Why is most of the literature so damnably boring? What is it that makes us get as far as “The cardiac isoform has an additional N-terminal domain that is postulated to provide a greater level of . . . zzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ”? Darkness follows.
In EMBO Reports (part of the Nature group, so I’m allowed to talk about it here) we may have part of an answer. A rather tedious analysis1 claims that there are not enough sensory descriptors in scientific writing.
[S]cientific prose should be enriched with sensory words, provided that they clarify the meaning rather than obscure it, in much the same way as a good statistical data visualization involves the mapping of abstract data into colours and three-dimensional shapes, to help the reader or viewer discover meaningful patterns.
Green! Purple! Parmesan! Silken!
And then, Frank Gannon says in an editorial2
If scientists were to use a more personal and forthright style, it might not only be more readable, but it could also force scientists to take more responsibility for their results and interpretations
Or, put another way
“the possibility could be considered, taking into account various relevant factors, that a modest alteration in the mode of expression could, in due course and after a preliminary and statistically relevant trial period, be phased into the scientific discourse, such as an alteration focusing on the first person, but not exclusively, or a measured change from the passive to the active mode of writing.”
All this ties in rather nicely with my previous rant , Martin Fenner’s new group and Linda Cooper’s recently revitalized weblog .
So, troops, I want to see excitement in your prose. I want to see wild speculation (and referees, take note: But referees also discourage speculative thinking with such withering lines as: “the extrapolations in the discussion are not supported by the data presented.”[2]). I want to be thrilled by your research as I know you are.
I want to see sentences such as Our neural system is therefore an eclectic ensemble of disparate pieces of hardware, which are perfected for solving specialized problems, such as the detection of potentially threatening bilateral vertical symmetry[1] written in actual English.
I also want a pony, but I’m not going to be too greedy.
1 Rodriguez-Esteban & Rzhetsky
2 Gannon
I quite liked that last example sentence (ref 1) — was following it fine and even interested to read on, until I got to the last phrase…”such as the detection of potentially threatening bilateral vertical symmetry”. What on earth can that mean? Sounds scary, but I have no clue. Did the following sentence elucidate? I guess I will just have to be scared of any bilateral vertical symmetry I may develop until some kind person explains to me how to avoid it — maybe even in this comment thread.
Yes Maxine: it meant ‘predators’.
This is a perennial problem, Richard, and there are several solutions, many of which are actively discouraged by those of a traditional mindset.
1. Brevity is a vurtue – keep sentences short;
2. Avoid relative clauses;
3. DAAFU – (Define abbreviations at first use);
4. Don’t use congested and high-falutin’ Latinate words when a demotic Anglo-Saxon-rooted word might be available.
5. Inject some personality into the paper. As an editor, I am enthralled when a paper gives me some sense of how a scientist made a particular discovery, rather than just giving a bald presentation of results.
“I want to be thrilled by your research” – what a great mission statement that would be for a journal.
Granting your wish would require a sea-change in the publishing process. Many journals have deep-rooted house styles, which tend to knock individuality out of formal writing. If there’s going to be a revolution, it’ll start in less formal arenas, probably online.
I’ve mentioned this before, but in answer to Henry’s point (4) a certain (non-NPG) journal of gerat fame used to insist on Latinate words, subbing out anything of Anglo-Saxon or Greek derivation wherever possible.
I fear you’re right, Matt, but Henry seems to be keen on the idea. Should I send my next paper bursting with life and passion to NPG, and hope all the editors share his view?
Well, speaking just for me, Matt’s motto “I want to be thrilled by your research” is very close to how I feel. I receive about 700 new ms each year, of which I have space to publish 35-40. As you can see I reject a lot of mss, many of which are good. What I am looking for is the ms that stirs me at a visceral level; makes me sit up; makes me see the world in a new way.
Hmm, that gremlin has crossed out my words again — was fine in preview.
Woah. It was fine when I first saw it. Spooky.
I was impressed that Maxine had worked out how to use a strike-through tag. It seems I’m relegated to having to be impressed with Richard for block-quoting. It that what those bq.’s are?
Matt says””Many journals have deep-rooted house styles, which tend to knock individuality out of formal writing.”
Hate to break it to you, but Nature (and stables – there’s a pony in there for you, Richard) are one of the few journals that subedit their manuscripts. Most, with budgetary restrictions, just clean up the English as best they can and leave it at that. Style is seldom tampered with – no time.
I was talking with Nick Campbell in the Melbourne office yesterday. I had not realized actually how much manuscript handling and editing NPG does compared with some (most) other learned journals. They rely on full-time researchers doing the editing, and outsource to India (hah) for copy-editing. NPG does it all in-house.
The various journals I worked outsourced copyediting to India as well. Their grasp of English grammar seems mostly superior to your average native speaker.
Actually many (if not all apart from the EMBO titles) of the NPG journals use MacIndia for copyediting. The Nature journals (including Nature) use in-house, staff subeditors (UK term) or copyeditors (US term). It is a very good way to get into journal editing, as many people (including me) started their editing/journalism/publishing careers as a sub (or copy) editor.
The strike-through was a gremlin, not intentional – has gone now. Weird. I imagine it was related to the recent code release that also temporarily affected the ability to break paragraphs.
Sorry to break it to you, but India’s English speakers are native speakers. Just not the same English as yours. You wouldn’t say that Aussies are not native English speakers? Or Yanks? Or Canadians? (Well, maybe you would. Point taken.)
As a reader, one of the things I appreciate highly in Nature journals is the product of what you are calling sub-editing. I like the “house style”; it’s identifiable. I wish that more journals could afford one. I was the only native speaker on a NG paper a little ways back and got to be the liaison with the copy editor; it was a constraining experience and I learned a lot. This is not just brown-nosing. What I liked is that someone cared enough about my results to help us make it as clear as possible to the intended, wide public. There are some skill sets we just don’t have. (I haven’t retained everything either, but perhaps with practice…)
As someone who has had to persuade a call centre technician in India that I am moving house and all I want to do is take my broadband account with me, I am the laughing. Hollow laughing.