First published in The Author (Spring 2024 – vol 135.1)

When I introduce myself to authors as an authenticity reader – or what some people call a sensitivity reader or cultural consultant – it provokes one of two reactions. Some writers are curious – they simply do not know what my role in the editorial part of an author’s journey to publication entails. Others have an anxious or even guarded reaction: ‘What do you mean, I’m an insensitive writer?’

Despite how my colleagues and I have been portrayed in the media, we are not wielding pitchforks. Yes, we offer honest feedback when we see lazy tropes or stereotyped characters. That Muslim character being scolded for not wearing a piece of religious clothing? How original! An interrogation at an airport involving a Muslim? Ring any bells?

You could say that I was born into this role. Growing up in Lancashire, I spent many hours holed up reading books, losing myself in their magic and solace while also longing to see someone with a Pakistani family or a Muslim name. Under the stained-glass windows of Accrington Library, I longed for a ‘Hamza’ character. (Not one who was based on a convicted terrorist, complete with hook and eye patch.) But I wasn’t given the gift of seeing myself in stories until the start of my adult life – when, in my first year of reading English at the University of Kent I was shocked to discover a queer South Asian in a book: the mirror held up to me by Karim in Hanif Kureishi’s transformative The Buddha of Suburbia.

It was profoundly moving and joyful for me – to see someone so queer and so unashamedly Brown in the pages of the Faber modern classic. It spurred me to read ferociously, to discover more about how people like me were written. It also undoubtedly inspired the job I do now.

Sensitivity reading is a much-misunderstood part of the publishing process. The press seems to have a warped idea that we have an agenda to gag authors. Instead, we’re on your – the author’s – side, working alongside editor and publisher to bring your work through in its most robust form. And just to be clear, authenticity readers do not have a final say about what words can and cannot go to print. We offer our view, from our own specialist, informed perspectives but the author’s words are ultimately sacrosanct. It is surely imperative, though, that as part of the process of publication authors can respond positively to feedback that is, after all, designed to make the book something to be truly proud of.

I work with small and large publishers, as well as literary agents and the estates of deceased authors. My job is to review written material, at the same point at which a manuscript is often sent to a legal reader or a historical fact-checker. My task is to bring to bear my lived experience – along with my editorial acumen – to help find misrepresentations, inaccuracies or stereotypes, and to suggest how publishers can resolve each issue – that is, to tackle the molehill before it becomes a mountain.

My work strictly pertains to my own identities and lived experiences – including queer narratives, and books relating to the British South Asian diaspora, among others. Let me give an example. I was asked to advise on the representation of a traditional and religious south Asian family in a particular work. Did it feel authentic? I reported that the names of prayers were confused and suggested how this could be rectified. I noted that the book also had the Pakistani family eating an ‘onion bhaji’, when in fact they would refer to the deep-fried fritter as a ‘pakora’.

These are nuances, but misappropriating or misusing culturally specific terms can be problematic. It can make both writer and publisher seem out of touch, and does not do much to help disprove claims that the books industry is filled to the brim with the privileged classes. And given that more authors are writing diverse characters, it is surely worth considering whether any characterisation draws on or adds to a generalisation or stereotype. (And books are not the only medium in which minorities are consistently let down; easy-to-write versions of what should be fully rounded characters are far too prevalent in scripts and television shows too.)

Hostile representations of authenticity readers’ work in the media have often focused on alterations to language. I have to be up to date with sensitivities around words, and these do change over time, but I do not simply put a red marker next to potentially offensive words! Naturally, there’s always the context to consider. If the word is spoken from a character’s mouth, for instance, the reason they use it is clearly relevant – its place in the character’s story arc, if you will. A lot of simultaneous layered thoughts are always at play.

Essentially, the process is not dissimilar to a writer of historical fiction getting their work fact-checked. Imagine Kate Mosse seeking out someone with specialist knowledge of Carcassonne, either someone who lives there or an academic historian.

The cost – financial, reputational and environmental – of books that reach the bound proof stage and miss the mark can be devastating. The opportunities, however, can be just as great. The ultimate goal is to ensure that the reading experience is fuller. And speaking from experience, an author can bring tremendous joy to a reader on the margins of society – by offering fully rounded characters who look, talk, and represent every fibre of our being, in all our flaws and strengths, and in all our human shades.

A few writers have taken umbrage, and some will always resist accepting additional support during the editorial process. But to bring free speech into it, as has been done, seems to me to wilfully misunderstand the role an authenticity reader plays as part of the traditional editorial process. If you don’t exactly trust an editor and are not receptive to working in a partnership with them, then perhaps traditional publishing simply is not for you. And if we live in a world where there is more of a spotlight on injustices, and where we can empower more people to pick up a pen, or find themselves reflected in a book’s pages, then perhaps that also isn’t a bad thing.

The work we do is also not designed to deter authors from writing characters whose backgrounds they do not have lived experience of. I’d love to see more books with diverse characters, written by authors of all stripes. I’d also love to see more authors engage with the question of why there are clear omissions of racialised minorities in so many books. Perhaps we live in more segregated societies than we sometimes like to admit; and isn’t creating a clearer, broader understanding of the world one of the things books are intended to do?

Until there are huge shifts in the workplace, and editorial teams become far more inclusive, publishers will need to use authenticity readers. I am incredibly proud of what we do. We enrich the publishing process – building understanding and, I hope, helping to cultivate the broadest readership possible. And I believe that we – writers, publishers, all creatives – have a duty to ensure that our readers are reflected in an authentic manner, without reducing anyone to a stereotype.

I can’t wait for the first hijab-wearing, dragon-slaying middle-grade book to come my way, so I can consult my rolodex and find the person with lived-experience of that. Would that hijab be tucked in as a gust of wind blows? If so, how would it be tied up?