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  • Aug 19, 2013
  • 4 min read

Before you get any weird ideas, let me clarify that the word I’m talking about is the word “oriental,” and at the outset I want to admit that I used to use this word. My excuse is that I grew up in the South (as in Southern United States, not South India where my parents are from :) ) and I didn’t come across many Asians, East or South or otherwise, so I gleaned the appropriate vocabulary from books and TV. And according to books and TV, East Asian people were described as “orientals” (I am realizing though that I did read a lot of Agatha Christie and similarly old-fashioned British literature). So I thought this word was in regular use until a friend in high school (thank you! you know who you are!) informed me that the word “oriental” was for “furniture and rugs, not for people.” I immediately changed my mental vocabulary because it did make a kind of sense to me since, as an Indian-American in a place where there weren’t many Indian-Americans, I knew inherently what it was like to be “other”-ized, (though I certainly didn’t think about it in those specific terms until I was older–I wasn’t a very sophisticated teenager).

Fast-forward to a week ago when I read The Cuckoo’s Calling by J.K. Rowling (originally published under pseudonym Robert Galbraith), in which a very minor character is described in passing as a “flat-faced middle-aged oriental woman”. I quickly tweeted about it and posted to Facebook wondering whether this description would be considered okay in the UK. I didn’t get much of a response from my Facebook friends who either didn’t see my post or wisely chose not to get into it on Facebook, though one friend did say she personally didn’t take issue with the word “oriental” but did associate it with people who were generally racist. After a cursory search online, I’ve found some indication that it *is* considered okay by many in the UK (here and here). But to some in the US, it is somewhat akin to using the N-word (see discussion here and here ) and was even banned from state documents in New York back in 2009. (And after doing some of this cursory online reading, I have realized that I, as an Indian American, would also be considered “oriental” by some.) Anyway, I did some googling, complained to my family who didn’t care, then shrugged my shoulders and moved on. I haven’t seen anyone online complaining about racial descriptions in Rowling’s book, so whatever, it’s not like I was personally going to use this word.

And then, this week, I finally got around to reading a self-published book that had been sent to me to review, and lo and behold an Inuit side-character is described as having “oriental features” which, we are told, spoke of her ancestor’s long journeys (a description which irked me in context, but I suppose could be considered factually correct). Unlike many other self-published books I’ve been sent, the book was easy to read and very fast-paced, but was littered with descriptions like this exoticizing and other-izing its characters. Several characters read as unintentionally condescending “civilized” people trying to teach backwards jungle people (to put it bluntly), rather than what they were meant to be, which was experienced anthropologists seriously studying an indigenous group in the Amazon. There was also a genetic angle to the book, which troubled me and I’m not going to get into that. The book felt well-intentioned, and the author’s interest in depicting diverse cultures came across, but I just couldn’t bring myself to finish it and review it on my blog (side note: I had other issues with this book. This wasn’t the only reason I didn’t finish).

But here was my conundrum–was it up to me to tell the author about my problems with his treatment of his indigenous characters in the book? Can I assume that I, as an Indian-American have the right to tell the author about these issues, and his use of the word “oriental” when, presumably, not everyone would be similarly annoyed? Ask my writing group members and they will probably tell you I tend to be overly sensitive when it comes to racial descriptions in books (another book that offended me that other people probably though was fine). And who the heck am I to judge when it wasn’t “my people” he was describing? It’s not like I’m an expert on depictions of race in literature. And what is offensive to one person, might not be offensive at all to another. No one person can claim that they speak for a whole population of people. Is it even possible to write a book that doesn’t offend at least one person in some way?

At the very least, is it my responsibility to tell this author (who is American, I believe) that that he probably shouldn’t use the word “oriental” in a book intended for US readers? As a writer myself, I would hope someone would just flat out tell me if I had written something offensive when I hadn’t mean it to be.

Anyway. In the end I decided to write this blog post and hope that the author reads it, recognizes his work, and makes his own decisions about whether his book should be revised or not.

I welcome constructive comments about this post! I know race is a touchy and uncomfortable topic to discuss.


More Than This by Patrick Ness This is a weird book. But weird in that thought-provoking way that I love. Here’s the premise: a teenaged boy named Seth drowns and dies, but then wakes up in a post-apocalyptic version of his boyhood hometown in England. His home is just the way he remembers it before his family moved to America (same furniture and all), but nothing appears to have been touched in years. As the main character explores and slowly pieces together what’s going on, we’re taken along for the ride.

The first fifty pages or so read like a post-apocalyptic survival story, mixed with the main character’s memories of his relationships with his friends and family. At first, I was really worried this would turn out to be some kind of boring literary experiment, and the third person present tense definitely adds to that feeling. And while at times it did read as a literary experiment, it definitely wasn’t boring. Once things started to happen and plot twists started showing up, the narrative becomes very compelling.

Fans of the Chaos Walking trilogy will enjoy Ness’s usual knack for exciting, unexpected plot twists, the familiar motifs of truth and reality, of friendship, and of finding your strengths. There are also many layers of story and several time-lines in the main character’s life to follow. Many meaty topics are dealt with (as the very self-aware characters state point blank) such as suicide, abuse, murder, and kidnapping. The violence in this book is not as graphic (though, still a little graphic) as in the Chaos Walking Trilogy, though the “adult situations” are a little more intense.

Ness winks at his audience throughout the story, even nods to many other sci fi/thriller tropes, and sometimes it’s funny, and sometimes it feels a bit forced. I also felt that the suicide attempt referred to in the book wasn’t given the weight or gravity it deserved, but all in all, this is an exciting, engaging read that will leave you thinking about IRL, the internet, and where we all fit in in the grand scheme of things.

Disclaimer: Received an ARC directly from the publisher.

Mother Nature Rhymes by D.B. Johnson

Preschooler Monkey and I don’t read a lot of books on the iPad. The problem is, she is more interested in the games and watching videos than reading the books. However, when I received a free copy of this iBook directly from the author, I was interested to try something different.

This is a book of funny nature-themed rhymes accompanied by gentle interactive video. The interactive part is designed to only start after a few seconds, giving you the opportunity to read the rhymes out loud to your child before he/she is distracted by the video. At first I wondered why there was no voice-over to read the text, but then as we read, I realized that was actually a good thing because my daughter usually just ignores those voice-overs and plays with the book as if it’s a game. Whereas when I read the book out loud to her, she sat and listened quietly, the way she does when we read at bedtime.

The rhymes themselves are whimsical and fun to read. I absolutely loved listening to the sweet, gentle nature sounds and watching the silly animal characters act out the descriptions in the rhymes. While there were a few word choices that didn’t quite work for me, the rhymes on the whole felt clever and simple (in a good way).

All that being said, however, we only read this book together once (or rather twice in one sitting with the last two poems being read 2-3 times). Not because my daughter and I didn’t like it, on the contrary, I thought it was one of the more well-done book apps I’ve seen. However, I just don’t like to do a lot of reading with my child using the iPad.

Also, as a side note, the iBook App was very difficult for us to use because Infant Monkey was interested to see too and kept banging on the screen with her little hands, causing it to zoom in and out weirdly or flip pages before we were done, which interrupted the reading experience.

Of course none of that has anything to do with the book itself, so if you are a parent who is going on a long trip and wants some iBooks to occupy your little one, this one is a good option. Especially if your child is a slightly more sophisticated user who knows not to bang randomly on the screen (so, you know, like at least age 2.5 or 3).

© 2008-2024 by Amitha Jagannath Knight

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