This book could not have been written without the teachers who first introduced me to existentialism. The initial exposure came from my parents, Jim and Margaret Aho, whose bookshelves were filled with the works of Camus, Kierkegaard, Kafka, Sartre, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Rilke, and Nietzsche (though strangely, nothing from Heidegger). For them, the only thing that mattered in life was ‘being true to oneself,’ and without their encouragement and dog-eared copy of The Brothers Karamazov – which I read during winter break of my freshman year in college – I may never have changed my major to philosophy and fallen so hard for existentialism. They have followed and supported my path from the ski slopes of Utah and Wyoming to the urban canyons of Manhattan to the sub-tropical swamps and beaches of south Florida. They have also read, commented on, and edited early drafts of this book, and their sharp and incisive feedback throughout the process has been invaluable. My brothers, Ken and Kyle, have also been my teachers, showing me what genuine acts of self-creation are through their music, art, and bold adventures in the mountains.

There were also a number of influential professors in college and graduate school who exposed me to different aspects of existentialist thought, including Carl Levenson and Paul Tate at Idaho State University; Agnes Heller and Bernard Flynn at the New School for Social Research; Bernard Harrison at the University of Utah; and Stephen Turner, Ofelia Schutte, and Joanne Waugh at the University of South Florida. But of all the teachers I've had over the years, the most important and enduring has been Charles Guignon. Indeed, this book was originally conceived as a co-authored project, and many of the ideas were developed over lengthy conversations with Charles over the past decade. His intellectual guidance and friendship have been a steady presence, and this book could not have been completed without him. Of course, with that said, any scholarly and interpretive errors in the book are mine alone.

I also have to acknowledge the consistent institutional support at Florida Gulf Coast University and my warm and supportive colleagues, especially Margaret Hambrick, Glenn Whitehouse, Jim Wohlpart, Sean Kelly, Mohamad Al-Hakim, and Donna Henry. They helped to create a pluralistic and open intellectual space where I could freely pursue my own research projects and integrate them into my teaching in existentialist-themed courses like ‘The Philosophy of Death and Dying,’ ‘The Tragedy of Technology,’ ‘Existential Psychotherapy,’ and ‘Phenomenology of the Body.’ I have also been blessed with wonderful students who have taken my courses over the years, including Ashley Levy, Ellie Levy, Jonathan Wurtz, Paul Smith, Jon Morheim, Adil Mughal, Jameson Yingling, and Natalie Worebel. I am especially thankful to Adil Mughal and Diana Ruiz for helping me to compose the selected bibliography for this volume. And I am indebted to Ariel Ruiz i Altaba for his generosity in once again allowing me to use his artwork for the cover of a book. This particular image is appropriately called ‘Choices’ from a powerful collection of his entitled Traces.

The editorial staff at Polity Press has been nothing less than superb throughout the process. Sarah Lambert, Pascal Porcheron, India Darsley, and Emma Hutchinson were consummate professionals; they were consistently supportive of the project and always timely and thoughtful in their responses to any questions I had. Emma, in particular, was especially helpful as the project neared completion. Eric Schramm's detailed and rigorous copyediting saved me from a number of stylistic and technical embarrassments. And three anonymous referees for Polity offered extensive and insightful comments for revisions that sharpened the manuscript.

Finally, there is an inexpressible debt of gratitude to Elena Ruíz. In many ways, our relationship reflects the enduring cross-cultural power of existentialist thought. A Latina born and raised in Mexico City and a small-town mountain boy from Idaho came together at the University of South Florida in Tampa, and our connection flourished and deepened over late-night discussions of Nietzsche, Camus, and Kierkegaard. She, more than anyone I know, is an incarnation of what matters in existentialism, living with sense of committed passion and intensity, accepting the inescapable frailty of the human situation, and attentive to the suffering of others. This book is dedicated to her.