I heard from my agent about the Darwin novel, who asked me if I might write an epilogue. One occurred to me immediately, a scene that took place twelve years after the publication of Origin. Consequently, I’m back looking at the Darwin novel, which feels like crawling into flannel sheets when the weather turns chilly in the autumn.
Einstein presents a different kind of challenge. Darwin’s family was enough like my own Victorian upbringing, that the challenge has been elsewhere. Einstein was at least verbally abusive–with other possibilities looming in the divorce documents–that is so unlike anything I’ve experienced in my own family life that I’ll have to lean on research and other writers. Mary Karr?