A couple of years ago, I was preparing new editions of two of my older but still in-demand books. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Routledge had republished both titles in 2017 without checking whether it had legal permission to do so.

In fact, it didn¡¯t have that permission. I held the rights to all but a 1991 new introduction to a second edition of one of the books ¨C copyright for which I shared with the publisher, Transaction.

What had happened was emblematic of a 21st-century development that is central to the ongoing transformation of publishing but is unrecognised other than by a few intellectual property rights attorneys: the acquisition by large international conglomerate publishers of smaller and defunct publishing houses ¨C and their book lists.

It seems that it is not unusual for these giant publishers to both republish and create new editions of books on those lists without sufficiently checking ¨C if they check at all ¨C that acquisition of their original publishers actually entails acquisition of the relevant copyrights. In my case, Transaction had been and merged into its Routledge imprint (acquired in 1998).

̽»¨ÊÓƵ

After my discovery, I consulted my intellectual property rights attorney. She told me to demand that Routledge immediately remove its unauthorised editions from print and sales and provide me with a formal statement recognising my existing legal copyrights and reverting them to me only.

The publisher was slow to respond. Sporadic acknowledgements came from editors in different divisions, each supposedly ¡°seeking advice¡± and requesting my ¡°patience¡±. For more than two months, I was bounced from one editor to another, with long silences, failure to acknowledge my communications as requested and more than a little unprofessional rudeness.

̽»¨ÊÓƵ

Finally, I was given what I¡¯d asked for ¨C although the responsible editor claimed that this was ¡°not because there is any legal obligation to do so, but as a courtesy in an effort to resolve the matter and address your concerns¡±.

In other words, the company refused to accept responsibility for breaching my copyright. Would it be so tardy and blas¨¦ if it found that someone was breaching one of its own copyrights?

Nor are these the only books of mine that have been reprinted without my permission. Earlier this year, I was surprised to receive a royalty statement (giving me no money) from SpringerNature for a book of essays that I co-edited with Robert Arnove of Indiana University and originally published with Plenum Press in 1987.

We had published a new edition with new material and a new copyright in 2008 with Transaction. This second edition was later republished by Taylor & Francis when it bought Transaction, and Taylor & Francis now holds the copyright ¨C and is paying us royalties annually.

An earlier iteration of SpringerNature had and, in doing so, acquired the first, no longer copyrighted edition. Before republishing it in 2022, SpringerNature had not checked the book¡¯s current status so did not know that we had published the new edition with a different publisher. Nor had it sent any annual royalty statement or any other notification until this April ¨C let alone pay us any royalties. And, even then, it only sent the statement to me: Robert received nothing.

̽»¨ÊÓƵ

While the Routledge cases were outright violations of intellectual property rights, this case was more a breach of common professional courtesy and respect to authors whose work publishers claim to represent. But it was an egregious breach, and I was determined to seek redress.

I demanded that SpringerNature revert all rights to Robert and me and remove the book from print and sales. The company was even slower than Routledge had been to respond, however. After several emails, I received a brief acknowledgement that my request was received and was referred to the rights and royalties departments, but I had no further response for more than six weeks despite regular requests and the intervention of an editor at Palgrave Macmillan (also now a SpringerNature division) who had published another of my books.

Finally, a member of the company¡¯s office of legal counsel responded. He actually apologised. He was courteous. He read and responded to what I wrote. Although he made it clear that SpringerNature would not state that its actions directly violated my intellectual property rights, he coordinated a month-long effort to return all rights to me, remove the book from print and sales and prepare a formal ¡°settlement¡± with a payment.

̽»¨ÊÓƵ

I am not permitted to report the terms of the signed agreement. Suffice to say that I insisted on several major revisions before I signed on Robert¡¯s and my behalf and accepted the payment, which we shared.

While this story ultimately ended reasonably well, I still find these incidents shocking. Almost all that I learned to expect regarding intellectual property rights over my first four decades of scholarly publishing, involving more than 30 books, now seems completely out of date.

There are many new lessons for published authors in these episodes. In sum: beware. Know your rights. Regularly check on the status of all your published books: search online for the title and check the current lists of your earlier books¡¯ publishers.

And tell your graduate students to do the same when they begin publishing. After all, standards are probably only going to get worse as publishing evolves ever further from a conscientious cottage industry to a textbook case of monopoly capitalism¡¯s perils.

̽»¨ÊÓƵ

Harvey J. Graff is professor emeritus of English and history, Ohio eminent scholar in literacy studies and an academy professor at Ohio State University. Recent books include (2024) and Reconstructing the ¡°Uni-versity¡±: From the Ashes of the ¡°Multi- and Mega-versity¡± to the Futures of Higher Education, scheduled for 2 October 2025.