Though all of Choice’s subject editors perform the same tasks—seek out and evaluate Web sites and books, assign reviewers, edit reviews, look for new reviewers, edit bibliographic essays—on any given day an editor might do all of these things, only one or two of them, or none of them (perhaps instead turning to a special project).  But nary a day passes without contact with reviewers—maybe one or two, but normally a half dozen or more.  This contact (most of it e-mail, but letters and phone calls too) is the life blood of our operation, for it humanizes what would otherwise be a dry undertaking.  Indeed, we editors thrive on chats with our reviewers. 

What do we talk about?  Well, books of course—also Web sites.  Among the frequently asked questions: May I have more time with the assignment?  (Answer: Probably—would two weeks be sufficient?)  May I exceed the allotted 190 words?  (A: Probably not.)  I’m the author’s second cousin, is that okay? (A: Definitely not.)  This book is not a good match for me; may I return it?  (A: Certainly).  I saw a book I’d like to review; can you get it for me? (A: I’ll try).

But our all-time favorite correspondence deals with overdue reviews, for in this arena our reviewers demonstrate their true humanity (and we respond with our own).  Reviewers frequently need more time with assignments—and that’s usually fine with us (see FAQ, above)—and in requesting extensions (or explaining tardy submissions) they sometimes offer “excuses.”  For several years we have been collecting the best of them—the self-effacing, the cringing, the poignant, the incriminating, and the just plain hilarious—and the somnolent days of summer seem like the perfect time to share some of them.

Excuses fall into several large categories, pathos being always a fine choice: “Sorry this is late. The spirit was willing, but the flesh had a bad cold and was wallowing in Kleenex and self-pity.”  And there’s passing the buck (to your children): “We are in the adoption process and have just been notified we are receiving three children ages four, two, and one.  Our world is a bit upside down at the moment.”  And too busy: “Before I get to the review, I need to finish a book manuscript, move out of my house, respond to a divorce settlement, go out of town (twice), and file my taxes.”  The overworked/wild beast combo—always a winner: “I have become an accidental library director at a time when we are doubling the size of the library and I am up to my neck in alligators.”  System failure (of course!): “I twice tried to use the Internet system and both times it seemed to ‘eat’ the review and lose it in cyberspace from which I was unable to retrieve it.”  Natural disaster: “Katrina has made the relocation of library services off-site a priority … that, having my home bulldozed, and dealing with FEMA have caused this to slip through the cracks.”  We love groveling: “If I can beg your forgiveness to a degree of shamelessness which you have never before heard from a person to the degree that you will be so very kind as to give me the opportunity to review again for you, you will not find your graciousness looked upon lightly: I promise promise promise promise to get it to you extra early as proper penance.  I THOROUGHLY enjoy working with you and would greatly appreciate the opportunity to redeem myself.”  The it’s-your-fault option: “The books were so large and heavy they caused our mail person a severely strained back.  We have been attending to his wounds.”  And good old-fashioned guilt: “I am guilty of great evil. I repent my wrongful ways.  Penitentially yours….”

That every one of these excuse makers (er, reviewers) has been the recipient of myriad student excuses over the years is not lost on us, and we are confident that, in offering up their own excuses, they are pleased to be on the delivering end of the deed.  We applaud them all and ask that they get the review to us as soon as they can.—RAB