by
lmh » Thu Jul 25, 2013 12:07 pm
Only yesterday someone brought me an LC-MS method where the authors have specified the exact instrument they used, but not the column or solvent-system.
Yes, there are two quite separate things that aggravate me horrendously. (1) Methods that are so incomplete you can't repeat them. Really it's terrible reviewing and editing, but a lot of editors seem to care only about the page-count, and whether the article looks super-attractive; chemistry papers don't seem to feel that chromatography is worth description. (2) Methods that don't work.
It's really hard to deal with methods that don't work, because there's no obvious way to mark a published faulty method as faulty. Quite often there's a divergence: a group of researchers pass a paper-copy of their method from Mother to Son, and Father to Daughter, and they all cite the original publication where the first work was done, but no one actually uses the method described in that first paper, and no one ever goes back to look at it - they're all using a grubby photocopy of a Word document that's long since lost.
Once something's been published, it's set in stone. If the initial authors made a huge mess with their solvent preparation, or used a column so ancient that it no longer operated even vaguely like it should have done, then everyone still cites that original paper for ever more, even though it's wrong wrong wrong.
Another thing that happens is that people repeat something 6 times because the first 5 times it goes wrong (i.e. doesn't work as they expected), so you end up with a method/set of results that reflect one experiment (which only "worked" because someone made a mistake) rather than 5 experiments that "failed" (because actually the hypothesis was wrong).
All this, of course, is before we even start to discuss corner-cutting under pressure, and outright fraud.
I'm utterly convinced that if there were a big red button that would make all papers vanish if they contain serious mistaken, unrepeatable data, and were we to press it, librarians would die in the inrush of air into the vast vacuums created. Shelves would clear themselves. Most libaries would be reduced to a handful of bound volumes (containing my work, of course!)