Edition (pronounced ih-dish-uhn)
(1) One of a series of printings of the same publication,
each issued at a different time and differing from another by alterations,
additions etc (historically sometimes referred to as impressions).
(2) The format in which a work is published (single
volume edition, abridged edition, leather-bound edition, French language edition etc).
(3) In newspaper production, a form of differentiation
between different versions of the “same” issue (late edition, city edition etc)
and used in a similar manner in radio & television broadcasting.
(4) In book collecting, as “first edition”, a copy of a
book from its first release or print run.
(5) The whole number of impressions or copies of a book,
newspaper etc, printed from one set of type at one time.
(6) A version of anything (physical and not), often
(sometimes misleadingly) in forms such as “limited edition”, “special edition”
etc).
1545–1555: From the French édition, from the Middle French, from the Latin ēditiōn- (publication), the stem of ēditiō (a bringing forth,
publishing), the construct being ēdit, the past participle of ēdere (to give out; bring forth, produce)
+ -iōn (the suffix appended
to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the
result of an action or process). When the word entered English in the sense of “version,
translation, a form of a literary work” (and later “act of publishing”) the
dominant linguistic influence was probably the Latin editionem (a bringing forth, producing (although in specialized use
it also carried the meaning “a statement, an account rendered”, from the past-participle
stem of ēdere, the construct being e(x)
(in the sense of “out”) + -dere, a combining
form of dare (to give), from the
primitive Indo-European root do- (to
give). Edition is a noun; the noun
plural is editions.
In publishing and (sometimes vaguely) related fields, the
terms “issue”, “edition” and “version” have come to be used so loosely that
they sometimes function interchangeably but within the publishing industry, there
are conventions of use: Issue
traditionally was used to refer to a specific release of a recurring
publication (magazine, journal, newspaper etc) and tended to be tied to the release
sequence (“October 2024 Issue”, “Fall 2024 Issue”, “Issue No. 215” etc). Issue can however be used also as “re-issue”
which refers usually to a “re-print” of a previous edition although it’s not
uncommon for blurbs like “re-issued with new foreword” or “re-issued in large
print” to appear, the implication being the substantive content remains the
same. Edition was used of a particular form or version of a publication
that might differ from previous ones in significant ways which might include
text corrections, foreign language translations, or updates, thus descriptions
like “German Language Edition”, “Second Edition” or “Abridged Edition. Some editions (especially those which appear
in an irregular sequence) actually give in their title some hint of the nature of
what distinguishes them from what came before such as the convention adopted by
the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic for their Statistical
Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). What
the APA does is change the number if a DSM is regarded as a “new edition” but
retain the number with an appended “R” (revised) or “TR” (text revision) if it’s
an “updated edition”. Thus has appeared
the DSM-III-R (1987), the DSM-IV-TR (2000) and the DSM-5-TR (2022). There’s some overlap in use for version and this perhaps reflects the
influence of technology because it tends to be used of a specific form or
variant of a publication such as language (eg Spanish version), format (eg audio
version) or materials used in the construction (eg e-book version) rather than
an implication of a chronological or iterative update (which in publishing
tends to be called an “edition”. In that
the industry differs from IT where version numbers are almost always sequential
although the convention widely used in the 1980s in which something like “version
2.4.3” could be interpreted as 2=major release, 4=update and 3= bug fix has
long fallen into disuse.
There are also special uses which assume a life of their
own, notably the Revised Standard Version (RSV), an English translation of the
Bible published in 1952 by the Division of Christian Education of the National
Council of the Churches of Christ in the US.
The RSV was a revision of the American Standard Version (ASV, 1901) and
was published to render the text into the modern English which readily would be
understood by a contemporary reader of modest education. The object was not to change the meaning of
the text but to preserve it and paradoxically this required editing the classic
verses written by William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536) or in
the King James Version (KJV, 1611) because the over hundreds of years the language
had evolved and the much of what was in the original needed to be interpreted
for a general audience and the controversy of clerical gatekeepers between God
and his people had for centuries been a thing.
The RSV however has not been the last words and those who track novel
initializms will have been delighted by the appearance of the New Revised
Standard Version (NRSV, released in 1989 by the National Council of Churches
(NCC) and the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue), published
in 2021. Students of such things aren’t
expecting the next update for at least a decade but finding a name might prove more
of a challenge than editing the Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus for a modern
audience although those who have worked in biblical forks have found
alpha-numeric solutions such as RSV-2CE (Revised Standard Version, Second
Catholic Edition (2006))
A first edition of Ulysses (1922) by James Joyce (1882–1941) in 2009 sold on the opening day of an antiquarian book fair London for Stg£275,000, at the time a record for a twentieth century first edition. Ulysses is regarded in the industry as the most collectable modern novel and the first editions, printed on hand-made Dutch fine-paper, are well-catalogued and this was number 45 of the first edition print run (all signed by the author) of 100, one of four not previously accounted for. It had been sold originally by the Manhattan’s obviously subversive Sunwise Turn bookshop (Ulysses at the times banned in the US) and remained in the possession of the same family, stored in its original box and thus not exposed to light, accounting for the preservation of the construction. Proving that dealers in literary circles can gush with the finest used car salesmen, the dealer who arranged the sale explained: “The color is amazing – this lovely Aegean Sea, Greek flag blue which would normally have darkened into a more dirty blue but because it has been in a box it is a complete thing of beauty.” The almost pristine condition was a product also of its history of use, an inspection suggesting it was seemingly unread except for the well-thumbed final chapter where the most salacious passages can be found. The existence of unread copies of well-known books is not unusual and those notorious for sitting neglected on the bookshelf include “challenging” texts such as A Theory of Justice (1971) by John Rawls (1921–2002), A Brief History of Time (1988) by Stephen Hawking (1942–2018) and Joyce’s own, bafflingly difficult Finnegans Wake (1939). Intriguingly, the antiquarian book business also includes the category “pre-first edition” (any limited run copy of a book printed before the “first edition” is published). The apparent oxymoron is explained by “first edition” being an industry definition rather than a literal description; pre-first editions thus analogous with “pre-production” or “final prototype” cars which (if they’ve survive the crusher which claims most) can be prized by collectors.
Among special editions there are, inter alia, “Collector's Editions”, “Anniversary Editions” and even, in one instance, the “So Fetch Edition”.
In commerce, “special editions” have become notable
income generators for content providers and the movie business has embraced the
concept with editions such as “the making of”, “bloopers & out-takes”, “director’s
cut” and others and the idea isn’t new. Led
Zeppelin's eighth studio album (In
Through the Out Door (1979)) originally was sold with an outer sleeve of plain
brown paper, stamped with nothing more than the while the cardboard sleeve proper
within was released with six different versions of the artwork. Buyers would thus not know which sleeve they
were selecting. There’s nothing to
suggest it was anything but a gimmick and neither the band nor the record
company were expecting many to keep buying copies in the plain brown wrapped
until they’d scored all six covers but there were press reports at the time of "Led Heads" doing exactly that. The industry took note.
The attraction of releasing multiple versions of essentially the same product with variations restricted to some added content or detail differences in the packaging is that the additional costs in production and distribution are marginal yet there’s sometimes it’s possible to charge a premium for the “non-standard editions”. The practice had for decades been quite a thing with car manufacturers but the music business came also to like the idea because, unlike with the cars where customers tended to buy one at a time, obsessive fans of musicians might be persuaded they needed several copies of what was essentially the same thing. Leftist UK student site The Tab noted few music fans were as obsessive as Taylor Swift’s (b 1989) Swifties and, more significantly, they were also impressively numerous and thus an irresistible catchment of disposable income. What The TAB noted was the almost simultaneous release of a remarkable (and apparently unprecedented) of 34 versions of Ms Swift’s eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department (2024), something which as well as generating revenue has the statistical benefit of afforcing her presence on the charts, every sale counting as a 1.0. Some were technologically deterministic in than four were released as audio cassettes and nine were exclusively digital bit most were essentially the same product except for the inclusion of a bonus track and there were some available only through the retailer Target. The most obsessive Swifties obviously could buy all 34 editions but for those which want just an exhaustive collection of the music, it appeared all was included on the accurately named The Anthology so there was that. One day, all 34, still (where appropriate) unopened in their original packaging will appear begin to appear on auction sites. The approach attracted some adverse comment (which the Swifties doubtless ignored) and probably confirmed in the mind of JD Vance (b 1984; US senator (Republican-Ohio) since 2023) that childless cat ladies are evil.
All editions: The Tab’s The Tortured Poets Department discography:
1. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Manuscript
2. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Albatross
3. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Bolter
4. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Black Dog
5. Standard album and The Manuscript
6. Standard and The Manuscript (signed)
7. Standard and But Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
8. Standard and Guilty As Sin? (Acoustic)
9. Standard and Down Bad (Acoustic)
10. Standard and Fortnight (Acoustic)
11. Standard and Fresh Out The Slammer (Acoustic)
12. Target exclusive with The Albatross
13. Target exclusive with The Bolter
14. Target exclusive with The Black Dog
15. Target exclusive vinyl
16. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing one)
17. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing two)
18. The Albatross vinyl
19. The Bolter vinyl
20. The Black Dog vinyl
21. The Manuscript vinyl
22. The Anthology
23. Standard and The Black Dog ‘voice memo’
24. Standard album and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me
voice memo
25. Standard album and Cassandra voice memo
26. Standard album (digital)
27. Standard album and Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
28. Standard album and loml (live from Paris)
29. Standard album and My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite
Toys (live from Paris)
30. Standard album and The Alchemy / Treacherous mashup
(live from Paris)
31. The Manuscript cassette
32. The Bolter cassette
33. The Albatross cassette
34. The Black Dog cassette
1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, Lipstick edition. The shade of red appears to be close to Dior's lipstick #744 (Party Red).
The car manufacturers have produced at least hundreds of “special editions”, a concept to which they kept returning because it was lucrative, the things usually profitable to an extent exceeding greatly the nominal sum of their parts. Quite how many have existed over the years is difficult to estimate because, in addition to the well-documented examples from manufacturers which were sold nationally or even globally, some were offered only briefly or regionally and barely advertised. Additionally, dealers or sometimes an agglomeration of them would also conjure up their own "special editions" so the total of such things is probably in the thousands. Sometimes, fashion houses were paid to lend their name, AMC teaming with Pierre Cardin, Levi Strauss (Volkswagen also had a denim-trimmed Beetle though without a specific brand attribution) & Oleg Cassini while the Lincoln Continental at times was offered with themes by Emilio Pucci, Cartier, Bill Blass and de Givenchy although the most memorable were the reputed 500 “Lipstick editions”, a study in red & white, quite a sight given the expanse of sheet metal and leather.
1969 Dodge Charger R/T SE (left), 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (centre left), 1976 Holden HX LE (centre right) and 2002 Mazda Miata Special Edition (MX-5 in some markets) (right).
In most of the “special” editions, offered over the decades, it was only in the advertising or press kits that terms like “special edition” or “limited edition” appeared. Sometimes though, such physical badges did appear on the vehicles. In the US, on the 1969 Dodge Chargers with the SE option, the badge included both “SE” & “Special Edition” while in Australia, only “SE” appeared on the 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (one of the industry’s longer model names) although the marketing material called it a “Special Edition”, a usage borrowed from the parent corporation in the US and even the badge used was the same part as that which had been stuck on the 1970 Dodge Challenger SE. Holden’s frankly cynical (but most profitable) 1976 LE spelled out “Limited Edition” under a “LE” (in a larger font) while Mazda used only the full term for the Miata (MX-5) Special Edition models.
Limited Edition, less limited profit: The Holden LE
1976 HX Holden LE
By the mid 1970s, the market had come to prefer the cheaper, smaller and easier to use cassette tapes which meant warehouses were soon full of the once desirable 8-track players and buyers were scarce. In Australia, GMH (General Motor Holden) by 1975 had nearly a thousand in the inventory which also bulged with 600-odd Monaro body-shells, neither of which were attracting customers; fashions change and both had become unfashionable. Fortunately, GMH was well-acquainted with the concept of the "parts-bin special edition" whereby old, unsaleable items are bundled together and sold at what appears a discount, based for advertising purposes on a book-value retail price there’s no longer any chance of realizing. Thus created was the high-priced, limited edition LE (which stood for "Limited Edition", the Monaro name appearing nowhere although all seem still to use the name), in metallic crimson with gold pin striping, golf "honeycomb" aluminium wheels, fake (plastic) burl walnut trim and crushed velour (polyester) upholstery; in the 1970s, this was tasteful. Not designed for the purpose, the eight-track cartridge player crudely was bolted to the console but five-hundred and eighty LEs were made, GMH pleasantly surprised at how quickly they sold with no need to resort to discounting. When new, they listed at Aus$11,500, a pleasingly profitable premium of some 35% above the unwanted vehicle on which it was based; these days, examples are advertised for sale for (Aus$) six-figure sums and anyone who now buys a LE does so for reasons other than specific-performance. Although of compact size (in US terms) and fitted with a 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8, it could achieve barely 110 mph (175 km/h), acceleration was lethargic by earlier and (much) later standards yet fuel consumption was high; slow and thirsty the price to be paid for the early implementations of the emission control plumbing bolted to engines designed during more toxic times.
1971 Holden HQ Monaro LS 350
The overwrought and bling-laden Holden HX typified the tendency during the 1970s and of US manufacturers and their colonial off-shoots to take a fundamentally elegant design and, with a heavy-handed re-style, distort it into something ugly. A preview of the later “malaise era” (so named in the US for many reasons), it was rare for a facelift to improve the original. The 1971 HQ Holden was admired for an austerity of line and fine detailing; what followed over three subsequent generations lacked that restraint. The HX LE was one of a number of "special" and "limited" editions offered during the era and it remains one of the few remembered.
