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About forty years ago,
from the 1960s
onward, ‘multicutural’ books have been a mandatory category in any library
in the developed countries of the world.
At the time the change set in, it was cause for celebration among
educationists, children’s publishers, authors and illustrators because what
it implied was that the market was opening to books from other cultures.
Until then, the flow of books had always been from west to east – mainly
from the native English-speaking world to the rest of the world. Simply put,
from the colonisers to the colonised. Now at last, the flow would be
reversed, making for a more democratic distribution of books. The world – at
least the developed world – seemed poised for a silent revolution where
books would cross borders. Children’s literature in the developed countries,
which had always engaged with social issues and concerns, would now reflect
authentic voices from multiple cultures, fostering a genuine understanding
of differences.
Twenty years on,
concerted efforts by publishers, educationists and policy-makers brought
about some dramatic changes. Most publishers’ lists – in the developed
world, that is – began to feature books about other cultures, both fiction
and non-fiction. More and more authors and illustrators of different colour
and nationalities were publishing books.
Most books acquired a multicultural cast of characters.
Picture books began to reflect culturally
distinctive, ethnic styles of illustration. Names of people and places, once
considered ‘odd’ and unfamiliar were no longer seen as being only exotic and
unpronounceable.
The publishing world had opened up and was no longer
‘white’ dominated – or so it seemed.
Ten years back, when
Tulika entered the world of international children’s publishing, we were
confident that our books reflecting the contemporary cultural reality of
India would, while addressing the needs of Indian children, offer a
culturally distinctive range of books to English-speaking children
everywhere. We were also confident that given the focus on multicultural
books, there would be interest in translations of our books into European
languages, as we were among the first specialised children’s publishers to
emerge from this part of the world. We were, I must admit, starry-eyed about
being part of a progressive and liberal culture that western children’s
literature reflected. While the colonial experience had left India with an
education system that stifled all creativity and energy in children’s
literature, the socio-economic circumstances of the colonisers had created
conditions for the growth of a vibrant body of children’s literature in
their countries. Some of that reached us and many of us grew up reading
nothing else but books from the west. And we loved it! Like all colonised
countries, we too had only the western model to measure our efforts against,
particularly in children’s publishing.
A couple of international
book fairs and interactions with international publishers soon dispelled our
illusions. We realised that multicultural publishing was not about ‘crossing
borders’ but about creating new ones – wider and more diffused, but borders
nevertheless. For books from one culture to find acceptance in another, it
had to fit into the pre-conceived notions of that other. Anything else was
dismissed as being too difficult and unfamiliar, too ‘region-specific’.
The reality, then, is that the focus on
multicultural publishing has not translated into authentic and inclusive
literature from all cultures. The reality is also that the
parameters of what is acceptable in multicultural publishing are set by big,
successful, western publishing houses – the rest of the world must follow
unquestioningly.
Interestingly, a similar situation is reflected within
India too, with historical and socio-political factors adding their own
complex dimensions. India is a large
country of diverse landscapes and climates, where over 1500 languages are
spoken by more than 4500 ethnic groups, representing a mix of racial types
that have evolved over thousands of years, and practising many ancient religions broken into innumerable
sects and cults. It was against such a backdrop that the British created, in
the mid-nineteenth century, an administrative system and a centralised exam
and textbook-oriented education system that could work only by promoting a
pan-Indian, monolithic culture. This excluded the cultural experiences of a
vast majority of the people. The
over-arching, unified ‘Indian’ culture actually, finally, represented only
the culture of the elite classes. The
ruling classes, first the British and then the Indian, maintained
hierarchies and power equations in society by creating powerful cultural
stereotypes. All this was done primarily through the education system.
The Indian Freedom
Movement too used the concept of a pan-Indian culture in its struggle
against British imperialism. This was a historic imperative and was used
imaginatively and successfully by the leaders of the freedom struggle.
Unfortunately the unity-in-diversity theme
continues to be the basis of the education children receive in India even
today, nearly sixty years after winning political independence from the
British.
And when this theme takes on
a simplistic, didactic and moralizing tone in the course of being
transmitted to children, the results are deeply damaging.
The disconnect between the education system and
the reality of vastly different childhoods has posed different sets of
problems at every juncture of modern Indian history. Today, when identities
of caste, class and religion are under tremendous stress, a monolithic
pan-Indian culture only further divides and boxes in people. We see the
repercussions of this phenomenon in every sphere – political, social,
cultural, economical.
India, often referred to as many Indias, is in
many ways a microcosm of the world. Given the pluralistic nature of Indian
society, multiculturalism is a way of life and has been for many centuries.
And like in other multicultural societies, market and media forces have
heightened pressures and tensions between groups belonging to different
groups. In a developing nation with a vast population, the
divide between the rich and the poor, the
literate and the non-literate, the information-rich and the
information-poor, creates new and dangerous kinds of social pressures. The
resulting social and cultural ferment impacts on childhood in deep-rooted
ways. Children grow up in a matrix of actual
events, items of news, the orality of myths, the fantasy of cinema
and the soapy social reality of television. The cultural stereotypes that
emerge from these are reinforced through a rigid education system. In such a
context children’s literature offers a valuable space for alternative
narratives — narratives that will help children rethink their cultural
identities and break free of linguistic and regional insularities as they
grow up.
But does this really happen? Do we understand the
cultural reality that children are growing up in? Are we even aware
that children are growing up in a particular cultural context?
The
question that confronts us as publishers of children’s books in India is: when we create books for children, which children do we address?
The middle and upper middle class English-speaking children who go to school
in cities and towns? Rural children who go to one-room, no-roof shacks with
one teacher who almost never turns up? Working children who attend part time
schools? Children who are discriminated against blatantly because of their
gender or caste? And what of the children who lie outside the pale of
education, or even the possibility of education?
The discrimination against the large majority of
underprivileged children in the education system begins with their
invisibility in the texts they encounter in school. And if they are visible
they are grossly misrepresented. Seen in this context, the definition of
multiculturalism as an effort to reflect the real world of children from
different backgrounds, or at least helping children find their own space in
books, takes on a much more challenging meaning.
Tulika’s effort over the past few years has been
to present through texts and pictures in (at present) eight different
languages, the different realities of children and young people across
India. Through folk and contemporary stories, myths and legends, fiction,
non-fiction and poetry, our books give children images of a pluralistic,
diverse, multilingual India and therefore of the world. Oral folk genres
like songs, stories, proverbs and riddles, and the arts and crafts that
pervade every aspect of Indian life, create verbal and non-verbal
environments that shape childhood experiences. In the largely non-literate
societies in India, these experiences bring people together despite their
many differences. The challenge to us as publishers is to create books that
reflect both the uniqueness of cultural expressions as well as the universal
elements in them.
The problem here is that such books go against
what is popularly accepted as Indian in India as well as outside it. They do
not conform to notions of what is Indian, certainly not in the world of
children’s books. When narratives are not linear and simple in the accepted
western way of storytelling, they are seen as too complex and confusing for
children. When the English language is used in the way it is spoken with all
its distinctive Indianisms and sprinkled with words in the local language,
it is seen as being difficult for children to follow.
The power of words
lies in the nuances of their use which is again very cultural. But what
seems to be expected of multicultural books is a standardisation in the use
of language. Even names of places on the map are avoided if they are not
familiar in the west. For instance, Tulika’s book, Andamans Boy,
about a boy’s adventures on the Andaman islands, was changed to Keine
Angst vor Krokodilen (No fear of crocodiles) in its German translation,
as the Andamans was considered too remote a place for children to relate to!
(It took the devastation of the recent tsunami for it to become, familiar, thanks to
the wide media coverage.) Illustrations had to conform too, to
popular traditional styles to be accepted as Indian. The decorative and the
ornate, along the lines of miniature style paintings, are familiar and
acceptable. The contemporary and graphic style of illustration used in one
of our most popular books, Ekki Dokki, was difficult to accept
because it was not seen as ‘Indian’. ‘We love the story for its Indian
flavour but not the illustrations as they are not typically Indian’, was the
response from western publishers.
Cultural biases are not confined to picture books
and fiction but extend to information books too, as we discovered. Tulika’s
book The Bhopal Gas Tragedy, on the world’s worst industrial
disaster, was not thought appropriate by a leading publishing house in the
UK which had a special list of titles about largescale human tragedies like
the Holocaust and the Hisroshima bombing. The location of the tragedy
obviously influenced the selection of a title for publishing.
It is not so
much the lack of sensitivity on the part of publishers as market dictates
and educational policies which determines where they put their money.
Looking at books about India popular in the west,
it is not difficult to understand the resistance to books that challenge
familiar notions. The books are most often published in the west as part of
a publisher’s multicultural list. Care is taken to see that the names are
not too difficult to pronounce and story lines not too complex.
Regional and
linguistic references are left out as it is believed they will confuse
children. Retellings of folk stories and religious myths are shorn of all
their multi-layered complexities and quirks. Popular festivals reinforce
stereotypical images of a pan-Indian lifestyle. Contemporary stories are
often about urban middle-class India. Non-fiction titles about India tend to
take a tourist approach with photographs showing little girls and boys in
traditional clothes, and typical festivals and performances, never quite
managing to move far from the image of the land of elephants and snake
charmers. Such books, written without passion or knowledge and reinforcing
stereotypes, only further widens the us-and-them-gap in young readers’
minds.
For us in India it is difficult to accept the
argument that children will not respond to the unfamiliar and the unknown
because in pre and post-independent India a majority of the educated middle
class grew up reading books from the west. The trend continues despite the
Indian books in the market. Not just books in English, but translations of
many European, Russian and Chinese language books were available to Indian
readers even in the eighteenth century. The ability to accept and enjoy the
unfamiliar world of books is perhaps an affirmation of India's plurality. Or
so we thought — but things have changed dramatically in India over the
last ten years. The pervasiveness of stereotypical cultural narratives that
dominate the media and the educational system subsumes the reality of
pluralism that has shaped Indian society over thousands of years.
A globalised, market-driven book industry has
created a market dominated by bestsellers on the one hand and remaindered
books on the other, especially in children’s publishing. Children’s books
from multinational publishing houses, with their television and film tie-ins
and merchandising, flood the market. The hunger for narrative in children is
hugely exploited by an insensitive culture industry.
Giant toy and media
businesses continue to tap children’s need for narrative fantasies with
unerring accuracy. Shorn of any relevant cultural relevance for most
children, but with powerful appeal, the narratives have been completely globalised. And in countries like India where children’s book publishing as
a specialized area is just emerging, creating culturally-rooted books that
offer children an imaginative alternative presents a huge challenge.
Paradoxically, as Tulika’s experience has shown,
a new and chaotic market also creates the space for innovation and
creativity!
Tulika has just published a translation of the Swedish classic
Pippi Longstocking in Hindi, a book that is likely to be read by
children in Hindi-medium schools who are completely unfamiliar with the
Swedish cultural mileu. The market for Indian children’s books is as yet not
dominated by strait-jacketed trends as in the west; trends reflected in
comments like – “this colour will not work on the cover, change the blue to
pink”, or “wonderful text and pictures, but black and white won’t sell in
our market.” Pippi Lambemoze sports a bright red cover with the picture of
an obviously Scandinavian child sprawled across it; her adventures take
place in quite ‘unfamiliar’ contexts, but we do not expect that to put
readers off in any way.
Having said all this and despite the limitations
of multicultural publishing, there is a high degree of awareness about
children’s books in the west because of the relatively higher status of
children’s literature, and the academic credibility it enjoys. The high
levels of skill and commitment of authors, illustrators and publishers have
created a number of books about India, which are probably better in terms of
production and design and very often in the writing and illustration than
books published in India. But with all that they manage to be little more
than well packaged products. The catch, as I
mentioned before, is that these books created for the readers of that
country, have a formulaic approach because of the need to conform to
accepted notions of different cultures.
In the last couple of years, with the
sudden spurt in children’s publishing, a lot of talented writers and
illustrators are emerging in India too. But will these authentic voices be
heard internationally?
The problem we face — and I include people
committed to children’s books in every country — is that the cultural
stereotypes perpetuated by the media and the market are so dominant that it
is difficult for even the most sensitive among us to recognise them as
stereotypes! Only a willingness to set aside our pre-conceived notions will
open our minds to books that reflect completely different ways of telling
stories in words and pictures. The paradox
is that it is the adults who engage with children’s literature in different
ways who decide what children will be familiar and comfortable with. But
children themselves, being
‘literalists of the imagination’, cross borders and categories freely if we
allow them to.
Dominant images of culture perpetuate a view of
culture as a seamless, continuous,
unchanging, unified entity. Everyday reality contradicts this notion every
step of the way. Yet we seek out those very images to transmit to children
through books and other media The
challenge before us is to break away from our smug certainties, of either a
homogenizing unity or unbridgeable diversities, and lead children into an
understanding that the world is not made up of exclusive communities or
nationalities, but of interconnected differences.
Multiculturalism, then,
isn’t a special category, or a special theme or a special view of history.
It is a way of life we all share across borders.
This brings us to the kind of books children need
— books that explore language and images in new and exciting ways; books
that reflect contemporary realities in all their ethnic, cultural and
linguistic diversity; books with text and pictures that reach out to the
rest of the world with the confidence of cultural distinctiveness; books
that include previously excluded cultural experiences of the marginalized
and question class, caste and gender hierarchies; books in all languages and
in translations; and above all books that
can be active socialising agents without compromising on creative integrity.
Children’s literature opens up challenging
possibilities to create a fair and just world through good books. And good
books are being written all the time in different places, in different
languages and different voices. The key is to find those books and promote
them as what they are — good books — and not as special categories of
multicultural books. The key is to break the seal and enjoy the experience
of reading.
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