My Chicago Manual of Style, 15th edition, arrived today through DHL—two weeks earlier than Amazon’s estimate.
With a pounding heart I slowly cut through the tape with a cutter—this three-inch-thick tome I’ve been wanting for three years. I inhaled its straight-from-the-storage- and-into-the-box smell, taking in its newness. Ahhh. No, this is no second-hand or discarded book. This is my very own copy, it’s spanking new, and I bought it on sale!
Now that I finally have it, I feel like fainting.
My love affair with Chicago goes back two years ago when I was managing a team of editors for a POD firm outsourcing to the Philippines. Back then my team—all eleven of us—shared a copy for more than a year before the COO relented and ordered another.
Chicago’s arrival has sparked interest among my co-workers, who, until recently, were versed only in AP and the house style. Now that I have Chicago and Sam, the resident style guru (a.k.a. the big boss of style), has the American Heritage Dictionary, he’s confident we’ll be able to approach style with a lot more swagger now.