It’s the birthday of the great editor Robert Gottlieb (b. 1931), who frankly doesn’t want our attention and is happiest when his career is pretty much invisible to the world. Gottlieb has edited Toni Morrison, Ray Bradbury, John Cheever, John Updike, Joseph Heller, Cynthia Ozick, Doris Lessing, John Le Carré, Michael Crichton, Robert Caro, and like that.

Gottlieb not only hates the spotlight; he hates writing. He has said, “I was never the editor who wanted to be a writer. Writing is hard.” Yet Gottlieb caved in to pressure and wrote a memoir, Avid Reader, published in 2016 and containing many stories of the authors he’s worked with.

Gottlieb was born in New York City, grew up in Manhattan, and went to Columbia University (1952) and then Cambridge. He started working at Simon & Schuster as an editorial assistant in 1955, back when publishing houses were smaller and more apt to publish books they thought were worthy, rather than just books they thought would make a lot of money. (If you want to hear sad stories about the good old days, just ask editors—or writers—about publishing then versus publishing now.) Within a couple of years, a shake-up in ownership at the company resulted in a lot of senior staff leaving, and Gottlieb rose quickly to become editor-in-chief. In 1968, he left to become editor-in-chief and publisher at Knopf. After a stint at The New Yorker (1987-1992), he decided he didn’t want to run anything anymore and has since worked for Knopf for free, continuing to work with, for example, Toni Morrison.

Gottlieb has been married twice and has three children. Besides being insanely well read, Gottlieb loves the ballet and was on the board of the New York City Ballet for years. He also collects vintage plastic handbags. (That’s a thing? I guess that’s a thing.)

Cynthia Ozick recalled when her editor and friend at Knopf, David Segal, died of a heart attack right before Christmas in 1970. Right about then, Gottlieb’s wife gave birth to their daughter. “Bob called me from the hospital right after her birth and said, Don’t worry, you’re not abandoned, your editor is gone, but I am here, and I will be your editor and publish you. Don’t feel that you’re deserted or lost. It was one of the most astounding acts of generosity I’ve encountered in my life. It occurred in the middle of birth, death, bewilderment, grief” (Larissa MacFarquhar, “Robert Gottlieb: The Art of Editing No. 1,” The Paris Review, Issue 132, Fall 1994).

Have a splendidly sunny Monday and stay scrupulously honest to the data.