Deeply, to Ruth, for everything. And to your friend, also, and to Oliver.

To Annabel, for twenty years ago being the best tree-climbing and bow-and-arrow-making friend; and since then, for everything you have done for this book and beyond, and for helping me kill Venus.

To Aisha, my soulfrog, for your companionship in everything to do with writing and life.

To Karen—you took care of my dreams, nurtured and encouraged them. Thank you so much.

To Deborah, for your generosity and kindness. And, for advice and reading early drafts, Tom, Annabel, Liz, Polly, Aisha, Kalliopi, Rebecca, and Mark.

To everyone at Virago: Kim, Zoe, Ailah; and to Sarah, my editor—you have been a gift to this book; you are like an angel editor sent from editor heaven. Everyone at HarperVia: Alexa, Alicia, and Stephen; and to Tara—Lydia’s godmother if she ever had one—for your invaluable advice and support.

To my agent Sam and to everyone else at RCW, and to Michelle at CAA, for your continued support.

To Mosling, for spending time in my life, being by my side, leaving us with good fortune; the bears, every one of you.

To Mum and Dad, my best friends, for giving me life and filling it with art, food, music, love and laughter—“you’ve given me everything I need.”

And most of all to Tom, for enriching and brightening everything in my life, for listening to every word, every sentence, for helping to guide Lydia’s life, for your companionship, trust, support, and genus-hands. You’re the best human I know.

A Note on the Cover

How best to portray the story of Lydia—a woman who has mixed Japanese, Malaysian, and English heritage, and who is a vampire, a creature inherently half-demon, half-human—who is constantly trying to resist the temptation of her nature? I designed many versions of this cover; some depicted Lydia, while others focused on specific details from the story, like bite marks, or a pig whose blood she drinks in order to stave off her cravings for human blood. In the end, though, the most powerful visual was not one of Lydia herself, but of the novel’s antagonist.

Because Lydia is an artist, it felt fitting to use a painting on the cover, but it needed to be a piece that spoke to the story on multiple levels. Caravaggio’s Boy with a Basket of Fruit felt just right: the sidelong glance peering back at the viewer, the lush basket filled with food that Lydia can never eat, not to mention Caravaggio’s own less-than-pristine reputation, not dissimilar to our antagonist’s. The final touch: a perfectly-placed crack in the canvas—or is it a bite mark?

Woman, Eating is a book unlike any other I’ve ever read. As a designer, there is always a certain pressure to create something new and evocative for each project, to give each book the cover it truly deserves. That pressure is amplified even more when you love a book as much as I loved this one. I only hope I did it justice.