What happens during peer review?

Once I’ve made a list of potential peer reviewers, and I or my assistant editor have evaluated them based on these guidelines, I start querying reviewers. Typically, I start with two, and I branch out as scholars respond (or don’t). I suggest a timeline for the review, and I negotiate those timelines based on who is available and what the project requires. Once a scholar agrees to take on the review, I send them our peer review guidelines and the material they are reviewing.

At Illinois, we use standard guidelines for our reviews to make sure we are asking for the same feedback on each project. In our guidelines, we ask questions about a project’s scholarly contribution; its sources and documentation; its style and organization; its potential audience and competition; and suggested revisions. The questions are somewhat customized based on whether the project is at the proposal or manuscript stage, and whether the proposed project is an edited collection or manuscript. Ultimately, we ask peer reviewers to summarize their overall view of the project and whether they think the project is essentially ready for publication; may need optional revision; requires specific revision; or does not merit publication.

Sometimes reviewers fill out the guidelines as short-answer questions, and sometimes they write memo- or letter-style reports. Either is fine, as long as they respond to the topics we ask about in our guidelines.

How do editors read reports?

When I receive reports back from a project, my main goal is to read the reports together. We need two reports to justify a decision like offering a contract, so considering what the reports say together is really important. The best situations happen when reports either agree or are complementary. Sometimes that means they have the same feedback, and sometimes that means they both speak to the same issue in ways that feel useful for the author. For example, two reports might mention that a manuscript needs work on its organization: one might recommend making it more strongly chronological, while another may have ideas about shoring up its thematic structure. Both diagnose organization as an issue that merits more attention, and the author and I can discuss the next steps for organization based on these ideas.

Sometimes reports differ. When they speak to different issues, that is usually okay. If one focuses on organization and another focuses on sources, then together those reports might provide a more complete picture of the project. However, when two reports speak about the same issue with entirely different opinions—one thinks the organization is outstanding, and the other thinks it’s terrible—that can be difficult. We call this split reviews. Often working through split reports takes conversation with series editors, authors, and potentially even my colleagues as we try to parse out the best next steps for a project.

While I’m always interested in the summary a reviewer ultimately chooses, I also pay close attention to the rationale behind that summary. If a reviewer doesn’t recommend publication because they think a manuscript needs to be copy edited, I usually don’t give that very much weight, because I don’t expect materials to be polished in terms of style and grammar at this stage. (At most, I might make a note for my colleagues in editorial for when they hire copy editors.) However, if a reviewer doesn’t recommend publication because multiple large aspects of the project aren’t working, I am more likely to agree with their perspective.

When I receive reports from reviewers, I take time to read and review them. I usually do this once I receive individual reports, to get the gist of how a scholar views the project and start thinking through the next steps. Once I have both reports, I read them more carefully, paying particular attention to where they are in conversation and where they diverge. Then I write an email to the author letting them know that their reports are in and summarizing them from my point of view. In my summary, I am trying to bring the reports into conversation and highlight the most important aspects they bring up. I am most interested in large-order concerns, like the argument, evidence, organization, and how the project intervenes in a field’s conversation. I end the message by asking authors to share their response to the reports, and I always recommend Laura Portwood-Stacer’s template response. I also often meet with authors to discuss reports, either before or after they write their letter of response.

In general, I do not edit reviewers’ reports before I send them to authors. I believe it is important for authors to understand what their peers think of their work in an unfiltered way. Sometimes critical feedback is difficult to read, but this is also the best time an author can encounter it—before publication, when they can consider the feedback in the revision process.

If a report uses a difficult tone or seems otherwise harsh, I don’t edit it, but I may warn authors about the content they will read. I am continually surprised by authors’ ability to read through a negative tone and into potentially useful feedback, even in ways that I struggle to do myself.

On the other hand, this doesn’t mean that I condone using harsh language in a report. There are many ways to deliver critical feedback in professional and respectful ways, and I am very grateful when scholars are willing to do so. It’s an important part of peer review. And it shows that a scholar has invested time and energy in making their peers’ work better and contributing to the success of a press’s list.

How should an author respond to reports?

As I mentioned above, when I send reports to authors, I also mention their response, the formal version of which comes in the form of a letter. But much like the purpose for peer review itself, responding to peer review can serve a few different purposes and can come together in different ways. Authors (and editors!) will have an initial reaction to reports. This is human! However, the initial reaction isn’t necessarily the one that the author should bring forward into an official response letter, for good or bad. Sometimes reports can seem harsh at first, or they can seem like they are requiring an author to completely rewrite the manuscript. But upon rereading the reports, authors can find helpful feedback amidst myriad suggestions. At the same time, sometimes reports read positively at first, but upon rereading the author realizes they want to work on a specific aspect a bit more. As such, it is so important to read reports multiple times before committing to certain plans.

I also understand that different authors process suggestions differently. Some might need to talk about them, with me or other colleagues, while some might want to write several iterations of a response letter to formulate their plan. I encourage authors to lean into whatever makes the most sense for them, and whatever sets them up to have the most successful revision process.

At the same time, I don’t expect authors to agree with everything reviewers say. Sometimes they do! And when that happens, it feels like the process has really aligned. However, I am most concerned that authors read and digest reports, and that they think through what is best for the project. If they have aspects they really don’t agree with, especially aspects that are tangential or don’t align with the project’s main goals, it is helpful for authors to lay that out explicitly in their letter of response.

At Illinois, letters of response are tools I use to communicate with authors about the reports, showing that they understand what the reports have said and what they plan to work on as a result. I also use reports when I present projects to our boards and request contracts. As such, reports need to be explicit because colleagues who are not familiar with the ins and outs of every project will be reading them. It’s important for authors to understand this audience and frame the letter for that purpose.

What happens after peer review?

Once I have an author’s response, then we can plan the next steps. If a project gets two glowing reviews, then the next step is straightforward: I request an advance contract for a proposal or a contract for a manuscript. (At Illinois, an advance contract means in advance of the full or final manuscript. It is a commitment to publish the resulting work, pending a second round of review.)

Outside of this very positive, and fairly rare circumstance, things can be a little fuzzier, and many factors go into deciding whether to request a contract, recommend a revise and resubmit, or decline a project. I will walk through a few examples of each.

If a project has two reports that suggest revision, I might choose to request a contract at this stage anyway. I typically do this for a few reasons. First, I might do this if the suggested revisions are minor, or if they mostly have to do with style or writing concerns, which I am confident that I can help the author work through. I might also do this if the project shows significant potential, and the reviewers (and/or series editors) articulate this potential in their reports. Maybe the project intervenes in a particularly novel way, or it utilizes an otherwise unknown archive. Sometimes these unique projects take more work, and I like to be able to offer the support of a contract for authors doing this work.

The author’s response letter really helps in this situation. When authors clearly articulate what they took out of the reports and how they will use them in a revision plan, then that strengthens the case for a contract at this stage. It shows that this process of drafting material and seeking feedback and considering that feedback is operating as it should, which inspires confidence that it will continue to do so.

Sometimes I will recommend that an author revise and resubmit their project. Sometimes this might happen at the proposal stage; for example, if the reviewers or series editors are skeptical about a project’s ultimate contribution and prefer to see a full manuscript. It could also happen at the manuscript stage; for example, if the manuscript’s argument isn’t clear or if the source base needs work. On the one hand, I recommend a revise and resubmit because I haven’t been persuaded that the project is ready for a contract in its current state, and I don’t think my boards will be persuaded either. On the other hand, I also recommend this step because I think it is in the best interest of the project. Sometimes the author needs time and space to figure out the right next steps, without making commitments based on the reviewers’ recommendations. As such, it might be best for them to explore all the possibilities of revision rather than commit to one revision plan. Sometimes I decline projects at the peer review stage, and this usually happens for a few reasons. I am not an expert in any of the areas I acquire in, so sometimes what reads well to me doesn’t bear out in peer review. If two peer reviewers don’t think an argument makes sense, then I am likely to decline the project. If the reports indicate that the project seems too far outside the work that we can best support through marketing and promotion, or if the project’s audience is unclear, I might also choose to decline the project at this stage. I’ve written more about declines in a previous post.

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Check out a recent guest post from Alison about artificial intelligence and peer review in scholarly publishing on The H-Net Book Channel’s Feeding the Elephant: A Forum for Scholarly Communications.

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