Tag Archives: social media

  • Hashtags and Rabbit Holes: Confessions of an Academic Writer

    To kick off the University Press Week Blog Tour (November 12-17), our Social Media Specialist, Tanya Rohrmoser, reflects on the many ways in which social media can be used as a vehicle for communicating research in the arts and humanities.

    “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” – Alexander Pope

    “I want you to take a Post-It and write, ‘Don’t write like an academic.’” said my new Digital Communications professor. “Stick it on your desk, your wall, your computer. Anywhere you’re working. And don’t forget it.”

    I blinked. But, ever the conscientious student, I slowly wrote it out in my notebook. (Yes, in ink, on paper.) I underlined it twice.

    As a mature student, I had enrolled in Humber College’s Professional Writing & Communications post-graduate program. I came armed with 6 years’ experience as a teaching assistant in Brock University’s English department, and a Master’s degree which had focused on eighteenth- and nineteenth-century British literature and gender studies. I loved studying that period, where manicured sentences wound long and lush as a garden path, heroic couplets were the chosen form of intellectuals, and you could stand on a Richardson novel to change a light bulb. Sadly, no one ever did beat down my door after graduation to discuss Judith Butler or Mr. Darcy’s masculine performance in Pride and Prejudice. So here I sat in this classroom, fluorescent lights buzzing, debt accruing, determined to bridge the distance between the ivory tower and the landscape beyond.

    And, over the next eight months, my writing changed. Write for screens! Know your audience! Drop those adjectives! Bullet points! I ducked red pens and track changes, as my clauses fell away like petticoats. Watched as my murdered darlings dropped breathless to the floor, certain I’d never recover from the sacrifice. In time, I learned to step over them.

    But if I bristled at changing my writing, I positively shut down when I was told to sign up for Twitter. As part of a generation that has recently been dubbed the “Xennials,” I grew up with the luxury of picking and choosing the parts of digital life in which I participated – and Twitter wasn’t one of them. I dutifully claimed my handle, but certainly didn’t see how I would ever need it in the workplace.

    Is a tweet different than a heroic couplet? Yes, that’s a silly question. And no, it’s not silly at all. Alexander Pope may not have constrained himself to 280 characters, but he did know how to pack a nice, salty punch into two short lines. I made my peace with the fact that a tweet is a similar burst of information, deliberately chosen to display its author’s worldview. As with any writing, both form and content are debated. Some are written poorly. Some are politically charged. Some will send you careening down a bot-peppered rabbit hole into chaos. Some are profound, impactful, and memorable.

    When finally, happily, I was hired by the Journals Division of the University of Toronto Press, it was as their Digital Marketing Coordinator, where one of the largest parts of my job was to run their social media accounts. And I was pleased to learn along the way that Alexander Pope and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu both have hashtags, and that a “Swiftie” not only refers to songstress Taylor, but satirist Jonathan.

    I slid back into the academic world like a hand finds its glove. I knew this world. I loved this world. What was different now was that I knew how to promote this world. And I also knew that, in some ways, it would be a challenge. Part of each day was spent finding contributors on social media in order to market their articles and gain a wider reach. I searched for the handles of their university departments. I tracked down and promoted the work of grad students. Though they are often quite sparing with their words, I tried to get scholars talking on Twitter, and I discovered an active, robust academic community that was happily leaning in to it, and using social media to their advantage.

    And, in perhaps an even odder twist, wrung from the student who once turned her nose up at the prospect of having a Twitter account, I’m now the Social Media Specialist for UTP’s Book Publishing Division.

    As humanities majors, we’re told we have a wide variety of skills; we just need to market them. But we’re rarely taught how, and many of us are more comfortable curled up with a good book than we are singing our own praises. One week into my job at UTP, I went home to my own academic, a quiet historian who’s writing his dissertation, and told him to make sure he uses social media to promote his research. That when the time comes to apply for one of those coveted academic positions, to show not only that he can write, teach, and produce, but that he can help promote the department on its digital platforms. Useful advice? Academics on hiring committees would know more than I.

    Is the debate about writing for social media similar to the heated debates about the potential dangers of the novel when it first appeared? Poetic license with the sonnet? The modern, post-Victorian aesthetic?

    Today, I saw a man reach out to another we follow on Twitter: “It grieves me that I’ve had to degrade myself to contact you over Twitter. Is there really no other way to reach you?” I trust that by this point you know I understand the sentiment, but here is the truth, the raw truth for those of us who, as author Tim Bowling puts it, are “dragging the bloodied pelt of the twentieth century” behind us: social media is simply an exchange. A hand reaching out across a shrinking globe to create and participate in community. How does Alice not fall down the rabbit hole? If I ever find out, I’ll let you know. Sometimes I feel like I’m leasing space down there.

    But here is what I also know to be true, as the academic world shifts shape into something new: there is a way to marry the two, and still retain the integrity and traditions of the former.

    Last year, I was in Washington at the American Historical Association meeting, and my colleague was attending the Modern Language Association convention in New York. As I followed the conference hashtags, what struck me was just how many academics were reaching out to each other in kind and positive ways. During the worst of the January storms, there were offers of child-minding services for presenters if daycares were closed, promises to post grad student papers online if they couldn’t attend their sessions, and gentle reminders to tenured professors that a drink and a chat with a vulnerable adjunct can go a long way.

    Can you fall down the rabbit hole, Alice? God help you, yes.

    But you can also find support in an online community that will help you find and market your research, provide career advice, and offer opportunities to form new collaborations – often with a little humour thrown in for good measure. You just need to make sure you’re opening the Twitter handle to the right door.

    To continue on Day One of the University Press Week Blog Tour, check out posts by these other fine university presses:

    MIT Press
    Blog: https://mitpress.mit.edu/blog
    Twitter: @MITPress

    Athabasca University Press
    Blog: http://www.aupressblog.ca/
    Twitter: @au_press

    Rutgers University Press
    Blog: https://www.rutgersuniversitypress.org/category/news/
    Twitter: @RutgersUPress

    Yale University Press
    Blog: http://blog.yalebooks.com/
    Twitter: @yalepress

    Duke University Press
    Blog: https://dukeupress.wordpress.com/2018/11/09/how-partnerships-with-museums-help-build-a-strong-art-list
    Twitter: @DukePress

    University of Minnesota Press
    Blog: uminnpressblog.com
    Twitter: @UMinnPress

    Thank you for supporting university press publishing!

  • Crisis Communication in Canada

    To mark the publication this fall of Crisis Communication in Canada, author Duncan Koerber reflects on how crisis management and communication have changed in the digital age. He also comments on the importance for Canadian students of having Canadian content that they can relate to when studying crises in the media. In the midst of the #MeToo movement, his commentary on the Jian Ghomeshi case is especially relevant.

    For Instructors: To request an exam copy of Crisis Communication in Canada for an upcoming course, send us an email at requests@utphighereducation.com.

    When I was in the middle of writing my new book, Crisis Communication in Canada, a major public crisis hit a famous radio host. Being one of the first major social media crises in Canadian history, it was the perfect case study for the book. The person in crisis was CBC radio host, author, and celebrity Jian Ghomeshi.

    I followed the case from the first news to Ghomeshi’s infamous Facebook post to the post-mortem accounts of Ghomeshi’s trial, in which he was found not guilty of sexual assault. Ghomeshi’s case was interesting because while he was eventually acquitted, it represented the downfall of a favourite son who failed in his crisis communication—an excellent lesson for students.

    When I started teaching crisis communication in 2011, I could find only a handful of scholarly cases with a Canadian angle. What issues were uniquely Canadian in this field? I wasn’t sure. This meant my students were reading about Tiger Woods’ domestic assault, the Chicago Tylenol case, and the faux pas of southern US politician Strom Thurmond. But in every class, students brought in uniquely Canadian cases for discussion and debate. Crisis Communication in Canada brings together and emphasizes the study of these Canadian cases to help students work through what went right and wrong, with an eye on our own Canadian issues.

    The Ghomeshi case also speaks to an important thread in my book about social media, which is a growing topic of analysis in the field. After years of studying crisis communication, I argue in the book that the social media crisis could be the defining type of our time. I show how these crises develop and how to use social media in prevention and response.

    That’s why the early chapters focus first on just what a crisis is—if a student doesn’t know what a crisis is, he or she can’t prevent or respond to it, after all. In the past, crises tended to be defined as large events that disrupted corporations (product failures, oil spills, employee violence) or damaged cities (hurricanes, earthquakes, emergencies). Now, in addition to these crises, we seem to have an abundance of new crises rooted in words posted online. That is, many people, famous or not, write the wrong things on Twitter, and they lose their livelihoods or even face violent retribution. But who decides what is wrong? Mediated communities with certain values. Crisis Communication in Canada provides students with the theoretical background to think more broadly about crises occurring in our Digital Age.

    The book also critiques common crisis communication tactics. Jian Ghomeshi tried to use digital communication—a Facebook post right at the start of his crisis—to explain his side of the story. He said the anonymous woman who charged him with sexual assault was a jilted ex-lover. But his public post, shared by thousands, opened up the possibility of counter-narratives through Facebook and Twitter and blogs.

    People immediately countered Ghomeshi’s story, and this made the crisis far worse for him. Getting ahead of the narrative, as the Ghomeshi case showed, doesn’t always work in this hyper-mediated world where other voices can provide a strong counterpoint. This kind of analysis in Crisis Communication in Canada helps students question common wisdom—such as “one should always get ahead of the narrative”—and build new crisis communication theory in the process.

    Duncan Koerber has taught media studies, communication theory, and writing at a number of universities in the Toronto area. His articles on media and journalism history, writing studies, and crisis communication have appeared in a number of journals including the Canadian Journal of Communication, Public Relations Review, the Journal of Canadian Studies, Journalism History, and the Canadian Journal of Media Studies.

  • Anthropology Matters

    Author Shirley A. Fedorak discusses the changes to the new edition of Anthropology Matters and how they are grounded in a need to make anthropology relevant to today's students. 

    Anthropology MattersMy former students at the University of Saskatchewan were the inspiration for Anthropology Matters. They asked questions, difficult questions, about the world around them and what role anthropology could play in solving or at least mitigating social, political, economic, and religious problems. I noted they were not that interested in small-scale cultures, except as a starting point, and this was when I realized anthropology was losing its relevance in the modern world. I set off to discover where the discipline was still relevant and where anthropology could and should become relevant.

    Most of the topics in this new edition of Anthropology Matters are global in nature, and some of them originated from my personal and professional experiences in the three countries I have lived in since leaving Canada.

    I am grateful that the second edition of Anthropology Matters was so well received, but in this third edition of Anthropology Matters I felt it necessary to bring more of the Middle Eastern world into the text. Three areas stood out: sectarianism, contract slavery, and veiling.

    Sectarianism was rife in the two years (2014-2016) I lived in Beirut, Lebanon. It is an extremely damaging system that permeates the everyday lives of Muslim people. My key informants made this point time and again. They live in fear, yet without ties to their sect (Shia, Sunni, or Druze) they cannot survive in Lebanese society. I experienced some restrictions as I worked with my informants and on at least one occasion I was discretely accused of being a spy. The most frustrating part of my research was not being able to use material that might identify my informants and endanger their lives.

    Modern-day slavery is an issue I have wanted to investigate for years and it became the topic of a new chapter in Anthropology Matters. The daily abuse and exploitation of domestic workers I witnessed in Lebanon spurred me on, although I also included material on contract slavery in Los Angeles, California, child slavery and child soldiers in Africa, and human trafficking in Canada and Thailand.

    These two topics deal with serious problems that are not the sole domain of the Middle East, but I am concerned that some readers will feel this justifies their media-shaped negative perceptions of Middle Easterners. The chapter on purdah and veiling takes a different approach, and despite many of the misconceptions held in the West, veiling is a positive cultural tradition in most Muslim countries. This popular chapter has been in the book since the first edition, but I have enriched the discussion with personal observations and narratives from one of the wisest women I have ever known. Her insights are based on many years of reflection and the reality of being a Muslim woman living in a diverse Muslim country.

    The third edition of Anthropology Matters is not simply an update. The global situation is fluid and the issues examined can and do change. Hence, with a couple of exceptions, all of the chapters have been updated and many have been reworked to include new sections. For example, social media has grown increasingly powerful since the second edition, but not necessarily as a forum for overthrowing corrupt governments. The emphasis in the chapter is now on the effect social media, such as Facebook, is having on culture. Keeping with the power and influence of social media, I have included a brief discussion on jihadists employing the internet to recruit people to their cause.

    Choosing what chapters must go in order to make room for new chapters is an agonizing task. My secret wish is that the “lost” chapters from the first and second editions will somehow reappear in the future.

    The first chapter in the text sets the stage for the study of anthropology and introduces the question of ethics in fieldwork. The following two chapters offer examples of anthropology at work: the role of anthropologists in design and technology environments, featuring Genevieve Bell’s work at Intel, and linguistic anthropologists preserving and revitalizing endangered languages. The second section of the book contains nine socially-engaged topics, often from a cross-cultural perspective. Gender concerns are at the forefront in several of the chapters; female circumcision, ideal body image, veiling, and same-sex marriage are all major chapters.

    The theme of this and earlier editions of Anthropology Matters is global citizenship. The issue-based questions are designed to encourage young people to become global citizens by expanding their understanding of the global story. I strongly feel that anthropology stands at the threshold between misconceptions about people and places and real knowledge and understanding. As an educator, I have an obligation to present information that encourages readers to think beyond what they have been told or heard in the media. This is particularly true of the new chapter on conflict and climate displaced persons, which I set up as a moral dilemma. More than any other topic, this one demands that readers consider their role as global citizens. I also raised the question of etymology: are pejorative terms such as “migrant” used to deflect from the catastrophic nature of the transnational flow of human beings, and to cast suspicion on their motives and intentions? These chapters set the tone and the basis for inquiry, but more often than not, open up more questions rather than present definitive answers. My hope is that students become more reflective, able to process and analyze information and see through hyperbole, fake news, and hidden agendas. Now, more than ever before, these skills are desperately needed.

    To further stimulate discourse on ethical questions, I added an Issues Box to each chapter. These boxes illustrate a particular point not directly addressed in the chapter. One example is the “Should we free the slaves?” contested moral question in the chapter on modern-day slavery. Another is “Is Islamophobia justified?” in the chapter on displaced persons. In keeping with the theme of this book, most of the Questions for Consideration at the end of each chapter encourage creative and multi-layered thinking. The third edition of Anthropology Matters also includes a downloadable instructor’s manual and test bank.

    The purpose and use of this text is flexible; instructors might use it to replace a traditional textbook or as an additional reader to enhance student understanding of current issues. Anthropology Matters can also become the core text for a course in global issues and anthropology.

    Writing a book is an exhilarating experience. My own understanding of the global stage has greatly expanded on this journey, and for me, this is the major benefit of researching and writing about how anthropology matters. I look forward to your feedback on the third edition of Anthropology Matters and any suggestions you may have for topics to include in the next edition.

    Shirley A. Fedorak has taught at the University of Saskatchewan and the American College of Cairo. She is the author of a number of textbooks including Global Issues: A Cross-Cultural Perspective (2013) and Pop Culture: The Culture of Everyday Life (2009). She now lives in Penang, Malaysia where she continues to write.

  • Why Reading History Matters

    Since the beginning of the most recent Israeli/Palestinian crisis, my social media feeds have become a disheartening list of opinions. Many of these opinions are unbalanced, knee-jerk responses to whatever “side” the author or poster subscribes to at that particular moment. The hatred behind these postings is alarming.

    Assassination of EuropeThis past year, I had the privilege of working with one of the most prolific historians on European, Jewish, and Middle Eastern history: Howard M. Sachar. In his forthcoming book, The Assassination of Europe, Sachar explores how key assassinations between 1918 and 1942 hurled Europe into the maelstrom of World War II. When I initially read the manuscript, three thoughts crossed my mind: first, why is it so easy to hate? Second, why is hate so powerful? And lastly, I was reminded that hate can be very dangerous.

    The Assassination of Europe describes one particular act borne out of hate: political assassinations. Europe, after World War I, believed that it could fix itself. After all, it had the experience and the political and economic leadership to repair the racial, ethnic, and religious hatreds that tore it apart in the first place. However, as Sachar writes, hatred was more powerful than European arrogance:

    The glowering hatreds that engendered the late war—Germans against Slavs, Roman Catholics against Eastern Orthodox, Gentiles against Jews, poor against rich, conquerors against conquered—were neither trivial nor susceptible to assuagement either before or after the armistices of 1918. Rather, the demons survived and intensified. If they were incapable of wreaking their havoc in the immediate aftermath of the postwar “peace” conferences, there were other, equally functional paths to “rectification” and revenge.

    One of these “equally functional paths to rectification and revenge” was the silencing of moderate voices—often with bullets—by hate-filled extremists in Germany, Italy, Eastern Europe, and Austria. Their removal from power led to the rise of Hitler and Mussolini among others. And we know where they led the world. Today, on the seventy-fifth anniversary of the outbreak of World War II, reflecting on this is crucial.

    We have all just lived through a summer filled with hate. A decade ago, students may have been able to avoid the minute-by-minute reports of devastation in Gaza, dead Israeli teenagers, or the beheadings of American journalists, but not today. Their Facebook and Twitter feeds don’t give them much respite. Many of them, just like many of us, have been overwhelmed by the opinions on social media and given in to their emotions. They have taken sides, and sometimes when people take sides, hate creeps in.

    Sachar’s book is a terrifying and violent lesson in what happens when hate creeps in. Given what has happened in the last few months and what is likely to keep happening, there is something of a moral obligation for educators to counter the often thoughtless opinions expressed on social media. If you are a professor teaching a course in modern European history and you assign a basic textbook, I would suggest that you replace the chapters in that textbook that deal with the years between 1918 and 1942 with Sachar’s book. Your students will appreciate the break from the conventional text. Or, if you frequently assign more popular histories by such authors as Robert Service, Ian Kershaw, Michael Marrus, Primo Levi, or Eli Wiesel, assign The Assassination of Europe as well.

    After your students have read the book, ask them what it has taught them. Although most of your students will not become professional historians, some will become lawyers, policy analysts, and community leaders. Most of them will become parents. The Assassination of Europe is a history lesson, and a necessary reminder that hate is not only powerful but also murderous.

    Reading books like The Assassination of Europe is a key first step in stopping the current side-taking that dominates discussion of current events on social media. I know personally of what I speak. Years ago, as an impressionable, Jewish female entrenched in the North American Reform Jewish community, I took sides, and my posts reflected that side. And I hated. But then I started to read books like The Assassination of Europe to remind myself of the power and dangers of hate. Today, I avoid extremist opinion on social media and when I do post, it is in support of peace. As Howard Sachar educated me, so can he educate your students.

    -Natalie Fingerhut, History Editor

  • The World of Academic Book Marketing

    The Higher Education Division of UTP is quickly approaching its fifth anniversary, and in advance of this hallmark, we will be contributing monthly blog postings on the purpose and various functions of our division. Our first five years have been set amidst a background of rapidly changing technologies and shifts in the needs of teachers and scholars, and we would like to contribute our voices to the wider conversation. To carry on the discussion, our Marketing Manager, Anna Maria Del Col, discusses how we market books in the Higher Education Division.

    Exactly ten years ago today, I started my career in academic publishing. I was working for Broadview Press, a little indie publisher known for its beautiful classroom editions of previously out-of-print “bestselling” novels like The Beetle and Bug-Jargal (both of which I highly recommend). I was armed with a master’s degree in English lit and I was not deterred by the fact that our press was run out of the attic of our VP’s home, or by the fact that my first day consisted of a three-hour marketing meeting about tablecloths (for conference book displays, not for meals). This was publishing. And, as it turned out, this was book marketing at its core. I was enamoured.

    Ten years later, a lot has changed. While academic publishers probably still argue to some extent about tablecloths, we now also argue about open access, MOOCs, DRM, metadata, ebook pricing models, corporate mergers (e.g. “Random Penguin”), the death of the bookstore, open textbook legislation, and where we will all end up when Amazon finally takes over the entire industry (see these handy infographics from 2011 and 2012).

    Broadview Press was, in many ways, an early victim of these now prevalent issues. In 2008, approximately five years into my career in academic publishing, Broadview was split in half and a huge portion of its backlist—and its staff—were purchased by the University of Toronto Press. Based on geography, job description, and various sorts of allegiances, I made the move to UTP to help form the new Higher Education Division.

    As marketing manager, I immediately tasked myself with writing the “story” of our new division, which you can still read under the “Our Mandate” portion of our website. Of course, this story includes phrases like “meet the changing needs of teaching and scholarship in North America,” “strive to be recognized as a first alternative to larger textbook publishers,” and “partner with instructors and scholars.” These may sound like jargon, and perhaps they are, but I fully believe that we have an opportunity as part of a university press to speak to many of the issues faced by higher education and by the publishing industry—both in our words and in our actions. In an age where instructors are more and more hesitant about assigning textbooks and students are less and less willing or able to afford them, shouldn’t a not-for-profit university press with a dedicated higher education team take the forefront?

    So, for the past five years, we have been working to achieve all of the goals laid out in our very nicely worded mandate. Our editors have actively acquired the kinds of books that we see as lacking in the higher education market today: books with a point of view that can contribute to scholarship in a given discipline while also prompting students to think critically and ask questions. Not your standard textbooks. Not your standard textbook prices, either (more on textbook pricing in next month’s blog posting).

    In sales and marketing, we have done our best to support the work that our editors (and ultimately, our authors) have provided us. It’s no secret, at least in Canada, that the University of Toronto Press has suffered in the past from a reputation for lacklustre marketing of its books. In the five years that we have been at UTP, though, this reputation has changed dramatically. Working with our colleagues in UTP’s Scholarly Publishing and Journals divisions, we have undertaken fairly extensive and rigorous rebranding projects, website and catalogue redesign processes (these are seemingly ongoing), and we have attacked all of the areas that twenty-first-century book publishers are constantly told they should attack: emarketing, social media, integration of traditional and online marketing, SEO, improved metadata, etc. Add to that our radical increases in advertising dollars spent, printed promotional materials, number of conferences attended, emails written, and the thousands of in-person visits that our sales reps make each year on campuses across North America and it’s clear that we are going the distance.

    In our division, we also try to go beyond. In academic publishing, that generally means building and participating in communities of instructors and students. Because the majority of us have advanced degrees in the humanities and social sciences, we are not far removed from those who end up teaching from and using our textbooks and we share a lot of the same passions. This makes “marketing” to these communities just seem like common sense and, well, fun. Here are two examples:

    Promoting The Viking Age in Kalamazoo, Michigan:

    To outsiders, the International Congress on Medieval Studies, held annually at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo, might not make much sense. But to over 3,000 medieval historians, it is the highlight of the year. This community of scholars supports both the Higher Education and Scholarly divisions of UTP and we have outrageous amounts of fun selling books to them in Kalamazoo. For the past few years, we have released new Viking comics at the ICMS, originally to promote The Viking Age: A Reader, edited by Angus A. Somerville and R. Andrew McDonald, but now just to feed the yearly demand for new comics. This community of scholars (which includes grad students) also eagerly anticipates our year-round themed quizzes, book swag, and recently produced activity sheets.

    Promoting thoughtful pedagogy online:

    Late last year, we launched the Teaching Culture blog, which is quickly growing into a community of anthropologists who are interested in sharing strategies, news, and innovations in both teaching and publishing in the discipline. Whether sharing a syllabus on “Zombies and the Anthropology of the Undead” or tweeting about The Object Formerly Known as the Textbook, Teaching Culture moves us beyond the book, and provides a much needed forum for anthropologists. Other publishers are now starting to do the same in various disciplines, and we’re excited to be at the forefront of this print-plus innovation and to be a part of this community.

    Of course, these kinds of projects are not possible without the energy, ideas, and will of our authors. In contrast with much larger textbook publishers, who seem to focus more and more these days on obtaining that elusive student dollar (flyers and posters in university bookstores across North America confirm this), we have focused more on securing the right kinds of authors and tapping into their already-established academic communities. Our editors are constantly on the hunt for the “ideal” UTP Higher Ed author—which usually means first and foremost a passion for teaching—and we echo those efforts in our sales and marketing efforts. Instead of flooding the market with unsolicited exam copies of new and unchanged editions of books every year, we instead look very closely at course descriptions, syllabi, and teaching interests before approaching an instructor with a book suggestion—usually by email, and where possible in person. The emphasis is always on the course being taught and what is needed to make that course successful. Here is just one more example:

    Promoting The Democratic Imagination online:

    Last fall we launched a website to support the publication of The Democratic Imagination by James Cairns and Alan Sears. This book was already in the works when the Arab Spring, Occupy movement, and Quebec student protests arose, and it became clear that instructors would benefit from extra material that tied the book’s core themes and concepts to what was going on in the world. The authors provided classroom activities and course planning ideas, and the site continues to grow and evolve based on the energy and recommendations of the authors and their supporting community of activists, students, and professors.

    So, while marketing managers in the world of academic publishing should still make sure that books make it to conferences on time, and that they have book stands on which to lean and tablecloths to cover bare table legs, there is so much more going on right now as the industry finds its way through flux. I am pleased to be part of it, and I look forward to what the next ten years will bring.

    -Anna Maria Del Col, Marketing Manager

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