Late last night, New Yorker Editor David Remnick learned that Tablet magazine had the goods on one of his writers. Staff writer Jonah Lehrer, Tablet was ready to report, had fabricated quotes that had allegedly come from Bob Dylan for his celebrated book âImagine: How Creativity Worksâ (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). Remnick had a conversation with Lehrer; Lehrer resigned. Harcourt announced it would stop shipping âImagineâ and delete the availability of the e-book.
Statements ensued. Remnick: âThis is a terrifically sad situation, but, in the end, what is most important is the integrity of what we publish and what we stand for.â
Lehrer, in part: âThe quotes in question either did not exist, were unintentional misquotations, or represented improper combinations of previously existing quotes.â
The Tablet story, by reporter Michael C. Moynihan, puts to rest the notion that Lehrerâs most egregious literary sins were a matter of the inaptly titled âself-plagiarism.â Thatâs the offense that the New Yorker uncovered in June, after Jim Romenesko reported that one of Lehrerâs posts for the New Yorker repeated material that heâd written in the Wall Street Journal.
Following that episode, the New Yorker got busy, reviewing all the work that Lehrer had written for the magazine. Up went editorâs notes on five of Lehrerâs contributions for the magazineâs Frontal Cortex blog. A sample:
Editorsâ Note: Portions of this post appeared in similar form in a December, 2009, piece by Jonah Lehrer for Wired magazine. We regret the duplication of material.
âDuplication of material,â decided the magazine, wasnât an offense worthy of dismissal. So Lehrer stayed.
Then Moynihan started pelting Lehrer with questions about quotes attributed to Dylan in âImagine.â As the story narrates, Lehrer said heâd gotten some rare Dylan quotes because the singerâs manager, Jeff Rosen, had provided some unreleased interview that was conducted for Martin Scorceseâs documentary No Direction Home. Though Lehrer makes every attempt to shake Moynihan from his pursuit, the reporter notes the upshot of this chase:
Lehrer finally confessed that he has never met or corresponded with Jeff Rosen, Dylanâs manager; he has never seen an unexpurgated version of Dylanâs interview for No Direction Home, something he offered up to stymie my search; that a missing quote he claimed could be found in an episode of Dylanâs âTheme Time Radio Hourâ cannot, in fact, be found there; and that a 1995 radio interview, supposedly available in a printed collection of Dylan interviews called The Fiddler Now Upspoke, also didnât exist.
In light of those revelations, the New Yorker is going to do more due diligence, according to spokeswoman Alexa Cassanos. âWe had done a thorough investigation six weeks ago,â she says. âWe covered our own material. Now weâre going to go back and go through any quotes.â
The bright light in this depressing story of deception comes from Moynihan, who describes himself as âsomething of the Dylan obsessive â" piles of live bootlegs, outtakes, books.â As he hunts Lehrer and the provenance of his bogus quotes, Moynihan shows us just how steeped in Bob Dylan he is. For example:
Further explaining Dylanâs creative process, Lehrer writes that the songwriter âbegins when he finds a sound or song that âtouches the bone,â â attributing the quote to Dylanâs 2004 memoir, Chronicles. But a thorough rereading of Chroniclesâ"along with a text search of the eBookâ"turned up nothing of the sort. When I pointed this out, Lehrer conceded that his sourcing was wrong but claimed that I could find the âtouches the boneâ quote in an episode of Dylanâs âTheme Time Radio Hourâ program, which runs 1,000 hours and doesnât exist in transcript form. What specific program, what season (three were produced), at what point in the broadcast, Lehrer never specified. But this too seemed an unlikely citation: âTheme Time Radio Hourâ isnât an interview program and doesnât feature Dylan providing expansive commentary on his career.
Lehrer sold himself to the public and to editors as a smart fellow, a student of the brain who could think his way to a nascent literary fame. He just wasnât smart enough to mislead.
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