What Cambridge Taught Me About Publishing

By Theresa Rézeau In 1514, Albrecht Dürer created Melencolia I, an engraving that has puzzled scholars for centuries. Surrounded by the tools of knowledge and creation, its central figure sits in contemplation, suspended between accomplishment and uncertainty. The image has often been interpreted as a reflection on the limits of human knowledge and the frustrations that accompany serious creative work. Despite possessing the instruments needed to build, measure, and understand the world, the figure remains still, caught between effort and outcome. Earlier this year, after submitting The Divine Disrupted to Cambridge University Press, I found myself thinking about that image. In January, I sent my proposal to Mr Alex Wright, Senior Executive Publisher and Head of Humanities at Cambridge University Press. Mr Wright kindly directed the proposal to Dr Beatrice Rehl, the publisher responsible for Art History and Religious Studies. Several months later, in May, I received Dr Rehl’s response. What struck me immediately was the care with which the proposal had been read. She wrote that she had reviewed the project with interest and described it as “a timely book and a lovely introduction to a variety of religious and visual traditions.” For any author, particularly one working across disciplines, such words carry weight. The Divine Disrupted sits at the intersection of art history, theology, visual culture, and cultural criticism. It was encouraging to know that the ambition behind the project had been understood. Yet publishing decisions are rarely determined by merit alone. One of the great misconceptions about publishing is that decisions are based solely on whether a manuscript is good or bad. In reality, publishers must also consider audience, positioning, market expectations, editorial priorities, and how a book fits within their existing programme. A manuscript can be strong and still not be the right fit. This was one of the most valuable lessons I learned from the process. Although Cambridge ultimately decided not to pursue the project, Dr Rehl generously suggested that the book might be better suited to publishers such as Thames & Hudson or Bloomsbury, whose lists often bridge the space between academic scholarship and wider cultural readership. What I received, therefore, was not simply a decision. It was guidance. Publishing history is filled with books that initially struggled to find a home. The lesson is not that every rejected manuscript eventually becomes a success, but that the relationship between quality and publication is rarely straightforward. Every publisher views a project through the lens of its own audience, priorities, editorial vision, and commercial realities. A manuscript may be admired, respected, and even encouraged, yet still find its natural home elsewhere. For authors, artists, and anyone building something meaningful, this distinction matters. Not every closed door is a judgement on the work itself. Sometimes it is simply a signpost pointing elsewhere. The experience reminded me that publishing is often less about whether a book deserves to exist and more about finding the right home for it. Looking back, the response from Cambridge did not diminish my belief in The Divine Disrupted. If anything, it clarified the path ahead. Like the figure in Dürer’s Melencolia I, there are moments in every creative journey when progress feels uncertain. The work is done. The tools have been used. The outcome remains unknown. Yet uncertainty is not failure. It is often the space between completion and discovery. And sometimes, what appears at first to be an ending turns out to be a redirection toward the place where the work was meant to be all along. Publishing Note One of the unexpected gifts of this process has been discovering how many people care about the ideas behind The Divine Disrupted. Conversations with publishers, artists, curators, academics, and readers have reinforced my belief that sacred art remains far more relevant to contemporary life than many assume. The manuscript is complete, the search for the right publishing home continues, and I look forward to sharing further developments with members when the time is right.

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