A morning grumble: bibliographical carelessness

I'm proofreading the NY Review of Science Fiction. On the subway, as usual. One of the articles this time is by someone who cheerfully asserts that he's not providing a complete bibliography because all that information is available on the Web, notably on the Internet Speculative Fiction Database.

All very well, but in the text of the article he dates Ursula Le Guin's The Farthest Shore to 1991. I knew that was way off, because my parents bought me the first three Earthsea books when I was about 12. But I couldn't find my copy last night. So, this morning I checked the ISFDB. Which dates it at 1991: apparently they're not interested in when things were originally published, only in an available edition. (They'll be dating it to 2004 or so, at this rate.)

Fortunately, the Library of Congress has a nice thorough online catalog. First published 1972.

But the author--who cheerfully sends his readers to the Web rather than providing bibliographical information--didn't bother to think before copying that date out of the Web site he sends everyone to. Had he thought about it, in the context of this essay, he'd have known that 1991 was much too late, even if he wasn't fortunate enough to have read the book before then.

Also, I'm proofreading this: nobody caught it at the editorial meetings. Trusting authors on points like this is easy--and I don't think anyone else associated with NYRSF is as interested in Le Guin as I am.

womzilla, you might want to double-check (and not via the ISFDB) the other dates in the article on the afterlife in sf.

A morning grumble: bibliographical carelessness

I'm proofreading the NY Review of Science Fiction. On the subway, as usual. One of the articles this time is by someone who cheerfully asserts that he's not providing a complete bibliography because all that information is available on the Web, notably on the Internet Speculative Fiction Database.

All very well, but in the text of the article he dates Ursula Le Guin's The Farthest Shore to 1991. I knew that was way off, because my parents bought me the first three Earthsea books when I was about 12. But I couldn't find my copy last night. So, this morning I checked the ISFDB. Which dates it at 1991: apparently they're not interested in when things were originally published, only in an available edition. (They'll be dating it to 2004 or so, at this rate.)

Fortunately, the Library of Congress has a nice thorough online catalog. First published 1972.

But the author--who cheerfully sends his readers to the Web rather than providing bibliographical information--didn't bother to think before copying that date out of the Web site he sends everyone to. Had he thought about it, in the context of this essay, he'd have known that 1991 was much too late, even if he wasn't fortunate enough to have read the book before then.

Also, I'm proofreading this: nobody caught it at the editorial meetings. Trusting authors on points like this is easy--and I don't think anyone else associated with NYRSF is as interested in Le Guin as I am.

womzilla, you might want to double-check (and not via the ISFDB) the other dates in the article on the afterlife in sf.

A work in progress

It was sunny at lunchtime, so I went up to Columbus Circle, to take a look at the current state of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's The Gates. As of about 20 minutes ago, the state of that is that most of the paths going into Central Park at the southwest corner have their orange frameworks, and the crew are installing them on the remaining one. When I got there, they were putting up the fourth.

So I hung out, ate my sandwich, and watched them put together and raise two or three gates. They looked practiced, as makes sense after doing however many together in the last few days.

Seeing them ready to be unfurled as the sunny February day turned cloudy, I realized something that the drawings hadn't brought home: the bright orange is just the thing for a northern winter.

A work in progress

It was sunny at lunchtime, so I went up to Columbus Circle, to take a look at the current state of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's The Gates. As of about 20 minutes ago, the state of that is that most of the paths going into Central Park at the southwest corner have their orange frameworks, and the crew are installing them on the remaining one. When I got there, they were putting up the fourth.

So I hung out, ate my sandwich, and watched them put together and raise two or three gates. They looked practiced, as makes sense after doing however many together in the last few days.

Seeing them ready to be unfurled as the sunny February day turned cloudy, I realized something that the drawings hadn't brought home: the bright orange is just the thing for a northern winter.