Writing Tips – Short Stories

I have always been interested in cultural reference in literature and how it shapes it, specially when I read someone explain Haikus that they have at least one line of “unrelated” reference to nature or seasons.

Why would a ninja (yes, ninjas often wrote Haikus) with super-high intelligence waste time in writing a piece with “unrelated” reference to nature? Doesn’t it sound weird before you even process this information? Could it be because the person writing the Haikus definition did not understand these references?

Is it because they have never really been close to the culture itself?

Seasons are related to survival of cultures that started long before irrigation techniques were invented. They are interwoven into poetry that started soon after, when people had time to ponder. Seasons bring comfort or discomfort and directly add to our joy and sorrow.

For example, in India with its oppressive heat most of the year, the smell of wet earth is considered one the most beautiful aromas. It brings out our joy. A lot Indian festivities are built around rainy season. It also brings out our loneliness when we don’t have anyone beloved to share it.

When a Hindi song explains feeling joy in raindrops, you might wonder how could we enjoy feeling chilled–that’s cultural gap.

I just found out that Indonesia has only two seasons: Rainy and Dry–they form the basis of their poetry.

There are also other cultural gaps, like when an Urdu writer spends pages and pages of his book writing pieces on his girl’s eyes, you wonder why he isn’t talking about her other body parts. Surely she has lips…nose…fingers…toes…legs and arms. May be because he never saw anything except her eyes because of the parda system.

Likewise, when an English writer writes about warm hearth and cozy houses, Indians have a problem in understanding how being warm could make you comfortable when we make it a point to open as many windows as possible. Most of us have never seen a fireplace in person, not even a proper oven. We also don’t have Autumn in most parts of India–we don’t understand it. We cannot visualise Autumn colours, falling leaves, gathering for the harsh winter and saving for a rainy day.

I recently saw a book, brilliant idea and amazing plot, where the writer tried to replicate Chinese culture. While the storytelling itself was amazing, there were parts that didn’t fit–some of the cultural references were wrong–minor misses that felt like a wood splinters stuck in skin. I couldn’t help thinking about them until enjoying the book became impossible.

So, the point is…

Actually, I don’t know what the point really is…

May be, this is just a reminder that not everyone will understand our stories unless we explain a few things better; and that if we are writing about another culture, we should get the cultural references right–even minor one. Also that if, as readers, we are missing context, it is good to research the culture or just ask the writer. 😀

What do you think of missed cultural reference?

Author’s note: I have always loved To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I never tried to dissect the love to understand why until recently. When I was reading it for the nth time, I realised…

The book sketches innumerable characters from a small town, I am not into documentaries and the entire thing should have been absolutely boring and I shouldn’t have been able to distinguish between characters. But I love it. The character sketch is woven into story and narrator’s interactions with them. It brings out not just the physical traits but the entire personality. Here are couple of excerpts.

“We lived on the main residential street in town—Atticus, Jem and I, plus Calpurnia our cook. Jem and I found our father satisfactory: he played with us, read to us, and treated us with courteous detachment.

Calpurnia was something else again. She was all angles and bones; she was nearsighted; she squinted; her hand was wide as a bed slat and twice as hard. She was always ordering me out of the kitchen, asking me why I couldn’t behave as well as Jem when she knew he was older, and calling me home when I wasn’t ready to come. Our battles were epic and one-sided. Calpurnia always won, mainly because Atticus always took her side. She had been with us ever since Jem was born, and I had felt her tyrannical presence as long as I could remember.”

“Dill was a curiosity. He wore blue linen shorts that buttoned to his shirt, his hair was snow white and stuck to his head like duckfluff; he was a year my senior but I towered over him. As he told us the old tale his blue eyes would lighten and darken; his laugh was sudden and happy; he habitually pulled at a cowlick in the center of his forehead.

When Dill reduced Dracula to dust, and Jem said the show sounded better than the book, I asked Dill where his father was: “You ain’t said anything about him.”

“I haven’t got one.”

“Is he dead?”

“No…”

“Then if he’s not dead you’ve got one, haven’t you?”

Dill blushed and Jem told me to hush, a sure sign that Dill had been studied and found acceptable.”

Also, the author was not in a hurry to give away everything at the beginning. It is almost half way through the book when you realise that Calpurnia is black and Dill’s character sketch waits until we are a couple of pages through with him.

Let’s learn from the masters.