The thing about paper and ink is that there’s no going back. Digital publishing is a relationship without commitment – if you don’t like something on your website you can just take it down. A typo? Erased in a click. But ink and paper, well, it’s like getting married on your first date. You’re stuck with each other.
A few days before it lands with subscribers or begins to elbow its way onto the shelves of news kiosks, we get a few boxes of the new issue of Monocle delivered from the printers to our HQs in London and Zürich. And even though we’ve seen proof pages and know every choice of word and picture that we committed to, there’s still an excitement, and some trepidation, as the boxes are cut open and copies handed around. I often let my copy sit on my desk for a few minutes before diving in, wondering what awaits.
This week some of the team gathered in Zürich for a planning session for 2025. As part of the day, we took part in a German publishing tradition: a blattkritik (leaf review). This is where you critique, page by page, a journal – in this instance Monocle. Now you can do this just with your team but in German magazines there’s almost always a commitment to bringing in an outsider to scrutinise your work. So Anne Urbauer, a long-time friend and former colleague of Tyler’s, also came to Zürich. She’s a great editor, journalist and reader of brands, so I was not surprised to see her arrive holding copies of Monocle and Konfekt, whose pages were now sporting numerous Post-it-note ears.
There are few industries or professions where moments of stocktaking are not to be valued. Moments where you can pause to look, as a team, at your work and ask whether you’re heading in the right direction, whether nuance has been lost along the way or ambition diluted to meet deadlines. And finally, whether you have managed to get everyone on board with the direction of travel. When I worked on newspapers, these post-mortems were a morning ritual. You needed a thick skin as the editor turned the pages and passed judgement but the debate was valuable – and often inspiring.
Anyway, Anne was kind, detailed, probing and understanding as she quizzed us about everything from picture choices to the rhythm and pacing of stories. Anne, despite being steeped in this profession, was also able to detach and see the pages as a reader. So, often one of those Post-it notes simply highlighted a moment of delight. Those were my favourite ones.
The role of the critic has been much denuded in recent years. The theatre critics who could make or break a show have lost their power; their names no longer as well-known as the actors they praised or slated. Most restaurant critics seem to love just about everywhere they go, scared of causing a chef anxiety or being seen as a bully. We are in a time where “likes” and praise are simply expected. All of this is fine but there is still value in listening to someone who has knowledge, a deep understanding of your work and will tell you how they really see it.
This is especially true at Monocle because I know that there are thousands of people every month who open the magazine, do their own version of a blattkritik and decide whether or not they like what we committed to paper. Long live the critic.
Oh, and the new, very good October issue of Monocle is on salenow.