Editorial

maybe i am just an odd editor, but I like to read errata lists. I take innocent pleasure in perusing lists of corrections and emendations. Some publications, like The New York Review of Books, can turn the errata list into a genre in itself—and make it a learning experience. I also find that the corrections found in local newspapers often provide quaint and interesting details of relevance to the local community. Moreover, in my experience, a forbidding academic tome can suddenly appear friendly and inviting as soon as it (or rather its author) admits that a mistake has been made, say, on page 432, second line. Note that it is not the fault in itself that is commendable in any of these cases but rather the willingness to admit the error, coupled with the readiness to always wish to improve the text and, ultimately, increase our shared knowledge. Errata and truth are the opposite of alternative facts and Newspeak. For truth, trustworthiness, and admitting error are not central concerns for politicized, ideology-talk. The errata list, on the other hand, acknowledges imperfection while striving for improvement. I think that is a very human and humane approach. It is interesting, too, that the root meaning of “err” is to wander or to stray. When we say that to err is human, we admit that we make mistakes but also that we wander and explore, and try our best

Having said that, I am now ready to admit that there were some mistakes in the last issue of Bookbird (55.2). In the fine article on street art by Elizabeth Marshall and Theresa Rogers, I inadvertently changed “culture jamming” to “cultural jamming” and also used too low resolution in one or two of the images. I also claimed that the cover images (front and back) by Lisbeth Zwerger had never been published before; well, they had, exactly forty years ago in the book that was Zwerger’s debut as an illustrator. The illustrations published on the inside back cover, however, had not previously been published; they can be seen in color in the electronic version of the journal. Finally, I wrote that the cover illustrations showed a fairy tale by Heinrich Hoffman—wrong again!—it should of course be E. T. A. Hoffman!

In the present issue of Bookbird, we try again.

There are two texts on the topic of nonfiction for children: a Letter from Tina Bilban about Slovenian nonfiction and an interview with Candace Fleming by Teri Suico about the art and craft of nonfiction. When we advertised a call for a special nonfiction issue of Bookbird, I imagined that we would get a huge response from writers since it is a major publishing genre for children and youth. But it was not to be. However, these two articles eloquently show the relevance of the topic and the centrality of nonfiction as a form of writing for children and youth.

Two of the feature articles in this issue deal with Latin American themes. We have Carol Brochin and Carmen Medina’s discussion of transnationalism in “Latinx” children’s literature and Cristina Rhodes’ analysis of Bettina Restrepo’s Illegal, which focuses on female empowerment and “undocumented border crossing.” These two texts are indicative of the rise of critical articles in English on Latin American children’s literature.

Among the feature articles, we also find a study of the Finnish translation of Peter Rabbit. Furthermore, Anna Kerchy has contributed a review essay on several recent studies of Lewis Carroll and his Alice books. And Marloes Robijn provides a description of The Nordic House in Reykjavik in the section “Children & Their Books”; her article has the subheading: “A House with a Big Heart for Children and Literature.” Finally, Sunjidmaa Jamba has contributed an interview with Mongolian writer Dashondog Jamba, under the title “I am a Writer on the Nomadic Journey.” Sadly, Dashondog Jamba passed away while this issue was in preparation, which increases the poignancy and relevance of the interview. An obituary, penned by Liz Page, of this extraordinary writer, can moreover be found in the Focus IBBY-section.