Academic Writing and Publishing: A Practical Handbook (review)

Speak to other academics in your own institution or at a conference, in any field, and ask them what they do. The reply will always be the same: a precise explanation of some aspects of their more puzzling research interests. No academic would ever reply to such a question by saying, 'I am a writer,' even though that is what we all are. If we didn't write, we wouldn't be here. To become a successful academic is to become a successful academic writer; anyone who thinks otherwise will soon be looking for a new job. Yet it is a common academic habit to try to ignore or deny the nuts and bolts of good writing practice, perhaps hoping that expertise in the esoteric will in some way make up for their shortcomings in these areas. Just as an expertise in the esoteric contributes little to changing a tire or grocery shopping, however, so it similarly fails in writing a research paper in an acceptable style. The content may be good, but it will have a rough ride if the structure is poor.

Shaking academics out of their complacency and making them accept the realities of authorship is probably a Utopian dream. Speaking as an editor, I recognize that this means there will always be plenty of remedial work both for me and for my reviewers, bless them all. And, more's the pity, it also means that an excellent text like James Hartley's Academic Writing and Publishing will not reach all of the wide audience who would most benefit from it.

Hartley has written a most practical handbook that is readable, informative, current, and entertaining. It is divided into four sections: 'Introduction' (one chapter); 'The Academic Article' (thirteen chapters); 'Other Genres' (nine chapters); and 'Other Aspects of Academic Writing' (eight chapters). There are three relevant appendices, plus an author index and a subject index. Each chapter has its own reference list, which is my preferred method of organization: whenever some aspect of the text grabbed my attention, this arrangement made it easy to find the relevant reference.

Any academic can gain insight into his or her own writing by reading the introductory section of Hartley's book. Are you an 'architect,' an 'oil-painter,' a 'bricklayer,' or a 'water-colorist?' That is, do you plan in advance, change and revise, write one step at a time, or aim to complete the text at the first attempt? Personally, I use a different methodology depending on what I'm doing. Donovan the bricklayer writes monographs, but I am a water-colourist, loading my palette with shades of vitriol, when replying to an adverse published comment on one of my papers. But I do find all academic writing a joy (15), which, I suspect, puts me in a minority.

The problems faced by non-native speakers writing in English are obvious (17). I am an Englishman at a Dutch institution, and I happily read draft research papers for my colleagues. What is not so widely recognized is that both native and non-native English speakers tend to be equally inept at formatting their research papers for journal publication. So, for Scripta Geologica, I often have papers to edit, after peer review and correction of the scientific content, that are not just poorly written but also incorrectly formatted. Editors of high-profile journals would probably reject them at or before this stage. But I need copy;¹ thus, a preliminary edit of a long research paper might take (waste?) two full days of my time. This is a time-consuming, sometimes painful, but necessary aspect of the academic process that is rarely recognized outside the fellowship of editors.

Hartley integrates his own personal experiences with the more general messages needed by the new (or not-so-new) academic author. And those not-so-new academics will find much to interest them. For example, what established author can read Hartley...