Meet Eric Brandt—Executive Editor at Stanford University Press.
It snowed another four inches last night in New Haven, and this morning that accumulation was being covered with an unrelenting sleet. As 17th-century British scholar James Howell would have said (echoed later by the esteemed W.C. Fields), “Not fit for man nor beast.” Literally, it seems, as even my faithful dog refused to go out for his morning walk with me. He simply raised one eyelid, rolled over and returned to his puppy-dog dreams. As I waited at the bus stop with two other hopefuls wrapped up like Inuit fishermen, wondering if the buses would brave the icy roads, my thoughts turned to my new job in California.
The anticipation of moving to Stanford reminds me of the excitement I felt during my first publishing internship.
I was out at Stanford just last week, searching for an apartment in a housing market that can only be described as having lost all touch with reality, much less reason. The highlight of the trip was meeting my future colleagues at their monthly “Cake Day.” A misnomer, as there sadly was no cake in sight, though there was pie, in the form of pizza, and one of the warmest groups of colleagues anyone could hope for. They interrupted their work for food and conversation, to announce their award-winning books and forthcoming improvements to the office, and to introduce me. I would have liked to stay there for hours chatting with each of them about their own challenges and dreams.