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My Mistake
A wry, witty, often tender memoir by a former New Yorker editor, magazine writer, and book publisher who offers great tales of a life in words Daniel Menaker started as a fact checker at The New Yorker in 1969. With luck, hard work, and the support of William Maxwell, he was eventually promoted to editor. Never beloved by William Shawn, he was advised early on to find a position elsewhere; he stayed for another twenty-four years.Now Menaker brings us a new view of life in that wonderfully strange place and beyond, throughout his more than forty years working to celebrate language and good writing.He tells us his own story, too—with irrepressible style and honesty—of a life spent persevering through often difficult, nearly always difficult-to-read, situations. Haunted by a self-doubt sharpened by his role in his brother’s unexpected death, he offers wry, hilarious observations on publishing, child-rearing, parent-losing, and the writing life. But as time goes by, we witness something far beyond the a moving, thoughtful meditation on years well lived, well read, and well spent. Full of mistakes, perhaps. But full of effort, full of accomplishment, full of life.
234 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2013
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989 people want to read
About the author
Daniel Menaker
21 books16 followersDANIEL MENAKER began his career as a fact checker at The New Yorker, where he became an editor and worked for twenty-six years. A former book editor, Menaker is the author of six books; he has written for the New York Times, the Atlantic, Parents, Redbook, and many others.
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October 31, 2013Memoirs in the US tend to be of three flavors nowadays. There is this flavor: I'm a self-destructive member of the hoi polloi; I've been a (take your pick) addict, criminal, abuser of a sibling/spouse/parent, but I have overcome my flaws; come read about my pain and recovery. There is this flavor: I've been horribly treated as a (take your pick) child of war, victim of child abuse, child of poverty, adult abused by someone I loved, employee of a bad company, citizen of a bad government, but I’ve beaten the odds; come read about my pain and recovery/victory. Finally there is this flavor: I'm a famous person who has lived a big life; come hear my big story (as told to someone who is a professional writer). Sometimes these flavors are put in one tub, a la Neapolitan ice cream. But they all have the same aim: tell a gripping story. Most tend to be soap operas and as you can tell by my arch tone, I tend to not like any of them because even the best also tend to be idea poor. Besides if I read a gripping narrative in memoir form, I know that the writer (ghost or otherwise) is fudging and if they are fudging why shouldn't I just read something that fully admits to being made up (i.e., a novel)?
This (finally) leads to my review of Dan Menaker's book (sorry for all that stuff above; I hope it was amusing). My Mistake follows none of the rules of contemporary memoirs. Mr. Menaker isn't self destructive. No horrible things have happened to him. He isn't famous. Menaker doesn't follow the lead of iconic memoirs like The Education of Henry Adams, either, and create grand ideas to organize the world around him. This is an entirely different kind of memoir, something rare today: an intelligent, well-written, examination of a life well lived. My Mistake is a quiet, carefully constructed book about a literary man in the literary world of 20th (and a bit of 21st) century New York. There is no chest beating. There is a small amount of name dropping, but it actually serves a purpose. My Mistake is mostly about the value of intelligence, persistence, heart, and good listening skills in living life well and happily. If you want to know about how an editor - Mr. Menaker was both the fiction editor at The New Yorker and chief editor at Random House - works and lives in the madhouse that is New York publishing, you'll find much to enjoy here. It's not a gripping narrative because it’s probably 100% true. It's, instead, a story about a real life told with tenderness and humor.
I note that Dan is a friend and mentor. I also note that the only other time I wrote a review of a friend's book on Goodreads people might have thought, "Well, he's a friend of Stu, so who knows if this book is actually good." That book went on to win the Pulitzer.
This (finally) leads to my review of Dan Menaker's book (sorry for all that stuff above; I hope it was amusing). My Mistake follows none of the rules of contemporary memoirs. Mr. Menaker isn't self destructive. No horrible things have happened to him. He isn't famous. Menaker doesn't follow the lead of iconic memoirs like The Education of Henry Adams, either, and create grand ideas to organize the world around him. This is an entirely different kind of memoir, something rare today: an intelligent, well-written, examination of a life well lived. My Mistake is a quiet, carefully constructed book about a literary man in the literary world of 20th (and a bit of 21st) century New York. There is no chest beating. There is a small amount of name dropping, but it actually serves a purpose. My Mistake is mostly about the value of intelligence, persistence, heart, and good listening skills in living life well and happily. If you want to know about how an editor - Mr. Menaker was both the fiction editor at The New Yorker and chief editor at Random House - works and lives in the madhouse that is New York publishing, you'll find much to enjoy here. It's not a gripping narrative because it’s probably 100% true. It's, instead, a story about a real life told with tenderness and humor.
I note that Dan is a friend and mentor. I also note that the only other time I wrote a review of a friend's book on Goodreads people might have thought, "Well, he's a friend of Stu, so who knows if this book is actually good." That book went on to win the Pulitzer.
June 3, 2016
I never tire of reading books about the experience of working at The New Yorker during its golden hey-day. I especially enjoy anecdotes about the notoriously fussy and famous New Yorker editor William Shawn and this book has plenty of those, plus many sweet stories about working with the esteemed novelist and beloved New Yorker fiction editor, William Maxwell.
Daniel Menaker worked at The New Yorker for twenty-six years, first as a fact checker and then as an editor and edited many famous writers, but the bulk of this book concentrates on his struggle to impress William Shawn (not that many people ever did), honing his own writing skills, and the development of the mentor relationship he had with William Maxwell who became an almost father figure to him. After his many years at The New Yorker, Menaker moved on to Random House as a senior literary editor and he recounts his time there, but that experience was less interesting to me and doesn't have nearly as many funny stories which is probably because, well, no William Shawn.
If you enjoy witty writing about the goings-on at The New Yorker and about writing and publishing in general, you will enjoy this book.
Daniel Menaker worked at The New Yorker for twenty-six years, first as a fact checker and then as an editor and edited many famous writers, but the bulk of this book concentrates on his struggle to impress William Shawn (not that many people ever did), honing his own writing skills, and the development of the mentor relationship he had with William Maxwell who became an almost father figure to him. After his many years at The New Yorker, Menaker moved on to Random House as a senior literary editor and he recounts his time there, but that experience was less interesting to me and doesn't have nearly as many funny stories which is probably because, well, no William Shawn.
If you enjoy witty writing about the goings-on at The New Yorker and about writing and publishing in general, you will enjoy this book.
June 11, 2016
Meh. I am not sure how this got on my to-reads, but I really wasn't enamored (I've also had a crazy busy week otherwise and took way too long to read it. As far as memoirs go, Menaker is not really all that interesting. I mean, I love literature and I followed most of his name drops (and I understand why The New Yorker is important), but there was no real story here.
He doesn't get personal EVER (I mean his wife is mentioned may 4 times in the whole book and his kids in passing), which would be okay if his work life was interesting. But it wasn't; not really. It was more of a laundry list of who he worked with and some stories about publishing politics. The most personal piece is the telling of the details surrounding his brother's death and Menaker's frequent comments about his psychoanalysis and the childhood insecurities and illness that have made him a less than perfect adult. Despite several drops about interesting parallel characters (FBI and his dad?), there is really no detail about ANYTHING other than his time at the New Yorker.
I felt like Menaker wanted the reader to make a comparison to Julian Barnes, but that comparison makes Menaker look so poor that I can't possibly imagine that Menaker would truly want me to do that. Instead, I felt like I was stuck in a hospital room with my dying uncle and he was telling me the details of his work life.
He doesn't get personal EVER (I mean his wife is mentioned may 4 times in the whole book and his kids in passing), which would be okay if his work life was interesting. But it wasn't; not really. It was more of a laundry list of who he worked with and some stories about publishing politics. The most personal piece is the telling of the details surrounding his brother's death and Menaker's frequent comments about his psychoanalysis and the childhood insecurities and illness that have made him a less than perfect adult. Despite several drops about interesting parallel characters (FBI and his dad?), there is really no detail about ANYTHING other than his time at the New Yorker.
I felt like Menaker wanted the reader to make a comparison to Julian Barnes, but that comparison makes Menaker look so poor that I can't possibly imagine that Menaker would truly want me to do that. Instead, I felt like I was stuck in a hospital room with my dying uncle and he was telling me the details of his work life.
January 25, 2014
I adored this thin, rich volume by the former New Yorker editor. Daniel Menaker is captain of his own iceberg, understanding that our conscious navigation of life usually amounts to an after-the-fact process of trying to make sense of where we just drifted. As an editor he was (and still is) near the epicenter of several cultural earthquakes, and the people he loves, you will fall in love with as well: The mentor, William Maxwell; the scribe, Alice Munro. This is memoir not autobiography, and thus lacks a comprehensiveness which can be a little maddening when one considers the many, many stories and people he must have left out. He survived his recent bout with cancer, and it's my hope that a companion piece soon will follow.
February 12, 2015
Nearly everything you read, fiction, memoir, whatever, is full of small lies about the way people behave and the way the world works. There isn't a dishonest sentence in this book, which is the highest praise I can think of. Also missing: cant phrases, cliches, windiness, self-aggrandizement, bulk. The book combines brave and juicy truth-telling about the New Yorker and the publishing industry (the part about putting together a P&L made me wince in its accuracy) with personal history, and the two never quite cohere, but I loved both. There's more useful advice here on coping with the death than you could find in a whole row of self-help books—plus equally wise counsel on writing (don't indicate!), editing, and not being a difficult coworker.
October 24, 2017
This is a fascinating book for anyone interested in the writing world. Dan Menaker worked at the New Yorker for 26 years, then went on to Random House. It has some funny moments. It certainly isn't as high drama as many memoirs out there, but as a writer, I really enjoyed the behind-the-scenes description of the publishing world. I only gave it 4 stars because I think it might not hold the interest of someone not as interested in the writing industry, but they are four good stars because it is well written, and moves along at a good pace. I listened to the book on audible, and Menaker's narration is mellifluous and easy on the ears without putting me to sleep.
December 1, 2013
Daniel Menaker reveals the literary scene with all its complexity and backbiting appeal in his memoir MY MISTAKE. He introduces us to an environment that writers long for and find so difficult to crack. It’s a witty, intricate journey filled with Menaker’s puckish outlook and steely insight.
Make no mistake. Menaker is a proud, unapologetic insider, but he is willing to share his insight about the guts of the industry while pointing out the indomitable hurdles to getting published. I was flabbergasted at his description of the gyrations inside a publishing house to determine the financial structure necessary to purchase a book. The discussions on profit and loss, advance, payout, paperback and hardback price, print quantity, return policy, size, cover, printing and binding are endless. And, because the actual success of any book is a shot in the dark, there is no science behind the figures being tossed around. The money needed to launch a book amounts to five and six figure guesses.
Menaker seems to relish the complexities and battles behind the publishing house doors. At the same time, he has a rebellious streak, tending towards ruffling the sheets and administering indignities whenever he thinks his editing skills are being dissed or his opinions are being ignored. Through the years, however, his behavior has mellowed due to health problems and better acceptance of his life’s circumstances.
The scope of the memoir is amazing. Menaker reveals in detail his mischievous youth, his distress at being the possible cause of his brother’s death, his circuitous and unsettled path through the publishing world, including dust-ups with fellow employees, his supervisors, and client writers. The writing is superb: The book is an in-person demonstration of the skills he possesses and expects of others. He artfully blends tenderness, sagacity, and witticism in his reflections.
Menaker started as a fact checker in 1969 at "The New Yorker," that phlegmatic old barge anchored in the literary ocean of Manhattan. As a young reader I always imagined that it was populated with stodgy editors who spent their days snuffling about readers and their ability to understand the magazine’s publishing philosophy. I always thought the cartoons were fantastic and enjoyed them, the writing not so much. But Menaker thrived in that atmosphere for twenty six years; always, it seemed, on the edge of being fired.
He admires readers and believes good readers have an “intuitive grasp of the meaning and feeling” of what they read. I believe he has demonstrated that in his book and that you, as a good reader, will enjoy it immensely.
Make no mistake. Menaker is a proud, unapologetic insider, but he is willing to share his insight about the guts of the industry while pointing out the indomitable hurdles to getting published. I was flabbergasted at his description of the gyrations inside a publishing house to determine the financial structure necessary to purchase a book. The discussions on profit and loss, advance, payout, paperback and hardback price, print quantity, return policy, size, cover, printing and binding are endless. And, because the actual success of any book is a shot in the dark, there is no science behind the figures being tossed around. The money needed to launch a book amounts to five and six figure guesses.
Menaker seems to relish the complexities and battles behind the publishing house doors. At the same time, he has a rebellious streak, tending towards ruffling the sheets and administering indignities whenever he thinks his editing skills are being dissed or his opinions are being ignored. Through the years, however, his behavior has mellowed due to health problems and better acceptance of his life’s circumstances.
The scope of the memoir is amazing. Menaker reveals in detail his mischievous youth, his distress at being the possible cause of his brother’s death, his circuitous and unsettled path through the publishing world, including dust-ups with fellow employees, his supervisors, and client writers. The writing is superb: The book is an in-person demonstration of the skills he possesses and expects of others. He artfully blends tenderness, sagacity, and witticism in his reflections.
Menaker started as a fact checker in 1969 at "The New Yorker," that phlegmatic old barge anchored in the literary ocean of Manhattan. As a young reader I always imagined that it was populated with stodgy editors who spent their days snuffling about readers and their ability to understand the magazine’s publishing philosophy. I always thought the cartoons were fantastic and enjoyed them, the writing not so much. But Menaker thrived in that atmosphere for twenty six years; always, it seemed, on the edge of being fired.
He admires readers and believes good readers have an “intuitive grasp of the meaning and feeling” of what they read. I believe he has demonstrated that in his book and that you, as a good reader, will enjoy it immensely.
January 1, 2014
The ways of publishing are somewhat shrouded with mystery. How does the magazine staff of The New Yorker put together their publication every week? You will gain some insights reading MY MISTAKE.
I loved the pointed storytelling about how the inside of a magazine works and I enjoyed Daniel Menaker's stories about the publishing world and his life of commitment to the power of the printed page. I found some of the early chapters somewhat boring so I rated the book four stars instead of five.
Yet this book is a worthwhile read for anyone related to publishing or interested in publishing. I recommend it.
I loved the pointed storytelling about how the inside of a magazine works and I enjoyed Daniel Menaker's stories about the publishing world and his life of commitment to the power of the printed page. I found some of the early chapters somewhat boring so I rated the book four stars instead of five.
Yet this book is a worthwhile read for anyone related to publishing or interested in publishing. I recommend it.
March 2, 2019
[Disclosure: I haven't met Dan Menaker in person but we worked together for six months or so on a project (inexplicably left out of the book) that was based in NYC where he was, and into which I “telecommuted” from Chicago where I live. We have corresponded warmly by email from time to time since then and I think he’s a nice man.]
This is an entertaining, serious, and well-written book. Reading it, one feels that it is honest.
It's startling how many serious topics — childhood abandonment; the death of a worshiped older brother, with self-recriminations to boot; working in the booby-hatch evidently that was The New Yorker under three different editors; a brush with death in the form of lung cancer — are related with such élan, humor, and without a trace of slickness.
And yet . . . . At the risk not only of using an adjective (and in the service of a cliché, to top it off) there is a vein of deep sadness that runs through this book.
It’s my understanding that everyone still wants to work at The New Yorker (it’s changed completely from his time there, according to Menaker), but his own description of his years there has a bleak melancholy to it — enlivened as his career there was with numerous professional successes and a life-changing mentorship with the great writer and editor William Maxwell. Whether William Shawn was a sadist in general is unknown. But surely he treated Menaker with an undisguised and wounding malevolence. (So why did Menaker stay? Read the book.)
Menaker’s highly informed description of the book publishing industry is grim reading, indeed, and should be skipped over by any writer, or aspiring writer. Seriously. Just keep writing!
After finishing the book I can detect only two "mistakes" that Menaker has made in the life he reveals to us here: the first was not going out to dinner (when invited by her!) with Emmylou Harris when both were in their early 30s (BONEHEAD MOVE, Menaker. Did you need her to draw you a map?).
The second was somehow, unaccountably, coming (temporarily, it must hoped) under the sway of that Linguistics Snake Oil Salesman Steven Pinker and allowing himself to doubt the concept of Free Will — because he missed a fly ball at a New Yorker softball game! Menaker — a High Honors graduate of Swarthmore with an MA from Johns Hopkins - is simply too smart to go in for that kind of intellectual sideshow barkerism. (OK, that’s a cheap shot. Pinker's position is more firmly and thoughtfully grounded than that -- if still tragically misguided and wrong)
What emerges from these page (another cliché!) is a portrait of a sensitive, decent, damaged (no more, no less than most) man trying to reconcile his youthful idealism with the gritty realities of the rather brutal business (and, in the case of The New Yorker, workplace) he chose for himself.
Earlier in the book, Menaker admiringly describes the unselfconscious straightforwardness of one of his many “fathers” — Carl Andrews, one of the storied Headmasters of The Collegiate School in NYC, and Menaker’s boss when he taught there as a young man fresh out of graduate school.
If Andrews were alive to read My Mistake I believe he would be proud of his [young] protégée.
This is an entertaining, serious, and well-written book. Reading it, one feels that it is honest.
It's startling how many serious topics — childhood abandonment; the death of a worshiped older brother, with self-recriminations to boot; working in the booby-hatch evidently that was The New Yorker under three different editors; a brush with death in the form of lung cancer — are related with such élan, humor, and without a trace of slickness.
And yet . . . . At the risk not only of using an adjective (and in the service of a cliché, to top it off) there is a vein of deep sadness that runs through this book.
It’s my understanding that everyone still wants to work at The New Yorker (it’s changed completely from his time there, according to Menaker), but his own description of his years there has a bleak melancholy to it — enlivened as his career there was with numerous professional successes and a life-changing mentorship with the great writer and editor William Maxwell. Whether William Shawn was a sadist in general is unknown. But surely he treated Menaker with an undisguised and wounding malevolence. (So why did Menaker stay? Read the book.)
Menaker’s highly informed description of the book publishing industry is grim reading, indeed, and should be skipped over by any writer, or aspiring writer. Seriously. Just keep writing!
After finishing the book I can detect only two "mistakes" that Menaker has made in the life he reveals to us here: the first was not going out to dinner (when invited by her!) with Emmylou Harris when both were in their early 30s (BONEHEAD MOVE, Menaker. Did you need her to draw you a map?).
The second was somehow, unaccountably, coming (temporarily, it must hoped) under the sway of that Linguistics Snake Oil Salesman Steven Pinker and allowing himself to doubt the concept of Free Will — because he missed a fly ball at a New Yorker softball game! Menaker — a High Honors graduate of Swarthmore with an MA from Johns Hopkins - is simply too smart to go in for that kind of intellectual sideshow barkerism. (OK, that’s a cheap shot. Pinker's position is more firmly and thoughtfully grounded than that -- if still tragically misguided and wrong)
What emerges from these page (another cliché!) is a portrait of a sensitive, decent, damaged (no more, no less than most) man trying to reconcile his youthful idealism with the gritty realities of the rather brutal business (and, in the case of The New Yorker, workplace) he chose for himself.
Earlier in the book, Menaker admiringly describes the unselfconscious straightforwardness of one of his many “fathers” — Carl Andrews, one of the storied Headmasters of The Collegiate School in NYC, and Menaker’s boss when he taught there as a young man fresh out of graduate school.
If Andrews were alive to read My Mistake I believe he would be proud of his [young] protégée.
October 26, 2013
“My Mistake” by Daniel Menaker is an interesting book. It destroyed any illusions I had about ever having my fiction published. That was probably the last dream I had left, and Mr. Menaker took care of that. While I have often noticed that the new stars in Hollywood are often related to the old stars in Hollywood, I surely should have assumed that such connectivity applied also to the publishing world of New York. That I did not was my mistake.
Daniel Menaker was born into the erudite and exclusive world of publishing and landed a position checking facts for the New Yorker, a magazine I once adored. He did not try to hide the fact that family connections helped him get there. His elitist Swarthmore (et al) education helped him along as well, a fact that he doesn’t hesitate to remind the reader of every few pages. He went up ladders and jumped from one ladder to another painlessly in that world that so few get to know. Even fewer get to know it with the name-dropping intimacy Daniel Menaker enjoyed.
If this review reeks of crass envy, so be it. Of course any aspiring writer would be envious of Mr. Menaker’s life in writing. He tells of a world that none of us ordinary mortals will know. And, he makes it pretty daggone unattractive.
If you enjoy reading about how the other half lives, you will adore this book. I found the fact that it is history written in the present tense a little tedious, although I enjoyed the subject matter. In my opinion, the past is past and using the present tense doesn’t put me in the moment, it simply sets my teeth on edge. However it is certainly correct in the literary sense, or Mr. Menaker would never have chosen this particular form to tell his story. I didn’t like the book, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t like it. Read it yourself and decide.
Daniel Menaker was born into the erudite and exclusive world of publishing and landed a position checking facts for the New Yorker, a magazine I once adored. He did not try to hide the fact that family connections helped him get there. His elitist Swarthmore (et al) education helped him along as well, a fact that he doesn’t hesitate to remind the reader of every few pages. He went up ladders and jumped from one ladder to another painlessly in that world that so few get to know. Even fewer get to know it with the name-dropping intimacy Daniel Menaker enjoyed.
If this review reeks of crass envy, so be it. Of course any aspiring writer would be envious of Mr. Menaker’s life in writing. He tells of a world that none of us ordinary mortals will know. And, he makes it pretty daggone unattractive.
If you enjoy reading about how the other half lives, you will adore this book. I found the fact that it is history written in the present tense a little tedious, although I enjoyed the subject matter. In my opinion, the past is past and using the present tense doesn’t put me in the moment, it simply sets my teeth on edge. However it is certainly correct in the literary sense, or Mr. Menaker would never have chosen this particular form to tell his story. I didn’t like the book, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t like it. Read it yourself and decide.
March 7, 2014
A Christmas gift from my daughter, she could hardly have found a more precisely delightful memoir. Years with the New Yorker, then Random House, then HarperCollins. All the gossip, the vagaries of publishing in New York. And his home life. Broken into years of his life, we get elementary school and the death of his brother, the flavor of homelife and extended family. And because his writing is so clear, casual, unaffected--the range of emotional response is immediate. Laugh out loud, oh yes, the stories of Wallace Shawn's father (editor of the New Yorker while Menaker was there) are amazing. Names dropped throughout, but never to set himself up, these stories are simply his life. And happily, Daniel Menaker is still alive. That makes me happy.
February 13, 2015
First, the ideal reader must be a fan of the New Yorker. Second, he or she must be a fan of memoirs. Menaker's New Yorker anecdotes are fresh and entertaining. He weaves his own climb through the publishing houses and back to the New Yorker with readable prose. Menaker is connected as an insider and he shares memories of working with such luminaries as William Maxwell and Alice Munro. For those interested in publishing--past and present--this book will be gobbled up.
April 3, 2014
My Mistake. Was in not reading Daniel Menaker's My Mistake until today. Sat down at 10 in the morning to start it, just read the last beautiful page. I am worried about what punctuation to use, and know he will deride my grammar, but the book is just delicious.
January 1, 2021
A fantastic memoir by a writer who also worked at the New Yorker and in publishing for many years. It’s thoughtful, funny, smart, and full of interesting stories. I flagged many pages for memorable lines. Loved it!
March 22, 2017
I've been on a bit of a jag of reading books culled from or about the workings of "The New Yorker" lately, and Daniel Menaker's "My Mistake" is a wonderful addition to the genre. Written in a wryly witty voice that exemplifies why Menaker was able to work his way up at the magazine from fact checker to fiction editor (as well as publish several of his own pieces within it), the book is a pleasure to read--often a laugh-out-loud one, particularly in the passages concerning the prudish Mr. Shawn, who Menaker does not lionize like many other "New Yorker" magazine alums do, and the (regrettably all too brief) references to one of his successors, Tina Brown. I particularly liked the relationship between Menaker and his mentor at the magazine, William Maxwell--my next "New Yorker" related book will be "The Happiness of Getting It Down Right," the collected correspondence of Maxwell and writer Frank O'Connor. The glimpse I got of Maxwell in this book, though lovely, was just not enough.
August 5, 2017
Got off to a slow start, but Menaker was laying the foundation for the rest of his life (i.e., the rest of the book). Just kept getting better!
August 30, 2014
This is an enjoyable memoir by a man who had a successful career as an editor at the New Yorker magazine and then as a book publisher. It offers a compelling window on a subculture - social and regional - that has set a guiding tone for American intellectuals for decades. That said, it really is a memoir - the broader feel for Menaker's time and place have to be drawn from his account; he's not trying to provide a guided tour.
Part of the appeal of the book is its humility - not that Menaker himself comes across as a humble man, but he also openly judges his earlier selves and finds aspects of them wanting. It may seem odd to think of a book as humble when the author is fiercely competitive and, by his own depiction, emotionally sensitive. But two of the running themes of the memoir are the author's growing patience and restraint, and both have been deployed here. Menaker clearly takes pride in his years of hard work, writing, editing, and managing relationships, but his pride isn't unseemly, and he doesn't give it much space.
The book splits in tone into three sections - youth and time at the New Yorker; time in publishing; and present battle with cancer. The first was the longest and most compelling - not sure whether that's because the writing was most objective, or that it just seemed that way because Menaker has had so many years to order and refine his memories into a fluid narrative (and he's the first to admit that this process is a natural part of writing a memoir). The middle section, on the publishing industry, is fascinating, but somewhat less personal. The last section, running up through the time of publication, has a rougher heart - the writing is polished, but it feels like Menaker is still figuring out what he thinks and feels about recent events, including the experience of writing this memoir.
Part of the appeal of the book is its humility - not that Menaker himself comes across as a humble man, but he also openly judges his earlier selves and finds aspects of them wanting. It may seem odd to think of a book as humble when the author is fiercely competitive and, by his own depiction, emotionally sensitive. But two of the running themes of the memoir are the author's growing patience and restraint, and both have been deployed here. Menaker clearly takes pride in his years of hard work, writing, editing, and managing relationships, but his pride isn't unseemly, and he doesn't give it much space.
The book splits in tone into three sections - youth and time at the New Yorker; time in publishing; and present battle with cancer. The first was the longest and most compelling - not sure whether that's because the writing was most objective, or that it just seemed that way because Menaker has had so many years to order and refine his memories into a fluid narrative (and he's the first to admit that this process is a natural part of writing a memoir). The middle section, on the publishing industry, is fascinating, but somewhat less personal. The last section, running up through the time of publication, has a rougher heart - the writing is polished, but it feels like Menaker is still figuring out what he thinks and feels about recent events, including the experience of writing this memoir.
November 2, 2015
What a title for a memoir. Dan Menaker is in great company in framing his life around his “mistakes,” but I didn’t realize it until he used the word “errata” in one of the early chapters. That open reference to the conceit—and the nod to The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin—adds a more complex layer of ironic self-deprecation. It’s hard not to recognize the trick of adopting exaggerated humility in a thinly veiled effort to cast successes in all the more flattering light, as Franklin did. But in borrowing the device so openly, the conceit goes from projecting humility to craftiness to a kind of self-effacing cleverness.
That level of literary layering comes as no surprise when you consider Menaker’s background. From fiction editor at The New Yorker to Executive Editor-in-Chief of Random House, Menaker is about as pedigreed a literary personage as you can find. Amazingly, he still manages to present himself as an outsider, though generally in pretty minor ways—at one point he says “Hi” to Mr. Shawn, the New Yorker’s longtime (and notoriously proper) editor, instead of the expected “Hello.” But Menaker has much to be proud of, and his successes stand out much more than his failures. Nothing shines so much as his love of the written word, though. Whether it’s a bitingly witty account of the personalities that comprise the publishing world or an emotionally riveting contemplation of his brother’s death or his own cancer diagnosis—reflections on mistakes or successes—Menaker’s lovingly crafted prose glimmers through.
That level of literary layering comes as no surprise when you consider Menaker’s background. From fiction editor at The New Yorker to Executive Editor-in-Chief of Random House, Menaker is about as pedigreed a literary personage as you can find. Amazingly, he still manages to present himself as an outsider, though generally in pretty minor ways—at one point he says “Hi” to Mr. Shawn, the New Yorker’s longtime (and notoriously proper) editor, instead of the expected “Hello.” But Menaker has much to be proud of, and his successes stand out much more than his failures. Nothing shines so much as his love of the written word, though. Whether it’s a bitingly witty account of the personalities that comprise the publishing world or an emotionally riveting contemplation of his brother’s death or his own cancer diagnosis—reflections on mistakes or successes—Menaker’s lovingly crafted prose glimmers through.
April 1, 2015
Who knew the publishing industry was so crazy? It's a wonder any books ever get published at all! That said, Mr. Menaker not only writes here about the life of an editor, but about life in general and what he has to say resonates with the honesty in everyone. I love what he says on page 201 about mourners missing their dead; he paints the subject in perfect color and contrast:
"The world, with all its impossible variegation and the basic miracle of its existence, draws most mourners out of their grief and back into itself. The homosexual forsythia blooms(he refers to an earlier incident here); the young Irish dancers in Killarney dance, their arms as rigid as shovel handles; secret deals are done involving weapons or office space or crude oil or used cars or drugs; new lovers, believing they will never really have to get up, lie down together; the Large Hadron Collider smashes the Higgs boson into view; snow drapes its white stoles on the bare limbs of winter; the crack of the bat swung by a hefty Dominican pulls a crowd to its feet in Boston; bricks for the new hospital in Phnom Penh are laid in true courses; the single-engine Cessna lands safely in an Ohio alfalfa field during a storm. How can you resist? The true loss in only to the dying, and even they won't feel it when the dying's done."
Like Frost said, "Life: it goes on . . ."
You've had a pretty lucky and interesting one, Mr. Menaker. Thanks for sharing.
"The world, with all its impossible variegation and the basic miracle of its existence, draws most mourners out of their grief and back into itself. The homosexual forsythia blooms(he refers to an earlier incident here); the young Irish dancers in Killarney dance, their arms as rigid as shovel handles; secret deals are done involving weapons or office space or crude oil or used cars or drugs; new lovers, believing they will never really have to get up, lie down together; the Large Hadron Collider smashes the Higgs boson into view; snow drapes its white stoles on the bare limbs of winter; the crack of the bat swung by a hefty Dominican pulls a crowd to its feet in Boston; bricks for the new hospital in Phnom Penh are laid in true courses; the single-engine Cessna lands safely in an Ohio alfalfa field during a storm. How can you resist? The true loss in only to the dying, and even they won't feel it when the dying's done."
Like Frost said, "Life: it goes on . . ."
You've had a pretty lucky and interesting one, Mr. Menaker. Thanks for sharing.
June 15, 2014
Fluid writing and a some great stories. However, there may have been too many stories, and, in a thin volume, they became too cursory.
While the underlying them may have been Mr. Menaker's coming to grips with his brother's death many years previously, it surfaced off and on through the book, diluting its meaning.
The descriptions of the cast of characters at the New Yorker Magazine and of his 26 years there (as editor, writer, fiction editor) were wonderful. I've read other books about the magazine (most notably, "Here at the New Yorker," by Brendan Gill) and have been a long-time subscriber and enjoyed that section quite a bit (which was the primary reason I picked up the book). Mr. Menaker's work at Random House was equally fascinating. In both episodes, the writing is terrific. His humor is sharp and clever, his character pieces revealing.
I felt rushed through in the book, by the cramming in of so much material as well as its organization: the flow of the book was broken up by his age milestones. And that gave the book a summary feel.
One final note: it's ironic that in a book by a writer/editor that is partially about writing and editing, there were several egregious typos/editing lapses.
While the underlying them may have been Mr. Menaker's coming to grips with his brother's death many years previously, it surfaced off and on through the book, diluting its meaning.
The descriptions of the cast of characters at the New Yorker Magazine and of his 26 years there (as editor, writer, fiction editor) were wonderful. I've read other books about the magazine (most notably, "Here at the New Yorker," by Brendan Gill) and have been a long-time subscriber and enjoyed that section quite a bit (which was the primary reason I picked up the book). Mr. Menaker's work at Random House was equally fascinating. In both episodes, the writing is terrific. His humor is sharp and clever, his character pieces revealing.
I felt rushed through in the book, by the cramming in of so much material as well as its organization: the flow of the book was broken up by his age milestones. And that gave the book a summary feel.
One final note: it's ironic that in a book by a writer/editor that is partially about writing and editing, there were several egregious typos/editing lapses.
October 31, 2014
I actually read Menaker's "The Old Left" way back when it was published (one of the few, I assume), and so this memoir interested me.
In his 70's and battling lung cancer, he decides to tell bits and pieces of the story of his life. And what a life in publishing it has been! My favorite parts were his tales of under appreciated writer (and his boss at the NY'er as Fiction Editor) William Maxwell. If you haven't read him yet, you should - especially if you are from the Midwest. The other part I enjoyed was the few pages where he quickly outlines the financial side of how they decide if a book should be published or not.
Menaker is aware of this already, but he always seems to bend over backwards in order to see the good as well as the bad in a person. For all of his disdain for Tina Brown, he is still sympathetic to her situation.
The bad part is the last chapter seems to be made up mostly of lists - the worst being page upon page of the titles of authors' names on archived boxes of NY'er material at the NYPL. A short example would have done just as well.
But, if you are interested in the NY'er and publishing, this is an overall enjoyable, quick read.
In his 70's and battling lung cancer, he decides to tell bits and pieces of the story of his life. And what a life in publishing it has been! My favorite parts were his tales of under appreciated writer (and his boss at the NY'er as Fiction Editor) William Maxwell. If you haven't read him yet, you should - especially if you are from the Midwest. The other part I enjoyed was the few pages where he quickly outlines the financial side of how they decide if a book should be published or not.
Menaker is aware of this already, but he always seems to bend over backwards in order to see the good as well as the bad in a person. For all of his disdain for Tina Brown, he is still sympathetic to her situation.
The bad part is the last chapter seems to be made up mostly of lists - the worst being page upon page of the titles of authors' names on archived boxes of NY'er material at the NYPL. A short example would have done just as well.
But, if you are interested in the NY'er and publishing, this is an overall enjoyable, quick read.
July 14, 2014
This is a well-written intelligent memoir by a man I wished lived next door to me. Daniel Menaker was the fiction editor of the New Yorker for years (under Shawn and Tina Brown) as well as an editor for Random House and Harper. It was debating whether to give it 3 stars or 4 only because it is a very inside publishing book. I was particularly amused by his being taught how to do a profit and loss statement on a book--it you can't make money on 10,000 copies, say you'll sell 20,0000! All my publishing friends will know.
His "mistake" and the one mentioned in the very beginning is not surprise. As a young man, he goads his brother into playing football in the wrong position. He tears his tendon and needs surgery--surgery that results in an infection that kills him. Did Daniel kill his brother--years of torment and psychotherapy follow.
It's a quick intelligent book and if you want to spend a couple of hours with a new friend (and learn something about yourself as well as publishing), you'll enjoy it.
His "mistake" and the one mentioned in the very beginning is not surprise. As a young man, he goads his brother into playing football in the wrong position. He tears his tendon and needs surgery--surgery that results in an infection that kills him. Did Daniel kill his brother--years of torment and psychotherapy follow.
It's a quick intelligent book and if you want to spend a couple of hours with a new friend (and learn something about yourself as well as publishing), you'll enjoy it.
February 7, 2014
Daniel Menaker's memoir covers everything from his early childhood to his career at The New Yorker and in the publishing world. Considering that Menaker was an editor for a large portion of his career, I was surprised to find that the book seemed to need some editing itself. The voice was somewhat erratic, almost devolving into a stream of consciousness near the end, which made me feel as if he was on strong painkillers and wasn't entirely lucid; I didn't get much out of the discussions of his early childhood or many of the references to famous authors he'd meet (fine if there's a point to the story - not fine if you just want to say that Alice Munro said you were a heck of a guy once); and I found the present tense extremely awkward. That said, I did ultimately find it worth working through all that in order to read about the inner workings of story selection and editing at The New Yorker.
May 13, 2016
He worked for the NYer for years and later was in publishing. He has a wry sense of humor and I like how the book blends him talking about his family history and some tragedy and insights into himself with descriptions of work and the interesting people he worked with. He confirms that Shawn was an asshole and that William Maxwell was wonderful (I'd have cried if the latter wasn't true - So Long, See You Tomorrow is one of my favorite books.)
August 23, 2015
This deserves 4.5 stars. I borrowed it from the library, but wish I had bought it, because I kept wanting to write marginal notes, highlight clever, funny things. Reading it was like being privileged to get to know someone a little older and a little (or quite a lot) smarter than you, who is willing to open up and tell you the things about life people don't usually acknowledge. You learn stuff, but more importantly, you get to know a person who is worth knowing.
Did not finish
April 11, 2014I'm not going to star this one at all, since I could tell by p40 that his writing style was not my cup of tea. I also didn't get his humor. Not spending amy more time on this one.
April 11, 2015
Everything a memoir should be.
July 18, 2016
I'll read any memoir or history about the New Yorker, so I'm glad I randomly stumbled across this one. No surprise, considering Menaker is a skilled editor, that it's wonderfully crafted.
April 3, 2022
Well that was the drizzling shits.
March 5, 2026
3.5 As an editing memoir, My Mistake was fun for its irreverent and affectionate glimpses into the editorial inner workings of the New Yorker, which, in an industry that is defined by tradition, has got to be one of the most stubbornly so. (Example: Menaker humorously recounts the collective groan that was heard in the office when the magazine finally caved and decided to include an actual table of contents.) It made me miss the literary journals I’ve worked for that had their own well-oiled-machine ways of doing things—and just the physical proximity to other editors that made it possible to have the kinds of interactions like Menaker describes, e.g. when the fact checkers call out “Room at large!” when they need help figuring something out. Somehow a #copyeditors Slack chat just doesn’t compare.
Menaker has plenty of tea to spill about some of the “commanding figures” from his tenure at journal (and his briefer stint in book publishing), so I recommend this for anyone interested in the industry, even though doubtless some of it will feel pretty old-fashioned at this point (or just limited to New York City/big five publishing). But he has some essentially timeless insight into the politics of publishing and the kinds of qualities that make for good editors—like the NYer editor he must looked up to, who told him that sometimes when an author isn’t willing to take a suggestion, it may be a mistake they need to make.
As a memoir, it could have used some tightening. The voice was so conversational at times that it began to feel rambling, and the effort to draw together a theme around free will versus determinism never really came together. But he did write this in his seventies while dealing with cancer, so that’s still pretty impressive. And I did love this line *about* memoir:
“When—despite the radical contingencies, the happenstances, that you know have determined so many aspects of your life, beginning with your very conception—you start trying to shore up its fragments into some kind of organization and meaning, your memory, despite its notorious unreliability, provides the most important information. It has already verified and falsified and winnowed the past in a way that begins to
form, for you, patterns and through-lines. But though you have to distrust the memories that create these
patterns, and though someone else might well see different patterns in them, in a way the ones you come up with can’t be inaccurate. Because they are the patterns that you discern, and so they must be, in an important way, true of your life. Or at least say something important about it.”
Menaker has plenty of tea to spill about some of the “commanding figures” from his tenure at journal (and his briefer stint in book publishing), so I recommend this for anyone interested in the industry, even though doubtless some of it will feel pretty old-fashioned at this point (or just limited to New York City/big five publishing). But he has some essentially timeless insight into the politics of publishing and the kinds of qualities that make for good editors—like the NYer editor he must looked up to, who told him that sometimes when an author isn’t willing to take a suggestion, it may be a mistake they need to make.
As a memoir, it could have used some tightening. The voice was so conversational at times that it began to feel rambling, and the effort to draw together a theme around free will versus determinism never really came together. But he did write this in his seventies while dealing with cancer, so that’s still pretty impressive. And I did love this line *about* memoir:
“When—despite the radical contingencies, the happenstances, that you know have determined so many aspects of your life, beginning with your very conception—you start trying to shore up its fragments into some kind of organization and meaning, your memory, despite its notorious unreliability, provides the most important information. It has already verified and falsified and winnowed the past in a way that begins to
form, for you, patterns and through-lines. But though you have to distrust the memories that create these
patterns, and though someone else might well see different patterns in them, in a way the ones you come up with can’t be inaccurate. Because they are the patterns that you discern, and so they must be, in an important way, true of your life. Or at least say something important about it.”
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