Let’s say that you’re on the couch tearing through a great weekend book, you know, one of those novels you completely devour in two days or less, and you come upon a cute little piece of paper hiding between pages 216 and 217. It’s not colorful, fairly unassuming, and not much larger than a Polaroid picture. The top of the page reads “Erratum.” This Latin word sounds important, fancy even, but it’s really just a sneaky way of saying “We screwed up.” And not just “We screwed up,” but “We had multiple people, whose full-time paid job is to find these errors, look through this book with a fine-toothed comb, and we still let a few things get past us.” I agree, “Erratum” sounds much, much better.
I hadn’t really thought about them in years. Why would I? They’re just not the kind of things you see every day. I read all the time, far more than average, yet I find four-leaf clovers more frequently than these elusive declarations.
It wasn’t even a book that got me thinking about these.
I was reading a recent issue of Interview magazine (which unlike the rare “Erratum” has far too many inserts) in which Miranda July was asked 20 questions by 20 different people. Among these inquiring minds were It-Lit icons including Jonathan Lethem, George Saunders, Dave Eggers and Lorrie Moore to name a few. To be completely honest, most of the questions were a little too cute or ironic for my taste. I won’t say who ridiculously asked, “If you were told that you had to live inside a work of art, which would you choose?” And it wasn’t even an author that asked the most interesting question, it was harp-playing, pixie-voiced songstress Joanna Newsom. I’m paraphrasing, but her question was basically this; name one thing you don’t care about but most people do, and name one thing you do care about that most people disregard. July’s answer to part one? Alcohol. Part two? Errata. Wait a second. What? Do you mean those little lists of corrections found in books? That is exactly what she meant, and she collects them.
I can’t quite explain why, but this caught me off guard. I guess I was expecting her to say something more along the lines of Rivers Cuomo bootlegs. She could have said she collected stuffed albino chinchillas and I would have been less surprised.
Unlike most things you might collect, say unopened action figures or LPs, you can’t just go into the local resale shop or flea market to look for them. Over the past 25 years, July said she has only been able to find a dozen or so. A dozen? That is certainly not a bountiful harvest by any means. But it certainly is patient. And I love that. It might even be a little bit lazy. To build his or her collection, the collector of this niche item has to do nothing more than sit around and read. Didn’t find one? Well, maybe next time. No big deal. It was still a pretty good book, right?
If I had to put my finger on the one thing I like most about Erratum sheets, it would have to be this; it is a tangible piece of evidence that proves that famous Alexander Pope quote to be true, to err really is human. And thank goodness for that. In this world, that is increasingly becoming mistake free, it’s nice to see an honest up-front admission of human error. Not that I want people to screw up, I don’t. But when you can clear up every blemish with Photoshop, spell check every misspelling, and delete and re-post a drunken status update, it’s a breath of fresh air to hear three little words… I. Screwed. Up. But if you want to sound fancy, you can say Erratum.
[Image source: Emran Kassim]
I always have a hard time reading an entire issue of the new yorker before the next issue is released a week later. There is just too much to read and not enough time (for me at least). I guess this just means i'll be missing out on less.
I've heard that the length of a magazine is determined by advertising, but it's surprising when such a resilient publication gets hit. Hopefully, the lack of advertisers won't be a permanent problem.
The New Yorker and Wired are owned by the same publisher
I have read the NYer for years and of late it stinks…if you like literature. They love Hollywood, Wall Street and politics. That about it. Maybe a review on a book like "How Children are Raised today?…answer they are not
Their best this year was a scrib review of 2666 one paragraph and did not like it…..I think.
In the old days each issue ran 3 short stories….since that bimbo from england took over….she gone..it is one per issue and you better be one of the top dogs. So much for developing the great New Yorker stable of writers.
Ross and Shawn would puke if they saw it now.
The New Yorker is still a strong-hold for literature and long-form journalism in a business that is increasingly focused on the bottom line over quality content. The fact that a Conde Nast publication still prints short stories and thoughtful reviews by Updike, Woods, et al, should be celebrated. I too was disappointed by their snubbing of 2666, but that is just an editorial decision.
I have noticed that the issues are getting thinner and they are driving more content towards their website. If you think The New Yorker matters like some of us do, go out and get yourself a subscription!
I have noticed the same thing about the last few issues of the New York Times Book Review — thin on ads, and thin on reviews.