Global Citizens by Keren David

Two very cheering bookish things happened to me this week.  

First, I was proud to play a small role in the magnificent auction organised by my wonderful friend Fiona Dunbar -  Authors for Refugees. 
Fiona, known among her many friends for her warm and generous heart, threw herself into trying to make life better for the thousands of refugees fleeing conflict and oppression. 
She went to Greece as a volunteer, helping to build a home for refugees. Then she worked hard to set up the auction, organise a website and cajole as many authors, agents, editors and others to donate their books, their time and their expertise. The auction raised more than £22,000 and yet again -  after auctions for Japan and for the Philippines  - showed the strength of the writing community when we come together to do good stuff. 

Second, I was rather startled to receive a very public apology, not just to me, but to the whole Jewish community. This came from Jo, a book blogger, who I know to be a very thoughtful and hard-working person who reviews, interviews and themes her blog in ways to make her readers think. Last year she reviewed my book This is Not a Love Story, and expressed frustration at my use of 'Jewish' words, which she didn't understand and had to look up, it got in the way of her enjoyment of the book. 
Last week, Jo had read a blog post about diversity issues in reviewing, and realised that her original review could be construed as racist and offensive, because it presumed that a minority group should educate and translate for the majority. Jo therefore took the courageous act of calling herself out as a racist, apologising in public, and changing the wording of the actual review. 

Now, I didn't find Jo's review offensive, although I did notice that she only mentioned the 'Jewish' words - some Hebrew, some Yiddish, some slang -  and not the Dutch ones (the book is set in Amsterdam). I would never have called her racist or antisemitic. In fact her review prompted me to write a post about the language that I used in the book, and I was glad to write it. I was even gladder to be free to write and publish a book which included Jewish characters and Jewish words, and hopefully did it in a way that bust some assumptions and stereotypes for readers.  


These two things were particularly cheering because, like many other people, I was shocked by Theresa May's attack on the idea of being a global citizen this week. I'm sure Mrs May didn't mean to sound offensive, but she certainly managed to offend me. My kids were pupils at an international school, they were brought up to be proud of all their identities. English, British, Jewish, Amsterdammers, Europeans and global citizens. Here they are (front row) at the school's Global Village day 2006, representing England and the UK in the annual parade of nations.  

  It was chilling to hear our Prime Minister speak against the values of internationalism and understanding that an international school celebrates, not just on global village day, but every day. 

So thank you Fiona and thank you Jo! May your actions speak louder than Mrs May's words. 

The F Word - Anna Wilson

Fellow Sassie, Fiona Dunbar, recently posted the following question on Facebook:

“To all my friends who write for kids/young teens (particularly girls): do you feel enough is being done in fiction to address fat/thin stereotypes? With all the cultural pressure to conform to certain ideals, is it our responsibility to counter that – and if so, how? *Can* it be done?”

I quickly became engrossed in reading all the comments that were posted under Fiona’s question. I had more than a passing interest for, as well as being a children’s writer, I have two young teenage children of my own who are becoming more and more aware of what society is saying to them. My daughter, in particular, seems to equate “skinny” with “perfection”.

The Facebook debate did, however, remind me that I had once been found guilty of describing a character as a “big fat greedy wotsit”. I remember thinking at the time that it had not occurred to me for an instant that what I had written would be offensive, because the words were spoken by a seven-year-old character in that careless, thoughtless way that children sometimes do speak.

I did, however, edit the comment once it was pointed out to me that if you are a child struggling with eating disorders (which sadly affect children at a much earlier stage in life than they used to) then seeing the word “fat” used in a negative context can be very damaging, as it reinforces the stereotype that “fat” equals “greedy” or “lazy” or “unattractive” or just plain “bad”.

It was pointed out in the Facebook feed that we have, in fact, come a long way and that “we are better than we used to be”. Lord of the Flies was quoted as an example of how not to stereotype large children. I decided to go back and re-read a section of Lord of the Flies, thinking that I would surely not find it offensive, telling myself that the book is a product of a particular time and the characters who gang up on Piggy are hardly portrayed as heroes. However, I have to admit that reading the story again after a 25-year gap, Golding’s descriptions of Piggy did make me squirm:

“The naked crooks of his knees were plump . . . He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat . . .

‘Can’t catch me breath. I was the only boy at our school what had asthma,’ said the fat boy with a touch of pride. ‘And I’ve been wearing specs since I was three.’”

He is referred to as “the fat boy” until he admits that his nickname was “Piggy” and that is the name that sticks for the rest of the book. We never find out his real name. There is no doubt that the fact he is fat and wears glasses equates to him being unappealing and weak.

There is much debate at the moment as to what extent we in children’s publishing should be the “guardians at the gate” on various topics, including that of body image. Should we watch what we write, or does this restrict our creativity? Is the story the thing, or do we have a responsibility? Many publishers increasingly feel that we do. We publish our books under the clear imprimatur of “children’s publishing”, and that in itself says something important: that children are clearly looking for and need something different from adults. Otherwise, why bother separating the two markets?

Children are vulnerable and impressionable, we know that. As a parent I am constantly worrying about and trying to monitor what they watch on television, see on the internet and in video games, so should it come as any surprise that books, and the words in those books, need to be chosen carefully too?

Or are we going too far when we start to worry about editing our characters’ thoughts, appearances and dialogue? Is it in fact ridiculous to load such a simple three-letter word so heavily with negative connotations, thereby driving it into the arena of “issues”? As Caitlin Moran says in How To Be A Woman:

“In the last two generations, [‘fat’ has] become a furiously overloaded word – in a conversation, when the word ‘fat’ appears, it often alarms people, like a siren going off.’

So is the answer to avoid the issue of body image altogether in our writing? In Fiona’s Facebook conversation, writer Dawn Finch commented, “I try not to include any physical description unless it’s genuinely important to the plot.” She said that she likes to leave it to the reader to decide how the characters look based on how other characters respond to them. It is true that there can be nothing more irritating than being told someone is attractive or ugly because they are fat/thin/blond/tall/blue-eyed. (I recently read Michael Frayn’s Skios and found it incredibly annoying to be repeatedly told that the lead romantic male role was gorgeous and had blue eyes and “floppy blond hair”. Personally that immediately put me in mind of Boris Johnson, so from that moment on I was certainly not going to imagine him as attractive, I’m afraid.)

Inbali Iserles, another Sassie, said that “making it an issue is not a good thing”, while writer Sophia Bennett pointed out that even when books are addressing particular stereotypes, the covers rarely do anything to back this up, and in some cases actively do the opposite. She quoted Cathy Cassidy’s Ginger Snaps and Chris Higgins’ A Perfect 10 as examples of books whose covers perhaps even belie the content.

So what to do? Maybe we should at least not make “skinny” the default position for the beautiful and popular. If we are writing a romance, for example, should we go out of our way to make the romantic lead a larger person? If so, how do we do this without it “becoming an issue” as Inbali warns us against doing? And if we do all this, what about the book jackets? Maybe this, in fact, is where the redressing of the balance should start.

(With thanks to Fiona for letting me borrow her FB question!)

Anna Wilson

www.annawilson.co.uk

Video Interview with Keren David and Fiona Dunbar