Nobody ever said that bound galleys were meant to be perfect

I've often heard reviewers, librarians, and even teens grumble about the mistakes they've discovered in bound galleys or advanced readers copies: typos, misspellings, missing indexes, out-of-order citations—you name it. (In my most recent book, on Robert F. Kennedy, some readers complained that the galley didn't include any photographs.) Of course, it's true that reviewers need to be alert, skeptical, and meticulous. But there's a good reason why the cover of every bound galley clearly states "CHECK THIS AGAINST THE FINAL BOOK."

I'm sorry to raise my voice, but there's nothing more frustrating to an author or publisher than to read a review that expresses misgivings over something that's already been corrected. Rather than grouse, I thought it might be helpful to explain how bound galleys fit into the publishing process.

As an author, I begin, of course, by writing a manuscript. My spell-check program buzzes. When I'm done, I share my story with a few trusted readers. After I've incorporated some of their suggestions, the manuscript is as good as I can make it. Then, it's time for my editor to read it. She comments mainly on the big issues—for instance, do my ideas flow logically or are they disjointed, is the story compelling or am I in danger of losing the reader's interest, have I proven my assertions or are there things I've neglected to explain? My editor fixes mistakes in spelling, syntax, and grammar. But that's not her primary concern.

Once the manuscript has been edited, it's turned over to a copy editor to catch any remaining errors. Now, in an ideal world, the manuscript wouldn't be copyedited until every single photo, caption, permission, credit, map, and bit of back matter has been tracked down. But, in reality, especially with complex projects, a manuscript is usually copyedited while its author is waiting for "just one more great photo that I found yesterday, and they promised to send me next week... or the following week." (Grab me sometime, and I'll tell you which last-minute images were added to Up Close: Robert F. Kennedy [Viking, 2007].)

At this point, the publisher is faced with a dilemma: Should it go ahead and release a partially completed galley, or should it wait until everything has been finalized? If the publishing house decides on the former course of action, then readers get a "sneak preview" of a book months before it's published. There's also another advantage: some of the bound galleys will eventually be returned to the author, editor, copy editor, and, sometimes, a separate fact-checker, giving them ample time to smooth out any remaining glitches in the book.

On the other hand, if a publisher decides to wait until the text is completely finished before sending out a bound galley, the manuscript will go through a second (or even a third or fourth) round of scrutiny. If that's the case, everything—from the dedication and the last line of the bibliography to the final page numbers and index—must be ready before a bound galley is made. Although that's commendable, it does have a downside: the lead time between the galley and the book's publication shrinks drastically, which essentially defeats the purpose of issuing an early version.

So folks, if you're eager to take an early peek at an author's latest work, you need to accept that it's probably going to be a flawed galley. Hold your reviews until you've seen the hardcover book or a final set of galleys. Publishers aren't perfect, and they're not always as painstakingly meticulous as I've described here. We've all let things slip by that we should have caught. Still, I urge you not to say something in print that you haven't confirmed. After all, isn't that exactly what you expect from an author?