Author Essays, Interviews, and Excerpts, History

A Conversation Among the Editors of the American Beginnings, 1500–1900 Series

Titles in the American Beginnings, 1500–1900 series address critical issues in American history from the initial period of European contact through the end of the nineteenth century. The series includes works by senior and junior scholars from a broad array of historical subfields, including politics, labor, race, religion, gender, and finance. In doing so, it facilitates novel interdisciplinary discussions about the practices of power in the American past.

Series editors Hannah Farber and Mark Peterson met with new editor Kathryn Olivarius to discuss her journey as a scholar, the purpose of the academic monograph in today’s publishing environment, and what’s next for the series.


Hannah: Tell us about your journey as a scholar, and what led you to want to be part of “American Beginnings”?

Kathryn: I completed my graduate studies in the UK before joining the Stanford History faculty in 2017. My first book, Necropolis, which explores disease in the American South, was published by Harvard University Press in 2022. Although I grew up in the UK, I’ve loved American history since childhood. The questions being asked—about markets, capital, society, and politics—are truly compelling. I’m especially delighted to be part of “American Beginnings,” as I enjoy being there at the beginning, contributing to projects from their earliest conceptual stages, right through reading chapter drafts, to copy editing. Being involved throughout the process—watching an idea grow from a seed, maybe into a dissertation, and then finally into a book—is incredibly rewarding.

Mark: When you were growing up in the UK, were you taught much American history?

Kathryn: Zero!

Mark: So, in other words, when you came to American history professionally, you didn’t have a heavy legacy of childhood instruction.

Kathryn: None at all. In school, our history curriculum was quite limited to Britain, and really England—we learned about William the Conqueror, the Tudors, the six wives of Henry VIII, then skipped straight to the Industrial Revolution and then it was the Battle of Britain and the Blitz, Blitz, Blitz. When I arrived at college, one of the first history courses I took was John Demos’s “Colonial America.” It was, incidentally, the class in which I met my husband. And I had a wonderful TA—Katherine Mooney, who remains a close friend. Studying colonial New England, in New England, was truly exhilarating and marked my first real immersion into American history at the college level.

Mark: I had forgotten that you both took “Colonial America.”

Kathryn: Hannah, you also took John Demos’s class?

Hannah: Yeah, he supervised my senior thesis.

Kathryn: Oh! Of course!

Mark: [Joking] So, whatever possessed you to take up a non-paying and arduous job as series editor at Chicago Press?

Kathryn: What I love about this series is its commitment not only to producing excellent books, but also to works that challenge prevailing historiographical trends and make bold, ambitious claims. My own interests tend to lean a bit later than yours, Hannah and Mark—more toward the late antebellum period, the Civil War, Reconstruction, and the Gilded Age. I’m eager to see more titles addressing these later phases of early American history. And when it comes to academic monographs, I’m drawn to those that make bold arguments while also attending carefully to craft. A great book offers not just rigorous research but also engaging storytelling. I’ve greatly enjoyed teaching books from this series—most recently Sharon Murphy’s Banking on Slavery –to graduates and undergraduates.

Hannah: What is the purpose of the academic monograph in today’s publishing environment and political climate?

Kathryn: I’m not entirely sure what the future holds—ask me again in a few years! Yet I do believe the monograph remains our central means of communication as scholars, and also with the broader public. Especially for a first book, it’s a demonstration of one’s historical skill, a culmination sometimes of over a decade of thinking, research, and editing.

As a kid in math class, we were always told to “show your work,” and I think great history does much the same: it lays out evidence transparently and elegantly, and builds an informed, carefully organized argument. Even with current trends toward AI-generated content—or the vogue for less perhaps rigorous, more obviously “relevant” non-fiction that invokes history to speak directly to the current moment—I believe the gold standard among historians (and the public) will continue to be a well-written, tightly argued, thoroughly researched book.

Hannah: I’ve grown increasingly appreciative of the academic monograph as a form that isn’t driven by immediate market demands. Popular non-fiction can respond swiftly to contemporary events, offering clear, compelling explanations and conclusions that appeal to a wide audience—and I truly understand the value of that. But when someone devotes years to crafting an academic monograph, the resulting story is often more nuanced, its contexts more unusual, and its findings sometimes counterintuitive or difficult. Such scholarship approaches a kind of truth that other genres rarely reach. The process is slow, sometimes frustrating and costly, and even challenging to read, as authors search for language to express ideas that resist easy articulation. Yet this labor is valuable. When I wrote my book, Underwriters of the United States, I was continually surprised by how much effort went into finding the right words for ideas I thought I understood. It’s an essential part of communicating the complexity that rigorous historical work demands.

Mark: One additional point is that academic monographs can—and ideally should—possess layers of complexity that are rarely found in non-fiction responding to current events. These works often reveal multiple levels of causation or narrative, making them resistant to simple summaries or taglines.

Hannah: How have editors helped you in the past?

Kathryn: Throughout my career, I’ve worked with editors in various capacities, for both articles and books. Good editors offer much more than keeping you on schedule—though that can be important, too! They strive to understand your intentions and help you realize your vision, rather than imposing their own. Good editors are empathetic but also aren’t shy about delivering news that can be difficult to hear.

I’ve been fortunate to work with editors who understand my goals, sometimes even before I fully grasp them myself. I found in writing Necropolis that I didn’t actually know what I was arguing until the very last draft. Sometimes, it’s the process of refining language at the last stage, or hearing an editor reflect back what they think you’re saying, that crystallizes your message.

Hannah: Yes, it’s always an interactive process. Now that we’re beyond the student stage, we must seek out friends, mentors, and editors who can guide us—and in this sense, writing is truly a communal endeavor. How about you Mark? What have editors done for you?

Mark: Well, bailed me out of jail? Ha! All joking aside, with the constitution book I’m finishing now, it passed through several editors at Princeton—as is common in publishing today—but my current editor, Priya Nelson, has been excellent. After receiving feedback from three external reviewers, each offering quite different insights, it was great to work with Priya to sift through their comments and identify the core of what I wanted to express. The editor’s sensibility matters greatly; feeling you can trust and communicate openly is essential.

Finally, what topics would you love to start seeing come across our transom?

Kathryn: My own work is increasingly focused on the Civil War and its aftermath—not just Reconstruction but extending into the Gilded Age and Progressive Eras. At Stanford, I teach the middle segment of our three-part American history survey: the nineteenth century. I found new intellectual excitement in exploring the postbellum era: Greater Reconstruction, the West, capital, Populists and monopoly, mass immigration, labor, environment, railroads and industry—and yes, syphilis, which played a major role in the late nineteenth century. These themes feel fresh, dynamic, and are increasingly resonant in our Second Gilded Age.


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