Issue #2. In memoriam: Stephanie Green, Stanton Schuman, and Sam Schuman.
My husband, who listens (and listens, and listens…) and, more importantly, taught me to listen: you are the realest and best heart I know, and you passed that on to the small human who lives with us now—and then you cared for that small human while I wrote, and rewrote, this book. And, finally, my daughter, who was tormenting me from the inside when I got the idea, threatening to bust out when I got the contract, and cleaved onto my bosom, a sleeping succubus, for much of the composition.
About the Author
Rebecca Schuman is a columnist for Slate, where she frequently writes about higher education, Germany, popular culture, and parenting. She holds a Ph.D. in German from the University of California, Irvine. This is her first book. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Author’s Note
Epigraph
1. Jugendsünde
2. Sprachgefühl
3. Lebensraum
4. Schriftverkehr
5. Ostalgie
6. Wohngemeinschaft
7. Liebeskummer
8. Ereignis
9. Schadenfreude
Nachwort
