I wanted to make my scholarly book a truly global book, with authors who represented much of the world. Little did I know at the outset that assembling such a book would mirror the tumultuous world events of the past couple of years.
The project started in October 2008, when I received an e-mail from a commissioning editor at Wiley-Blackwell, inquiring if I would be interested in being involved in a book about the role of parasites as pathogens in finfish farming around the world. This subject may, at first glance, seem to be academically narrow and have little commercial value, but that is not the case. Natural fish stocks are declining, the world's population is expanding, and people need protein. Global aquaculture production will have to double by 2030 to keep pace with demand, according to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations.
In fish farming, as with other types of animal production, diseases can cause sudden, sharp losses of stock, as well as more chronic losses that can eat away at productivity and farmers' profit margins. The parasites can also reduce the commercial value of the farmed fish. Some of the information needed to understand how parasites spread through fish populations and how they could be managed is already available, but it is scattered in journal articles, books focusing on specific geographic areas, and regional texts in a variety of languages. A central resource is needed.
Although I had not planned to pause my own research to put together a book, the invitation from Wiley-Blackwell resonated with many long-held interests. I come from England, have worked in Canada, and spent much of my career commuting between the United States and Germany. I was a consultant for the FAO, where I served as the regional reviewer for aquaculture, with special responsibility for North Africa and the Near East, and coordinated meetings in Egypt and Oman. In addition, I love words, and working with words. The chance to orchestrate such a book was irresistible.
Soon I had a working title: Aquaculture Parasitology: Global Impacts and Management in Finfish. I felt strongly that the way in which the book was to be written was as important as the actual content. If this was really going to be a global synthesis, I wanted my authors to represent their regions, rather than repeating the oft-used format of Western authors writing on behalf of the world.
I wanted eight of the 19 chapters to be regional reviews, each of which would be written by authors from the region. But I knew that would be a challenge. To get started in my search, I printed out a map of the world, and drew in the lines to divide the approximately 190 countries into eight regions, broadly following the divisions used by the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations. In such a way, I hoped the readers would be able to easily learn about the contrasts between parasites in fish farms in China, Asia and the Pacific including Australia, North America, Latin America and the Caribbean, Western Europe, Central and Eastern Europe, the Near East and North Africa, and sub-Saharan Africa. Then I sat and thought about whom I knew in each of those regions who was familiar with parasites, fish farming, and the socioeconomics of the industry, and who could write well, and who would be reliable.
Rather than be intimidated by this enormous task, I started with the easiest part of the work first—asking people I knew before I tackled the regions I knew little about. When I looked at a map of Africa from my desk at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, I was reassured by my familiarity with the countries lining the southern shore of the Mediterranean, yet quickly recognized that much of sub-Saharan Africa was unknown to me. Somehow I needed to find authors in some of the blank spots on my map, yet I did not know internationally recognized fish parasitologists in the parts of the world I knew little about. I was running on faith.
From some international conferences I had attended or helped organize, I had met many fish-parasitology researchers, and from these contacts I formed my first wish list of authors. Most of my e-mail invitations were not only promptly answered, but accepted—much to my joy and relief. A colleague from China, whom I had met in Italy, agreed to be the sole author for the regional review about China, the country that leads the world in aquaculture production. His chapter has come in, and I find it informative and elegantly crafted. A colleague from Russia, whom I had met at conferences in Baltimore and San Francisco, kindly agreed to write about parasites in fish farms in Russia—another big swath on the map. One of my authors was recommended by a Ph.D. student of a colleague in England, reminding me of the importance of connections. As the acceptances came in, and my lead authors found, in turn, colleagues to work with them, I realized that many people were enthusiastic about our project.
As the number of authors and their countries grew, I passed a tipping point where I realized the ambitious idea behind the book was likely to succeed. The project also became deeply personal. My authors and I exchanged messages, not just about parasites and fish, page formats and due dates, but also many other aspects of our lives. Through my author's e-mails, I witnessed the cycles of life, natural disasters, and the reverberations of some historic events. Life doesn't stand still when you are writing a book chapter. Among my authors were people who experienced a tsunami and earthquakes, a bomb blast, and the protests of the Arab world. Several changed continents for new jobs. Some had major health challenges, and I underwent surgery. One of my most respected authors died—an internationally renowned scientist, much admired not only for his research, but also for his grace and humility. His coauthor and I have agreed that his name will remain on the chapter to honor his contribution.
To emphasize the global scope of the authors, the front of the book will contain a photograph, contact information, and one-paragraph biography for each author. My hope is that anyone reading the book will be able to look though the contributors' profiles and see someone they can identify with—someone who looks like them. And maybe someone they can collaborate with.
Orchestrating this book gives me an opportunity to understand different ways of working around the world. There have been good surprises, such as the early delivery of a comprehensive regional review chapter written by eight co-authors. This chapter was well crafted, even though none of the authors had English as their first language. One of my challenges continues to be anticipating the style in which I should communicate with authors, depending upon the recipient and his or her culture. I grapple with how subtle or forthright I should be. The work needs to get done, yet I want to retain harmony and cooperation among my team of authors. I now send out an e-mail newsletter to the authors every couple of months, allowing all of us to stay in contact.
As I continue work on my book, which I hope will come out in 2012, I feel very fortunate to get a lot of support from my authors. Some of my strongest encouragement has come from my most far-flung collaborators, in China, South America, and Australia. Even if their words and grammar still need some polishing, their intention is clear, as my favorite e-mail shows: "Since the work has started, I trust it will be with great ending, no matter how many difficulties or efforts there will be in the process." My global journey in search of a synthesis of current information on parasites in finfish farming has already yielded more than I anticipated: I've reinforced old research networks—and created a new one with my 35 authors from around the globe.
