I just received author copies for my newest book, All Who Are Hungry, Come and Eat! It’s a joyful Passover story about the ever-expanding number of guests at young Ethan’s holiday table–and if you celebrate Passover, you probably know what I mean by “ever-expanding.”
Seeing a book in its finished form is always a treat, and this time was no exception. BUT . . . and this is huge . . . I found a mistake on the very last page. Aargh! I went back and checked each of the previous stages I’d looked over. All correct. Neither I nor the publisher understand how the error crept in at the last moment. More on this later.
“Everyone makes mistakes”–that’s the mantra. Decades ago, in my first months working as an editorial assistant in a children’s publishing department, I made a memorable one. I’d been tasked with sending a message from our editor-in-chief to a Japanese publisher by teletype. For those younger than I am, the teletype was a (now-obsolete) not very user-friendly machine which sent ticker tape-like messages; it came on the scene after telegrams but before faxes. Anyway, I finished the job and proudly handed the confirmation slip to my boss. Looking puzzled, she read aloud: MUTAKI IN CONTRACT. I’d presumed that Mutaki was perhaps a Japanese word, or maybe a publishing term that I, a newbie, was unfamiliar with. Nope. Just a mistaken reading of “mistake.” She had messy handwriting, okay?!! (I’ve since learned that “mutaki” is also the name of a very tasty Azerbaijani cinnamon and walnut pastry.) Luckily everyone laughed, and later, I was gifted with a MUTAKI-emblazoned coffee mug.
That error notwithstanding, through most of my years as an editor and author, I have had an ongoing side gig as a proofreader; I’m obsessive about errors. This new one is a doozy. So please: IF YOU BUY MY NEW BOOK, CORRECT THE HAROSET RECIPE ON THE LAST PAGE. The recipe should call for 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, not 4 teaspoons, which would utterly destroy your palate. Not an easy mutaki–er, mistake–to overlook.
