PUBLISHING
Let's get off the merry-go-round
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ADITI DE participates in a workshop on the issues facing children's publishing in India but says the camaraderie and like-mindedness did not quite add up to imaginative solutions.
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`THROUGH the Looking Glass' was a tantalising title for a workshop on writing, illustrating and editing for children. It promised a playground of ideas in which to bounce preconceptions, pitfalls and professionalism. It had the potential to startle Indian publishing with conceptual balloons, while the industry battles apathy, low self-esteem and haphazard marketing. What kept it from launching high quality publications towards an estimated readership of 25 million 7 to 13-year-olds in urban India?
The workshop, organised by the Chennai-based Chatterbox children's magazine and the local British Council (August 27 and 28) raised more questions than it answered. Its resource people included naturalist-teacher-writer Zai Whitaker and U.K.-based writer-illustrator Rohini Chowdhury for non-fiction, writer-columnist Ranjit Lal and writer Asha Nehemiah for fiction, illustrators Uma Krishnaswamy and Ashok Rajagopal, and Tulika Publishers' editor-writer Sandhya Rao and this writer (as former editor of Junior Quest magazine and the Open Sesame supplement). The 30-odd registrants included a financial whiz, an environmental writer, a graphic designer, a potter, a retired IIT professor, a tour operator and a Montessori teacher.
What did they learn of current Indian children's publishing? Even a cursory glance reveals home truths impossible to ignore. For instance? Indian parents still opt to buy their children a pizza instead of a hardcover Indian book. Schools seldom use novel local publications as supplementary texts. Publishers pay less for inputs for children than for adults, even from the same writer/ illustrator. Few publications attract enough advertising to cover their production costs. Professional marketing rarely impacts this playing field.
What sources can publications tap for funds? Through four adult-to-adult sessions, why was the child's uninhibited viewpoint overshadowed? No answers surfaced to these unspoken, but crucial, queries.
On the national scene, New Delhi-based Children's Book Trust still publishes its subsidised books and Children's World magazine, which seems out of sync with a readership hooked on Harry Potter, Pokemon and computer games. The brilliant Target magazine, edited by Rosalind Wilson, who nurtured pan-Indian talent and touched a responsive chord within young readers, did not survive. Nor did Junior Quest. Chandamama, a source of basic mythology for generations, is still on the stands. But how do children react to it? Even Ratna Sagar's affordable, well-produced fiction by Sigrun Srivastav, Subhadra Sen Gupta and Ruskin Bond were spurned by the foreign-oriented market.
What choices do today's young readers have? Weekly supplements from The Hindu and Deccan Herald, which under-explore their interactive potential. Or the information-packed pages of Chatterbox. And quality books like Ekki Dokki and And Land was Born from multilingual imprints like Chennai-based Tulika. Or innovative texts like Hen Sparrow turns Purple and Leafs from Tara Publishing. Or the relaunched Puffin and Rupa titles. But can these wean readers away from J.K. Rowling, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Jacqueline Wilson, and the Animorphs? Must another generation grow up on cucumber sandwich and licorice-based fiction?
These issues could have shaped the workshop. Did dragons turn into princesses chewing rainbow-hued gum? Did contemporary adventures meld with ancient myths? If not, why not? It could be that the talks were too long, the interactions and exercises too brief. Or that the quests of the motley participants were too disparate to find common ground. Or that the workshop's broadband scope disallowed introspection on provocative moments.
Such as? Perhaps Lal's observations about puritanical editorial attitudes to everyday childspeak. Surely playground language has evolved further than "bloody custard"? Or Nehemiah's make-believe quotes from The Boss (or child reader), such as: "I tried to read your story. But where was it? I read all the way down to the middle of page one... but still no signs of your story. So, I gave up reading and went to sleep." Or Whitaker's impassioned plea to writers, "We write of rag pickers and poor people, but not of divorce or sexual abuse. Why are we so reluctant to bring up real issues with children?" Or Chowdhury's reflections on copyright and intellectual property rights.
Or even Rao's summing up of the raw courage required of an Indian editor "knowing that because children and their reading are so low on peoples' priorities, there is a glut in the market of cheap books that should not pass muster... They have to produce good materials, and to ensure their continuous production and supply to eventually enable a change in taste and demand." Or the heated discussion on abysmal rates and stalled payments that emerged from the illustrator's session. Or published feedback from Open Sesame in 1994: "The letters you ask us to write contain only personal thoughts and dreams. By reading these, we learn the mentality of children. But where does that take us? Nowhere."
If even one of these ideas had been teased threadbare or filled the workshop with impassioned debate, the organisers might have fulfilled their objective "to understand the art and craft" of the field. As an industry insider, the experience proved disappointing.
What of the participants? Writer Jaya Madhavan responded, "Unlike those seminars where the literary biggies arrive to plunge into their personal battles, this workshop was open, friendly and there was almost a sense of camaraderie." Illustrator Angeline said, "I'm happy that I attended this engrossing workshop, which gave me a chance to interact with so many like-minded people."
But camaraderie and like-mindedness do not quite add up to a space for ideation or imaginative solutions to critical issues of survival. And a strong-willed movement is the need of the moment. When will all those engaged in publishing for Indian children put their heads together to evolve market strategies? When will a universal accord emerge on quality controls? When will parents and teachers recognise the import of texts beyond textbooks? When will we reflect a child-centric core? We stepped through the looking glass into shards of reality. This workshop — alas! — signals a missed opportunity to get off the dizzying merry-go-round and plant our feet on terra-firma.
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