One of my favourite morning activities is to listen to the BBC News on the radio while preparing my breakfast. On one of these occasions, I heard an advertisement for a BBC podcast called Anatomy of a Cancellation, about the controversy around Kate Clanchy. The story intrigued me, especially the role of the publisher.
All the commotion was about Some Kids I Taught and What They Taught Me, a memoir in which the author – an award-winning writer and teacher – provides ‘[a] teacher’s honest, personal account of state education’, as described in a Guardian review in 2019, a few years before the controversy erupted on Twitter. Initially praised and awarded the prestigious Orwell prize, the book was later accused of using racist descriptions of children.
For me, the complete change in attitude towards the book and its author is one of the most interesting aspects of this case. The podcast outlines the sequence of events, allowing Clanchy’s critics to explain their positions and the author to respond. It also explores how the entire affair negatively impacted everyone involved. In doing so, it raises questions about publishing ethics, the dangers of social media and, most importantly, the importance of good, balanced editing!
In fact, I would have liked to hear more about the editing process, but the publisher refused to take part in the podcast. Episode 5 does feature an interview with a sensitivity reader (someone who reads a book to spot offensive content, stereotypes and bias), hired to review an edited version of the memoir. I was really struck by what she said about the emotional impact of words and the author–reader relationship. While I can see why some people are concerned that a sensitivity reader’s involvement could restrict an author’s freedom of speech, I agree that we are responsible for what we write and should always consider the potential hurt that words can cause.
In my opinion, it is one of the editor’s tasks to ensure that language does not reinforce stereotypes, for example by avoiding descriptors that refer to personal attributes such as race, gender, sexual orientation, disability or age (as set out in these Inclusive Language Guidelines). Unless they are relevant and valid. But determining this is apparently not that straightforward!
I was recently talking to an outsider about my work as a freelance editor and translator, and AI inevitably came up. Was I worried about losing jobs because of AI? It’s a fair question, one that occasionally – and unsurprisingly – pops up in a discussion list for editors to which I subscribe. To be honest, I’m not. As Grammar Girl writes in her newsletter about AI and its impact on people like me, ‘[f]or a lot of clients, AI may not be the cheapest or most efficient way to get the writing or editing they need’. I did an editing job earlier this year that perfectly illustrates the damage AI can do, and I thought I should share it with you.
The text was a historical article about World War II, with frequent references to the anti-fascist resistance movement that fought between 1943 and 1945 to liberate Italy from Nazis and fascists alike. It was an extremely heterogeneous movement, made up of resistance fighters coming from three main groups: the Communist Party, the liberal-socialist Action Party and Christian Democracy. There were also socialist partisans and members of the moderately conservative Liberal Party. However, my author revealed the presence of an additional group that other historians must have overlooked: shareholders. Shareholders? Um, maybe just some people worried about losing their shares because of the war…?
I suspected from the start that this was an AI-generated translation from Italian, not least because the author sent me the original Italian article along with the English version (which we had not agreed). At first glance, the text looked fine and didn’t contain the usual mistakes made by native Italian speakers, but it did sound very Italian, so it was clearly a literal translation. Occasionally, punctuation was lacking and the syntax was messed up as a result. The translation was also inconsistent: for example, the name of an Italian newspaper was sometimes translated, sometimes left in Italian. It dawned on me that this could very well be a machine translation.
My suspicions were confirmed when I came across the famous ‘shareholders’, mentioned alongside some of the other groups involved in the resistance. I checked the original and there it said ‘azionisti’, members of the Partito d’Azione – the Action Party. OMG. The software translated ‘azionisti’ literally, completely ignoring the context and despite the party name being mentioned earlier in the article, but clearly AI doesn’t remember that far back. Not so intelligent after all, eh?
Now I understand why people might need to use translation software. Academic publishing can be a real money pit, so you think the software will save you money, but it won’t if the result is inconsistent at best, ridiculous at worst. Without a human editor who knows what they’re reading, someone who may even have studied Italian history, you risk embarrassing yourself in front of your colleagues.
But if you must rely on translation software, here are two tips: (1) have a human being post-edit the translation; (2) tell them that you used translation software. Copy editors always figure out the truth. ALWAYS.
New round of posts about the “fabulous four” core activities in academia: writing, teaching, research, and dissemination. Episode 3: dissemination.
Tackling the peer review system
A few years ago, the renowned scholar Mieke Bal made a provocative call to abolish the peer review system. Don’t hold your breath: it’s not likely to happen. As pressure to produce 4* publications increases, the peer review system will continue to be adopted widely.
This is why it is essential that you take the time to prepare yourself, and your manuscript, for publication, regardless of the fact that the peer review system is problematic, or perhaps precisely because it is!
In this blog post I want to offer a short, practical guide on submitting articles to peer-reviewed journals, based on both my experience as a published author and as a journal editor.
Lesson 1: Know your reviewer
Nowadays most academic journals draw on the expertise of peer reviewers in their selection of manuscripts deemed worthy of publication. They will assess the quality of your article, as well as its suitability for publication in the selected journal. Their feedback will eventually form the basis of the editor’s decision.
So how to get off to a good start?
Get some background information about the journal, especially its editorial board: peer reviewers are often selected from there.
Always check that you’ve correctly referenced other scholars’ works before you hit the ‘send’ button; they might end up reviewing your article, and people won’t appreciate seeing their name misspelt or their works cited wrongly (I once reviewed a paper where the author incorrectly referenced my work, from which I gathered they had probably never read it – I was not happy).
Some journals let you suggest peer reviewers. Given the difficulty to find reviewers nowadays, journal editors will appreciate you providing them with a list of potential. DON’T name colleagues or supervisors, though, as this may compromise your anonymity (in case of double-blind peer review procedure, i.e., author and reviewer identity remains hidden throughout the peer review process).
Lesson 2: Patience is the magic word
The peer review can take a really long time, so don’t expect quick answers or decisions. Here are a few factors that determine the length of the process:
Peer reviewers are generally unpaid, and the number of people willing to cut out time and energy to review a paper has – understandingly – diminished over the years. So it may take some time for a journal simply to find a sufficient number of reviewers.
When the reports contradict each other (for example, you get an “accept” and a “reject” recommendation), editors will have to find a third or even fourth reviewer in order to get a clearer picture. This will obviously prolong the process.
Your article may also go through multiple review “rounds”. In fact, it is not uncommon for journals to send a revised paper back to one or more – original or new – reviewers, who will check to see if and how you’ve addressed their feedback.
If the process is delayed for any of these reasons, there’s not much you can do, except one thing: when resubmitting a manuscript, always provide a detailed list of changes you’ve made. This will save both editors and peer reviewers time when reassessing the quality of your manuscript in further rounds.
It’s also fine to contact the editor to ask for an update, but please don’t harass them!
Lesson 3: Dealing with negative criticism
Peer review reports can be painful and even devastating, and Professor Bal is right to point out the problem of “grudge-bearing scholars” destroying articles just to get back at someone, although I wonder how common this really is.
In my experience reports are generally quite helpful, also because most journals will gather multiple reports, so even if you get one very short piece of feedback, the other reviewers will usually make up for this lack.
Still, if you get negative criticism, don’t take it to heart. Put aside your pride and try to learn from it. This doesn’t mean that you have to accept anything the reviewer says; if you can motivate your choices or defend your position, you don’t necessarily have to apply the suggested changes.
Do, however, carefully read and reflect upon the comments, and most of all, never dismiss the reviewer’s opinion. It won’t get you anywhere and you will not make a good impression on the journal editors.
Last but not least: show gratitude, even if you’re boiling with rage! Peer reviewers take out valuable time to read your work, usually with tight deadlines, and most of the time they will help you improve it, so acknowledge that.
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For more advice, tips and encouragement, check out these online resources:
Your Editing Alternative 