It is strongly linked
in my mind with the peer-review process due to a historical accident.
I was at a conference a while ago and saw a presentation by a very
enthusiastic, articulate, intelligent student early in their PhD.
Unfortunately, the main characterisation method they were using was
totally unsuitable for the system they were investigating, and the
mechanism they were using to explain the chemistry that was happening
(previously published in their group) was completely bogus. I made
the deduction that their supervisor was clueless. It didn't seem
either kind or appropriate to point these things out in the question
period, so I thought I would try and catch up with them later at the
conference. I missed them there, so when I got home I thought I would
try to find them on the interwebz. The only trace of the student I
could find was on Goodreads, so I made a Goodreads account and tried
to contact them that way. But they obviously weren't paying attention
to their Goodreads account, or else had a policy of not replying to
private messages from people whose avatar was a picture of a bunny
with a pancake on its head. So that didn't work either. But I ended
up with a Goodreads account sitting there not doing anything.
There may be a
happy ending to this story, in that I ended up writing to their
supervisor with my concerns. I say may, because in the
understandable reaction of most people to smart-aleck random pedants,
he never wrote me back.
Eventually, I can't
remember why, I wandered idly back to Goodreads and had a look
around. There is a wealth of information about any particular book in
Goodreads: you can see how many people have rated it, their average
rating from 1 to 5 stars, and read their individual reviews on the
book, many of which are very detailed and intelligent; you can in turn 'like' the reviews if you find them helpful,
and explore other reviews the same reviewers have made to let you
discount whatever biases they will invariably have. So, vastly more
information than the reader of an academic paper can ever get from
Bibliometrics. And vastly more information - often - than the writer
of an academic paper can get from Peer-Review.
I don't have any
ironclad mappings between Goodreads and Peer-Review, or Goodreads and
the Bibliometrics Circus, but peering at them pairwise reveals
similar pitfalls.
I'll start out with
something fairly positive. I read this book not knowing it was an
internet phenomenon. My wife recommended it, and she shies away from
anything that is too popular, so she wouldn't have recommended it if
she had known it was an internet phenomenon. It has a few rough
edges, a few slow bits, but it is really pretty good. However, since
it was an internet phenomenon, it has more reviews, and more positive
reviews, than a lot of really top-notch stuff. Why is it an
internet phenomenon? It hit a niche that had just opened. High-flying
sci-fi authors of the 90s and 00s sell their e-books for practically
the same price as the dead tree ones. Older high-flying sci-fi
authors have pathetically limited e-book back catalogues. There is a
huge mass of cheap self-published sci-fi that ... needs work. The
critical niche, what sci-fi readers wanted, was at least halfway
decent cheap new sci-fi e-books. This book was one of very few of
those: so off it went. The same sort of thing happens with scientific
publications all the time: it's not the fundamental importance of the research, or how well-argued it is, but how many
other researchers are looking for something halfway decent in that
niche at that particular moment in time.
Conversely, this book
was very heavily excerpted and promoted on a website that gets a huge
number of hits and is politically influential in the Old Country. Yet
the only review of it is by - er - me. Sure, we can say, the
demographic of Goodreads users must not overlap much with the demographic
of 'National Review Online' readers. Maybe, pulling a number off of
Goodreads isn't the best way to compare the 'influence' of a book.
That seems pretty obvious.
But... isn't that the
way bean-counters approach journal impact when they try to pull out
one number to compare how oncologists use oncology journals, art
historians use art history journals, organic chemists use organic
chemistry journals? There are more things you can do with a book than
write a Goodreads review about it, and there are more things you can
do with a journal article than cite it.
Now for an ugly Peer
Review analogy.
Take this book. The
top-rated community review, with 20 likes, is from someone who admits
that they haven't read it. But they have a claque of mates who
resent other things the author has written, and they are all out to get
him.
I don't think I've ever
had an academic reviewer anything like this. But if I did, they would
be anonymous. And they wouldn't admit that they hadn't
actually read my manuscript.
Or maybe they would
admit it, but no one would care. This example isn't anywhere near as
bad, but it did happen to me. A colleague and I submitted a review
article to a journal with an impact factor in the 1.5-2.0 range. It
was rejected out of hand on the basis of one reviewer, who quite
rightly caned us over some serious mistakes we made in the
introductory section. Which is good, that's how it's supposed to
work. Except, this reviewer then said - before they got to the bit where (I
hope) we actually knew what we were talking about: 'I can't be
bothered reading any more of this' and gave up. We patched the
paper up and sent it to another journal and it has had 13 citations
in the past year. So the first journal kind of missed out.
[UPDATE: As of January 2015, it had 112 citations, and was the most cited paper over the period 2008-2013 of any academic in my School.]
[UPDATE: As of January 2015, it had 112 citations, and was the most cited paper over the period 2008-2013 of any academic in my School.]
I am sure I could peer
into the murky tea-leaves of Goodreads some more and come up with all
sorts of other similarities. But that's enough for now. Maybe
instead I should run some numbers from Goodreads through a
spreadsheet and add some educational/bibliometric jargon and write a
paper about it. Hmm.
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