The New Yorker recently ran an entertaining essay on the
pitfalls of British writers trying to write books set in America. Britishisms (their word, not mine) invariably creep in, says writer James Ledbetter. He cites the
American author Lionel Shriver, who has lived in Britian for many years. In her
most recent book, he says, an American character signs
off a telephone conversation with her sister by deploying a British term of
endearment: 'Bye puppet'
Puppet? Not poppet? British writers reacted
with bemusement and amusement. Had the New Yorker (famous for its assiduous
fact-checking) got it wrong? No, actually, Shriver had written ‘puppet’. So
either she’d picked up a Britishism, put it in the mouth of an American and
mangled it in the process, or she’d invented a new endearment. The book is set
in the future, so that’s possible.
But Shriver is quoted as saying: “My
publishers think I have become some kind of linguistic moron,”
“In truth, I am one of the better sources for
what is and is not British or American usage. However, I do sometimes
become uncertain.”
Well, join the club, Lionel. Anyone writing
about, or in the voice of contemporary British teenagers needs to master a blend
of Ameri-English formed by years and years of watching Friends. ‘Gotten’ is pretty
standard British English usage now, if you’re under a certain age. ‘Do you know
what ‘smores’ are,’ I asked my kids, recently, sure they would not know. I hadn’t
a clue myself. But they knew they were ‘some sort of dessert with chocolate and
biscuits and marshmallows’. They hadn’t eaten them, they’d seen them on TV. And
it’s more than vocabulary. For a lot of young adults, the rhythm of their
speech, owes more to Ross and Rachel than to Eastenders or Coronation Street.
The New Yorker didn’t turn the tables and ask
how American writers get on when they set books in Britain, with British
characters. They certainly didn’t mention the YA series which ethnically
cleansed Whitechapel in London of its Bengali community, and placed an
expensive boarding school there instead.
Lionel Shriver has had much to say recently
about readers and reviewers who complain about cultural appropriation, most
recently in the Spectator. Broadly speaking she deplores those who argue for
more sensitivity towards specific minority groups when they are portrayed in
fiction, and believes that writers should not ever feel constrained and unable
to imagine their way into anyone’s head. Her characters are, in fact, her
puppets and they can be in whatever shape she wants them to be.
I agree with her, I would hate to think that I
could not write as - say -
a mixed-race boy, as I did in Salvage,
and in The Liar’s Handbook. If I
could only write as myself - Jewish, white,
middle-class, middle-aged, British, female – then I’d be very bored, and very
boring. That's not what writing fiction is about for me. If I wanted to write memoir, I'd do just that.
Where we differ is that I think that the
freedom to write as anyone I want to, comes with some responsibilities. One of
those is to try as hard as possible to respect and reflect the world of the
people we write about. The other is to point out, loud and clear, the lack of
BAME and working class people in publishing, from the management of publishing
companies, to prize shortlists, to the authors who get book deals. Unless you acknowledge your own privilege, it’s hard to see how you’d start to imagine the
life of someone without it.
And in a world where cultures are amalgamating
and blending, where we’re all a little confused about which words belong to whom,
where poppets become puppets and the world is full of linguistic morons, then
of course minority groups are going to fear their distinctiveness will become
lost, and they may feel angry and vulnerable and express this with feeling. I felt a little sad to see poppet turn into puppet. How much worse if your words are those of a minority whose difference is denied, and whose prospects are still narrowed and threatened by prejudice?
8 comments:
But Friends is so yesterday.
Agree about wanting to have the freedom to write as who we want to. I've seen a depressing number of blog posts arguing against that, saying that, for example, a white middle class female author just can't write as, say, a POC teenage boy. That seems to be to be depressing, limiting and will do nothing to increase diversity or representation - of course you need to do your research, and get it write, but surely fiction is all about freedom?
Friends is so not yesterday amongst teenagers. Great piece, Keren.
Yep, my teenagers love Friends too. And they say "gotten", though it puts my teeth on edge.
I think one of the most annoying US imports, for which Friends is largely responsible, is "Check this out!" but it seems to fit the me, me, me approach of the Selfie - I won't say generation, as I don't want to stigmatise a whole generation - but section of a generation.
Totally agree, Keren!
This is really interesting, and I agree with you!
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