It’s a cliché, a thing writers supposedly say, or learn to say, to themselves. The imperative also implies the existence of, and need for, an editor. While assembling Issue 2 — and honing the magazine’s voice and the voices in it — we found ourselves gravitating toward tales of editing. As Francesco Pacifico notes in this issue’s essay « How Americans edit sex out of my writing »: « The editing process might be the real literature. »
So we gathered some darlings from contributors.
Who, what, and why? Imagine something called, say, the Zemblan Review of Books, or the Esperanto Review of Political Theory, or the Klingon Review of Horticulture, or the Utopian Review of Bicycles.
Or, the art of the error
What is the European Review of Books? A primer, if you are here for the first time.