Lydia Davis. Blind Date. 1998.

What does it say about a five-page book when the colophon has an erratum slip?

I'm all in favor of artfully done editions of Lydia Davis short stories, despite the overwhelming disadvantage that almost nobody will ever get to read them. However, unlike Sketches For A Life of Wassily, this edition has the problems that A. the story isn't interesting, and B. the large accordion-fold book with boards is unwieldy, fragile, and its form has nothing to do with the story that I can ascertain. It seems to be artful bookmaking for its own sake, rather than for the sake of the particular text—design imposed on a text rather than in response to it—and the effect is pretentious, especially with the half-page colophon with accompanying erratum. That the type is not hand-set, not beautiful, and has flawed spacing in the first sentence perhaps adds to this volume's failure to seduce.