Choosing a Protagonist from Another Culture

 

Last week I explained why I chose a Japanese-American protagonist for my first middle-grade historical novel. But that protagonist was half Caucasian and grew up in a white neighborhood with a culture not that different from mine, as contrasted to the protagonist in my second middle-grade book.

Here is the blurb for Creating Esther.

Twelve-year-old Ishkode loves here life on an Ojibwe reservation, but it is 1895 and the old ways are disappearing. Can a boarding school education help her fight back, or will it destroy everything she believes in?

Using a Native American protagonist was not an easy decision. I had no experience with the culture or reservation life, and I knew it would be a struggle to create an authentic character. But I wanted to tell the tragic story of how the boarding schools “civilized” the Indians, and no other perspective seemed to work.

I mentioned in the last post that Kirby Larson used a white protagonist in his book about the Japanese-American incarceration and did it very well. Fortunately, there were a number of people like his protagonist and her father who sensed the injustice and sympathized with the Japanese-Americans.

That wasn’t true for the Native-American boarding school experience. Memoirs written by white teachers capture a very different feeling than the ones written by Native Americans. Even those teachers who truly cared about the children had the mistaken belief that they were doing what was best for them by taking away their culture and making them “white.” So even though I could have put a white teacher’s daughter among the Native American students, it would have been unrealistic to give her the necessary understanding of and sympathy for her classmates’ plight.

Creating Esther was a very hard book to write because of my Native American protagonist, but I felt I had no choice. After extensive research, I did the best I could, and I believe I was successful. If not, I apologize.

But sometimes you have to take the risk.

__________

Creating Esther is available in paperback and Kindle versions from Amazon and in paperback from Barnes & Noble.

Writing from Researched Experience

 

I’m about as WASP as you can get, but the protagonist of my first middle-grade book, Desert Jewels, is not. Here’s the blurb.

Twelve-year-old Emi Katayama is half Japanese, but she is all American. Then Japan attacks Pearl Harbor, and she suddenly becomes the enemy.

So why did I write this book? The Japanese-American incarceration is a part of our history that often gets ignored, and I wanted to change that. All American children should learn the bad parts of their country’s history as well as the good ones. If our children understand the past, they are less likely to repeat it.

I could have used a white protagonist who lives outside the camp, as Kirby Larson did very effectively in the Dear America book The Fences Between Us, but I wanted to get closer than that. I did, however, give my protagonist a Swedish-American mother and placed Emi in a “white” neighborhood in Berkeley rather than in San Francisco’s Japantown. That allowed Emi to share some of my culture.

It also gave the book a different perspective than most. Even 1/16 Japanese blood was enough to send a child to the camps, and, while it was rare, there were a handful of Caucasian woman in each camp who had chosen to join their children or husbands there. None of the books I read dealt with this experience.

Still, Emi is half Japanese and I have no Japanese blood. I have also never experienced life in an internment camp. So what qualified me to write the story?

Research is key. Since I didn’t live through the experience, my research relied significantly on the voices of those Japanese Americans who had. Autobiographies, letters, newspapers, and “as told to” accounts are better than history books for learning what people actually experienced and how they reacted emotionally.

I was fortunate to have good materials available when writing Desert Jewels. Emi follows in the footsteps of Yoshiko Uchida, who lived in Berkeley, was initially incarcerated at Tanforan Assembly Center, and was then sent to Topaz (officially known as the Central Utah Relocation Center). Hers was one of several memoirs by people who traveled that same path. In addition, the camp newspapers from Tanforan and Topaz are available online. So I had a wealth of information to use when trying to create an authentic experience for the reader.

Next week I’ll talk about Creating Esther and my thought process in choosing a Native American protagonist to tell that story.

__________

Desert Jewels is available in paperback and Kindle versions from Amazon and in paperback from Barnes & Noble.

Writing Characters from Other Cultures

 

The Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) has been presenting digital workshops free to members and archiving them for one month. I recently listened to “Writing Identity Elements Into Our Stories” with authors S.K. Ali, David Bowles, and Linda Sue Park. It was described as “how to accurately and respectfully write identity elements into our stories,” and I was hoping it would help with writing characters outside my culture. When I listened to it, however, the theme could be better described as “how to write a story from your own culture.”

Faithful readers of this blog know that I’ve published two middle-grade historicals outside of my culture. The first, Desert Jewels, is about a Japanese-American girl living in an internment camp during World War II. The other, Creating Esther, tells the story of a Native American girl who leaves her reservation in the later 1800s to attend a boarding school. My next two blog posts will explain why I chose to write those books and why I picked POV characters from outside my culture. But I want to direct this post to statements made during the workshop.

A preliminary comment, however. Other than in this paragraph, I won’t be using the word “race.” There is only one race—the human race—and we all share it. What we don’t all share are the various ancestries, heritages, cultural experiences, and skin colors within the human race. With that out of the way, here are my comments from the SCBWI workshop.

I really appreciated S.K. Ali’s reminder that no “culture” is unified but that practices and experiences vary widely within the larger group. Even though she grew up Muslim, she had to be sensitive to these differences when writing about her Muslim protagonist. And her insight applies no matter what group your character belongs to.

In recent years, the “Own Voices” movement has been encouraging authors from “marginalized” groups to write about characters who belong to that group. I liked the way Linda Sue Park reframed it during the workshop, saying she prefers the term “lived experience.” This better reflects S.K. Ali’s comments about the many cultures within a culture.

The one place the “lived experience” concept breaks down, however, is in historical fiction. I could use my “own voice” for writing about a German immigrant in the 1800s, but it doesn’t qualify as lived experience because my ancestors’ lives were nothing like mine. Imagine eating beans for days on end while waiting for the crops that may or may not come in, or caring for a seriously ill family member on your own because the nearest doctor was one hundred miles away and your only way to reach him required the use of a farm horse built for heavy work rather than speed. Or imagine standing in a dirty, noisy factory for twelve hours a day without any safety measures to keep you from losing an arm. The only way I can understand these experiences is through extensive research, which is also the way I learn about protagonists with a different heritage.

The third member of the panel, David Bowles, compared his audience to people sitting around a campfire. The ones in the inner circle share his heritage, and these are the ones he writes for.

I write for a different audience. I think it is important for “privileged white kids” to understand what others have gone through and may still be experiencing. I commend David Bowles for writing for the inner circle, which I probably couldn’t reach. But it’s important to write for the outer circle, too. That was how I envisioned my role when writing Desert Jewels and Creating Esther.

Next week I’ll talk more about Desert Jewels and why I chose to use a Japanese-American protagonist in that book.

__________

Desert Jewels is available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle versions at this link [The Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) has been presenting digital workshops free to members and archiving them for one month. I recently listened to “Writing Identity Elements Into Our Stories” with authors S.K. Ali, David Bowles, and Linda Sue Park. It was described as “how to accurately and respectfully write identity elements into our stories,” and I was hoping it would help with writing characters outside my culture. When I listened to it, however, the theme could be better described as “how to write a story from your own culture.”

Faithful readers of this blog know that I’ve published two middle-grade historicals outside of my culture. The first, Desert Jewels, is about a Japanese-American girl living in an internment camp during World War II. The other, Creating Esther, tells the story of a Native American girl who leaves her reservation in the later 1800s to attend a boarding school. My next two blog posts will explain why I chose to write those books and why I picked POV characters from outside my culture. But I want to direct this post to statements made during the workshop.

A preliminary comment, however. Other than in this paragraph, I won’t be using the word “race.” There is only one race—the human race—and we all share it. What we don’t all share are the various ancestries, heritages, cultural experiences, and skin colors within the human race. With that out of the way, here are my comments from the SCBWI workshop.

I really appreciated S.K. Ali’s reminder that no “culture” is unified but that practices and experiences vary widely within the larger group. Even though she grew up Muslim, she had to be sensitive to these differences when writing about her Muslim protagonist. And her insight applies no matter what group your character belongs to.

In recent years, the “Own Voices” movement has been encouraging authors from “marginalized” groups to write about characters who belong to that group. I liked the way Linda Sue Park reframed it during the workshop, saying she prefers the term “lived experience.” This better reflects S.K. Ali’s comments about the many cultures within a culture.

The one place the “lived experience” concept breaks down, however, is in historical fiction. I could use my “own voice” for writing about a German immigrant in the 1800s, but it doesn’t qualify as lived experience because my ancestors’ lives were nothing like mine. Imagine eating beans for days on end while waiting for the crops that may or may not come in, or caring for a seriously ill family member on your own because the nearest doctor was one hundred miles away and your only way to reach him required the use of a farm horse built for heavy work rather than speed. Or imagine standing in a dirty, noisy factory for twelve hours a day without any safety measures to keep you from losing an arm. The only way I can understand these experiences is through extensive research, which is also the way I learn about protagonists with a different heritage.

The third member of the panel, David Bowles, compared his audience to people sitting around a campfire. The ones in the inner circle share his heritage, and these are the ones he writes for.

I write for a different audience. I think it is important for “privileged white kids” to understand what others have gone through and may still be experiencing. I commend David Bowles for writing for the inner circle, which I probably couldn’t reach. But it’s important to write for the outer circle, too. That was how I envisioned my role when writing Desert Jewels and Creating Esther.

Next week I’ll talk more about Desert Jewels and why I chose to use a Japanese-American protagonist in that book.

__________

Desert Jewels is available in paperback and Kindle versions from Amazon and in paperback from Barnes & Noble.

Creating Esther is available in paperback and Kindle versions from Amazon and in paperback from Barnes & Noble.

Judging a Book by Its Typos

Should you judge a book by the typographical errors?

It depends.

No proofreader is perfect, and to find one or two minor typos in a book doesn’t say anything about the author. On the other hand, a self-published book riddled with mistakes leads me to believe that the author is a bad writer, and I don’t bother with those books. The same is true about a major factual error.

But I’ve just learned that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, especially when the book is a reprint and the original author didn’t have the opportunity to review it.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve enjoyed the Little Maid books by Alice Turner Curtis, who was one of the original writers of historical fiction for children. The Little Maid books are set against the background of the Revolutionary War, and the historical facts appeared to be accurate, although I don’t think I had actually checked any of them.

But I recently downloaded the Kindle version of A Little Maid of Old New York.  I was immediately put off by the opening chapter, which said the story took place in 1788 while the British still occupied New York. It also said that the British had controlled the city for seven years, which would have made the capture occur in 1781. The problem is that the British captured the city in 1776 and the war was officially over by September 1783 when the U.S. and Britain signed a peace treaty. My love of the series was crushed by a single wrong date.

Nonetheless, I decided to do some further investigation and discovered that the British abandoned New York in November 1783. Given the length of time it took to get news across the ocean in those days, that date made sense. It also worked for a seven years occupation beginning in 1776.

So I’m guessing that Curtis had accurately set the story in 1783 and that the wrong year was a typo in the Kindle version, which was published long after her 1958 death.

Which just goes to prove, you can’t always judge a book by its typos.

__________

The picture at the head of this post is an 1879 lithograph called “‘Evacuation Day’ and Washington’s Triumphal Entry in New York City, Nov. 25^th 1983.” It is attributed to Edmund and Ludwig Restein and is in the public domain because of its age.

 

The Pen is Mightier Than the Riot

 

If you want to convince people that lives matter (black, brown, white, or whatever), you can demonstrate and you can riot. Or you can write a book.

I don’t usually plug books on this blog, but I just finished Harbor Me by Jacqueline Woodson, and her contribution to the conversation is as powerful and more compelling than any demonstration or riot.

Here is the description from Amazon:

Jacqueline Woodson’s first middle-grade novel since National Book Award winner Brown Girl Dreaming celebrates the healing that can occur when a group of students share their stories.

It all starts when six kids have to meet for a weekly chat—by themselves, with no adults to listen in. There, in the room they soon dub the ARTT Room (short for “A Room to Talk”), they discover it’s safe to talk about what’s bothering them—everything from Esteban’s father’s deportation to Haley’s father’s incarceration to Amari’s fears of racial profiling and Ashton’s adjustment to his changing family fortunes. When the six are together, they can express the feelings and fears they have to hide from the rest of the world. And together, they can grow braver and more ready for the rest of their lives.

This isn’t just a story about the children we normally think of as minorities. The group includes a white boy who is bullied because he is the minority in that school. Woodson’s story shows you can’t judge any person by the color of his or her skin, but sometimes other people’s prejudices create negative experiences that children—and adults—must figure out how to handle.

Although the book is billed as a middle-grade novel, I would recomment it for adults, too.

With Harbor Me, Jacqueline Woodson proves that the pen is mightier than the riot.

A Covid-19 Story Idea

 

Earlier this year, I had begun planning a summer research trip to New England to visit lighthouses. Then Covid-19 closed everything down. I kept hoping I could get the trip in, but by now it’s pretty clear that I will have to wait until next year.

New England’s Covid restrictions are a big part of the problem. My plan was to visit lighthouses in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine, with the largest number in Maine. But Maine’s Covid-19 travel restrictions—which are similar to those in other parts of New England—would make for a frustrating and futile trip.

Maine’s travel page states, “It is mandated that all out-of-state travelers coming into Maine, as well as Maine residents returning to Maine, complete a 14-day quarantine upon arrival.”  Quarantined individuals must stay at home or in their lodgings the entire time. They may not even leave to go to a grocery store, so unless they bring enough food for two weeks, everything must be delivered. Obviously, this also means no sightseeing.

There is an exemption for anyone who has had a negative Covid-19 PCR test no more than 72 hours before entering the state, but this has its own logistical nightmares. If you get the test done in your own state before leaving, will you have the results within 72 hours? And in the case of my lighthouse tour, which would go from one state to another, we would likely need to be tested more than once to meet their requirements.

The Maine instructions say that if you haven’t received the results by the time you arrive in the state, you can quarantine “in your lodging” until you receive the results, but in the unlikely event of a positive test, the entire trip will have been wasted. Or you can quarantine in your lodging for 14 days, but who is going to spend the bulk of their vacation cooped up in a hotel room just so they can get a little sightseeing in afterwards?

But, you ask, how will the authorities know? The Maine rules require hotels, campgrounds, Airbnb hosts, and so on to obtain a Certificate of Compliance signed by each guest. Cars with out-of-state license plates are probably targets for police checks. And I’m guessing that rental car companies are required to collect a Certificate of Compliance, too. A traveler who violates the travel restrictions can receive up to six months in jail, a $1000 fine, and an order requiring that person to pay the state’s expenses.  

So I was concerned when I learned that a good friend planned to travel to New England this week. She was going as companion to a friend who wanted to do some sightseeing there, and I’m guessing the woman was making the arrangements and hadn’t thought to check out any travel restrictions. My first reaction was to warn my friend—and I did.

But my second reaction was to imagine the story possibilities. What if a clueless family traveled to New England and discovered they couldn’t get a hotel room without signing a Certificate of Compliance? Would they lie, and what would happen if they did? Would they turn around and go home? Would they tell the truth and quarantine in a hotel room until they could get tested and receive the results or even for the entire 14 days? And what kind of craziness would result from being cooped up together in a tiny froom without even the chance to take their St. Bernard outside for a walk? Maybe the story would even be the basis for another blockbuster comedy movie like National Lampoon’s Vacation or Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.

Or not. I have so many projects on my desk now that I may never get around to writing the story. I also won’t be traveling to New England anytime soon.

Because I’d rather experience it in fiction than in real life.

Writing the Storm

 

As I mentioned last week, I recently read finished re-reading David Copperfield. When I came to Chapter 55, titled “Tempest,” I was swept up in Dickens’ description of a powerful storm. The highest praise I can give him is to reproduce excerpts here for your reading enjoyment.

To set the stage, these first passages occur while David Copperfield is traveling from London to Yarmouth on the evening mail coach.

It was a murky confusion—here and there blotted with a colour like the colour of the smoke from damp fuel—of flying clouds, tossed up into most remarkable heaps, suggesting greater heights in the clouds than there were depths below them to the bottom of the deepest hollows in the earth, through which the wild moon seemed to plunge headlong, as it, in a dread disturbance of the laws of nature, she had lost her way and were frightened. …

But, as the night advanced, the clouds closing in and densely over-spreading the whole sky, then very dark, it came on to blow, harder and harder. It still increased, until our horses could scarcely face the wind. Many times, in the dark part of the night (it was then late in September, when the nights were not short), the leaders turned about, or came to a dead stop; and we were often in serious apprehension that the coach would be blown over. Sweeping gusts of rain came up before this storm, like showers of steel; and, at those times, when there was any shelter of trees or lee walls to be got, we were fain to stop, in a sheer impossibility of continuing the struggle.

…

As we struggled on, nearer and nearer to the sea, from which this mighty wind was blowing dead on shore, its force became more and more terrific. Long before we saw the sea, its spray was on our lips, and showered salt rain upon us. The water was out, over miles and miles of the flat country adjacent to Yarmouth; and every sheet and puddle lashed its banks, and had it stress of little breakers setting heavily towards us. When we came within sight of the sea, the waves on the horizon, caught at intervals above the rolling abyss, were like glimpses of another shore with towers and buildings.

Upon reaching Yarmouth, David took a room at an inn and went down to the shore for a closer look.

Coming near the beach, I saw, not only the boatmen, but half the people of the town, lurking behind buildings; some, now and then braving the fury of the storm to look away to sea, and blown sheer out of their course in trying to get zigzag back.

…

The tremendous sea itself, when I could find sufficient pause to look at it, in the agitation of the blinding wind, the flying stones and sand, and the awful noise, confounded me. As the high watery walls came rolling in, and, at their highest, tumbled back with a hoarse roar, it seemed to scoop out deep caves in the beach, as if its purpose were to undermine the earth. When some white-headed billows thundered on, and dashed themselves to pieces before they reached the land, every fragment of the late whole seemed possessed by the full might of its wrath, rushing to be gathered to the composition of another monster. Undulating hills were changed to valleys, undulating valleys (with a solitary storm-bird sometimes skimming through them) were lifted up to hills; masses of water shivered and shook the beach with a booming sound; every shape tumultuously rolled on, as soon as made, to change its shape and place, and beat another shape and place away; the ideal shore on the horizon, with its towers and buildings, rose and fell; the clouds fell fast and thick; I seemed to see a rendering and upheaving of all nature.

I wish I could write like that.

__________

The painting of the storm at sea is by Robert Witherspoon, a 19th Century British artist. It is in the public domain because of its age.