Th e act of writing ac know ledg ments inspires a mournful trepidation of one’s
forgetfulness that can only be resisted with somber humility. I owe an untold
debt to many individuals who go unmentioned in these ac know ledg ments. I
apologize in advance to the unnamed friends, family, and colleagues whom
I memorialize here with an imagined, prehumous tomb for heroic unknown
historians, archivists, librarians, and those too clever to pursue capturing
the past in prose.
I thank my wife, Erica Windler, who has put up with all my idées fi xes
during research and writing with patience, kindness, love, and encourage-
ment, even when I did not know exactly how to accept them. Th is project has
benefi tted from her many insights as a historian of Brazil. My son Aodhan
has taught me many lessons about the limits of authority and the power of
letting go that have shaped my thinking about the historical agents exam-
ined between these two covers. His uncomplaining, courageous, and swift
adaptation to life in Brazil and to Portuguese twice as a young boy was in-
spirational. As I let go of this book, I think of the many good experiences I
was lucky to share with both of you while this project gestated. My saudades
are mixed with forward- looking hopes for future good times, travels, meals,
body surfi ng, and shared obsessions.
I lost my former advisor and friend Robert M. Levine to brain cancer
some years ago. I like to think that he would see some of himself in what I
have written about Brazil. Elizabeth Kuznesof became my unoffi cial advisor
and friend even before Bob died. She has generously read, corrected, and
criticized various manifestations of this manuscript, and her scholarship has
informed many of my ideas. Celso Castilho also read this manuscript and
Ac know ledg ments
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