January 15, 2024 Issue

I’m fascinated by the differences between the two versions of Helen Rosner’s “Tables for Two” – one in the magazine, the other on newyorker.com. I know I’ve written about this before. I’ll probably write about it again. The situation is similar to the days when Pauline Kael provided two different versions of her movie reviews – one a long-form essay, the other a capsule review for the “In Brief” section of the magazine. It was interesting to see how she performed the reduction - what she cut, what she kept. It’s the same with Rosner. I take it she writes the long piece first. That’s the one that appears on newyorker.com. Then, for the print version of the magazine, she trims it down to fit the smaller space.

For example, the newyorker.com version of her “Tables for Two: Old John’s Diner,” in this week’s issue, begins,

I always read the whole menu at a diner, but I don’t really need to. My order is both predictable and unremarkable: a cup of soup, a cheeseburger with fries. Sometimes I’ll switch things up and have a Greek salad, with extra feta cheese, or corned-beef hash and scrambled eggs, though the side of fries always remains. A cup of coffee—lots of milk—and a slice of pie. If I were to scroll back through my life, tallying every diner meal, every fat ceramic mug of watery coffee, I think they might number in the thousands. 

For the print version, she cuts the first four sentences. The piece begins, “If I were to scroll back through my life, tallying every diner meal, every fat ceramic mug of watery coffee, I think they might number in the thousands.”

Another example: when she describes Old John’s lemon pie in the website version, she says, “The lemon-meringue pie is unimpeachable, with a buttery crumb crust and pucker-tart yellow curd under a snowcap of floaty, marshmallow-like meringue.” In the print version, this is changed to “the lemon-meringue pie was impeccable, a buttery crumb crust and pucker-tart yellow curd under a snowcap of floaty meringue.” I devour both versions, but the web version’s “snowcap of floaty, marshmallow-like meringue” is slightly more delectable.

The piece has a great theme: the diner as time machine. The web version says, “Diners, as a rule, are time machines; whether through the formica sheen of the nineteen-forties, the chromium optimism of the fifties, or the pastel geometries of the eighties, a diner traffics in nostalgia for past decades and past selves.” In the print version, this is reduced to “diners, as a category, are time machines, fuelled by memory of past decades and past selves.” Again, both versions are excellent, but the web version is more detailed. Comparing the two affords a peek at Rosner’s compositional process, or at least her editorial process, which is a form of composition. Also, if you read only the print version, you’re missing out on many wonderful, delicious details.