I don't have much of a memory for book titles. Once I've read a review, I make a mental note to watch for the book at the library, but once I'm standing in front of the stacks of new releases, I don't recall a single title.
To help the weakening grey matter, I've subscribed to Vintage/Anchor's newsletter. That way, I can see what's new from the various offerings under the Knopf/Doubleday/Random House roof, I can read an excerpt, and I can save the e-mail newsletter. Before I go off to the library, it's a simple matter to jot down a title on a scrap of paper that I'm not likely to lose in the short period of time it takes to get to the library.
As much as I enjoy psychological fiction, I can't bring myself to try Matthew Kneale's new release. When We Were Romans is a variation on the coming of age tale, and I do enjoy that kind of quest story.
My problem lies in the excerpt that Random House supplies.
"...those aren’t real sweets their cough sweets, their bad for you..."
An editor approved that passage. An editor, who should know the difference between possessive "their" and contraction "they're" missed one, right at the beginning of Chapter 1.
Of course it could be that the final book is grammatically correct, and that some underling who typed up the excerpt got it wrong. No one's around to proof-read that sort of insignificant project. But if the underling is only typing what's given them, who let such a glaring error slide through?
Did the author miss it on the final galley? Did the author even know that it was wrong? How could a respected publishing house release copy to the public that is so dazzlingly, brilliantly wrong?
Do they assume that those who find Mr. Kneale's prose "substantial and engaging" are too illiterate to catch the flaw?
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