A writer’s experience with the dangers of cultural appropriation

Part 2 of a 3-part post on cultural appropriation in literature.
Read Part 1 here.


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A writer’s experience

When I first began searching for representation for my novel “Cycles of Udapir” in 2015, I was told by one literary agent that “it is hard to sell a novel centering on Indian street boys and girls written by a Brit.” In the same sentence, he praised the film “Slumdog Millionaire”, written by Yorkshire-born Simon Beaufoy and directed by the English Danny Boyle.

What is a writer to do? In my last post I bemoaned the horrible device of writing a novel set in another country but with a white protagonist, which apparently skirts the issue of cultural appropriation but could land you in “white saviour” territory.

I have to ask, who are writers trying to kid with this? The white protagonist (by which I really mean “protagonist who matches the writer’s ethnicity etc.”, in my case white British) is meant to be a buffer, providing a legitimate filter through which the “other” is perceived – in the case of “Cycles”, my Indian characters. It would be offensive, we’re told, for me to write from the point of view of an Indian, so I must show my Indian characters through the lens of my privilaged white perspective: a white British protagonist.

It’s not good enough that I just want to write a story about Indians, which is my prerogative and which might be something that people want to read regardless of my ethnic background, as though that matters.

My latest novel, which is turning into something of an epic, deals with Tibetan Buddhism and the situation of the Tibetan Government-in-Exile following the occupation of Tibet by China. My young protagonist is Tibetan (plus a little Chinese) because the book is about Tibetans. Not only is it more interesting for me to try to get inside the head of someone with a different background and mindset to me, it is surely more interesting for the reader, too. Don’t we already have enough fiction with Western protagonists? Aren’t we supposed to be striving for more diversity in fiction?

Novelist Zoë Marriott said that writing rich, diverse characters was not the same as appropriating someone else’s culture. “People from marginalised groups are always being promised diversity and being delivered patronising, whitewashed and outright offensive portrayals instead,” she said.

This comes closer to my perspective, which is, crudely, “It’s fine if it’s done right.” But even this view is debated.


A writer’s dilemma

What is my specific problem? My book is about Tibetan monks and, unsurprisingly, not many Tibetan monks are novelists. Even if they were, they perhaps wouldn’t want to tell the story that I want to tell, which I believe could be meaningful and culturally significant. But of course, then I’m stepping in and being a “white saviour” myself, defending downtrodden minorities from my privilaged position. You only have to see how people react to famous actors providing relief abroad to know how that goes down.

I could write the book as I want to write it, be forced to self-publish, and have fairly reasonable accusations of cultural appropriation and possible racism levelled against me (assuming it ever gets finished and anyone ever hears about it).

Alternatively I could rewrite the entire novel from the perspective of a Heinrich Harrer-type character. Frankly this is boring, and will only serve to dilute the story. The book is about Tibetans, not what a white boy thinks about Tibetans. The reader already knows and accepts that these are a white person’s perceptions of another cultural group. Why must the writer go through the sham of creating a character to tell the reader what they already know? Frankly, it’s patronising and a waste of time.


Finding the root of the problem

In my my last post I wrote about the response to J. K. Rowling’s use of Native American folklore. The Rowling situation illustrated a point that has dogged the cultural appropriation debate for a long time: peope can’t remain focused. The issue at hand is not whether the words are offensive, or mis-representative, or reductive, but whether there is such as thing as appropriating another person’s culture in the context of fiction, and whether that is a bad thing. If “appropriation” means “using”, i.e. I wrote a book set in another country, then this debate shouldn’t even have started. Of course I’m permitted to set a story in another country. Of course I’m permitted to imagine what the life is like of somebody who isn’t me. Believe it or not, I’m capable of empathy and have rather a good imagination, and I’m capable of undertaking research.

If we can’t establish the foundation of the debate, then every other question is meaningless. If we can start at the bottom and build up, then we can begin to have constructive conversations on what is permissable and what isn’t. In reality, no-one will be able to agree on what is permissable, on both sides of the argument. Every person is unique even amongst their own people, and that is why art is possible and absolutely necessary in all its forms.

One viewpoint is that the diversity is supposed to come from those groups other than the dominant one. Anything else is arguably patronising. Regrettably for all the dominant group is (almost?) always Western white folk. It is no lie that the entertainment industry (to name just one) is geared towards whiteness and makes it extremely difficult for other voices to be heard. According to the argument, it’s not enough that there are very few novels about Tibet and that I’m in a position to try to write one (i.e. have the time and information and skill (?) available to me). It should be Tibetans writing about Tibet and it’s the industry (a reflection of societal bias) that’s stopping this from happening. By writing about Tibetans I am appropriating their culture (and probably getting it wrong in the process), whilst at the same time making a profit (ha ha!) from an industry that is, perhaps indirectly, blocking genuinly diverse voices.

This is one view, but it’s not one I wholly agree with. Isn’t it possible to represent another’s culture without appropriating it? That is the question for Part Three

I’d love to hear any and all thoughts on this topic! Feel free to comment away.

— db

The Anthony Horowitz row – Why cultural appropriation isn’t straightforward

Horowitz

Anthony Horowitz. Photograph: Ian Gavan/Getty Images

Part 1 of a 3-part post on cultural appropriation in literature.


What’s it all about?

If you haven’t heard, Anthony Horowitz, writer of the Alex Rider series and the latest James Bond novel, recently claimed that he was ‘warned off’ creating a black protagonist  because he is a white writer. Allegedly, an editor said that it would be inappropriate, ‘artificial and possibly patronising’, to do so.

This has reignited the old debate about cultural appropriation in literature, with several writers putting forward their points of view.

Ben Aaronovich, writer of the ‘Rivers of London’ series, tweeted of Horowitz: “If you don’t feel confident or just don’t want to write black characters, just say so. Don’t pretend it’s political correctness gone mad.”

What is Aaronovich actually claiming – that Horowitz made it up? I don’t believe that to be true, especially since no-one’s previously come out to say, “Oi, Horowitz, where are all your black characters?” Hororwitz wasn’t responding to an allegation. Therefore Aaronovich can go away if he’s not going to add anything constructive to the argument.

More helpful is the view of Patrice Lawrence, author of the best-selling ‘Orangeboy’ (2016, Hachette), who said that “[t]he whole issue of equality and diversity has been hijacked by white writers.” It seems that we have appropriated appropriation. The  Guardian article goes on to say to how some people claim that working class white people don’t have equality either, so perhaps this is what Lawrence means. Anyone who thinks that manual labourers in Sheffield’s Manor Top have it as bad as, say, African slaves worked to death in the bellies of British galleons, could do with a wake-up call.


Coldplay

From Coldplay’s “Hymn for the Weekend” music video, set in India. Photograph: PR company handout

Can “appropriation” be done right?

An aggressive article by the Guardian’s Rashmee Kumar last year referred to the “colonial representation” of India by “ignorant white people everywhere”, in response to a Coldplay music video:

Director Ben Mor sprayed the “essence of incredible India” onto his video, a diluted perfume invented by white, western creatives whenever they want some Indian inspiration. Under the western gaze, India is a lush, exotic land filled with dingy slums inhabited by pious, levitating holy men and lanky brown-skinned children who are always throwing colored powders at each other. This idealized India obscures the realities of a complex nation in favor of reductive tropes originally intended to preserve western hegemony.

Forget the nonsensical implication that a 3-minute music video could ever capture the entirety of a country’s complex culture; Kumar seems to believe that all Western interpretations of India are as “myopic” as Mor’s video and that no-one but an Indian could possibly get it right. The article suggests that it’s wrong to portray only the exotic and positive elements of a culture (but strangely tosses slums into this category), calling it “reductive”.

In all art forms an interpretation is reductive, simply because it’s not possible to describe the whole of a culture’s history in one painting of a ship, or relevant to write out the whole of a culture’s economical situation in a film that is meant to be a romantic comedy. As always, an artist will take the elements that are relevant to the story being told. Later, Kumar suggests that the mere act of “invoking” India is something offensive. The message: stay away unless you’re Indian, or at least know what you’re talking about. The latter I agree with whole-heartedly; the former is offensive and divisive.

There are many excellent points in Kumar’s article, especially about representation, and it’s well worth reading in full.

The “fine if it’s done right” perspective doesn’t always apply. J. K. Rowling took heat for writing a fictional account of wizards in historical America, which linked her stories to true beliefs held by some Native Americans. The result was an accusation of cultural appropriation:

“You can’t just claim and take a living tradition of a marginalised people,” said campaigner Dr Adrienne Keene on Twitter. “That’s straight up colonialism/appropriation.”

Was Rowling “claiming” Native American spiritual beliefs? I don’t believe so, any more than I’m “claiming” the beliefs of Catholics when I write about 16th Century Britain, the people of which are just as much “other” to me as a Native American. Referring to something is not the same as claiming it, and forbidding a writer to write about something other than which they are personally ethnically connected is firmly against what art is about: creating in order to bring people together. Saying “keep away from our stuff” does not help anyone to build a true understanding of another’s culture.

Some complaints were along the lines of “my beliefs are not fantasy”, despite the consensus of almost the entire planet believing that they are (every believer in any god but yours thinks you’re wrong). This complaint is not the same as “you didn’t write about it respectfully”, which should be the point. Others quite rightly took umbrage at Rowling referring to a “Native American community”, when actually “Native peoples and communities and cultures are diverse, complex, and vastly different from one another”.

Rowling was quiet after the accusations, despite receiving thousands of comments. I don’t blame her: even talking about the issue is an invitation to be pulled apart (I expect I shall be saved by lack of readership). In the second part of this series of posts I will talk about some of my own experiences and take a look at what could be the root of the problem. In the meantime, I sincerely invite comments and discussion.

— db

 

Why fiction might need “white saviours”

In fiction, the “white saviour” trope is the unfavourable use of a white (typically Western) protagonist who saves a group of non-white (typically non-Western) characters from a situation from which they have been unable to free themselves.

Wikipedia puts it better:

“The narrative trope of the white savior is how the mass communications medium of cinema represents the sociology of race and ethnic relations, by presenting abstract concepts—such as morality—as innate characteristics (racial and cultural) of white people, rather than as characteristics innate to people of color.”

In almost any sense, this is not cool. It frames the person of colour as being too weak, incompetent or ignorant to solve their own problems, and it takes a outsider to ride in on a white horse (sometimes literally) to show them the light. This has appeared in a great many novels, films and TV series and continues to happen (Marvel’s ‘Iron Fist’ (2017) and HBO’s ‘Game of Thrones’ (2011-present) come to mind.

Iron Fist

Finn Jones in “Marvel’s Iron Fist” (2017)

Game of Thrones

Emelia Clarke in “Game of Thrones” Season 3 (2013)

As a young reader I was frequently irritated by novels set in other countries but which had a Western protagonist. I now see the advantage of this: the writer gets to show the exotic setting through the eyes of a newcomer, highlighting things of interest to an unfamiliar reader that would be ignored by a native protagonist as being too boring or too normal to be worth mentioning. But since the protagonist is (should) usually be important enough to the story to warrant having a novel written about them, they are typically the hero of the story, and this almost inevitably puts them in the position of a ‘white saviour’ type.

Personally, I would rather have the novel steeped in the local culture entirely; and besides, wouldn’t I be more fascinated by a protagonist who thinks and acts like a native? I’m smart enough to work out the differences myself, you know. Some of my favourite novels dropped me right into the thick of it, such as Salmon Rushdie’s masterpiece ‘Midnight’s Children’.

The problem with the current publishing industry (in the West) is that although exotic people and locations sell, naturally enough, today’s floundering publisher wants to flog as many books as they can, and that means alienating as few readers as possible. According to the industry, the weary commuter on a bus doesn’t want to go to the trouble of understanding a ‘foreign-minded’ protagonist. They don’t want to be challenged and have to look up unfamiliar words. It should be made as easy as possible for the reader, since most books sold are lowest-common-denominator fiction in the romance or crime genres found in Tesco, which I generally think of as formulaic fiction for dum-dums (sorry).

The Last Samurai

Tom Cruise in ‘The Last Samurai’ (2003)

Temple of Doom

Harrison Ford and Kate Capshaw in ‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom’ (1984)

I ran aground in this respect with my last novel, ‘Cycles of Udaipur‘ (2016). ‘Cycles’ is set in Rajasthan and deals with a group of lost teenagers struggling to find their place in modern India. Knowing what I (thought I) know, I chose to include one character who is an outsider who could introduce the glorious, frantic, artistic beauty of Udaipur to the reader in the opening section. This came in the form of Bindya, a young woman of Indian descent who was born in Udaipur but emigrated with her parents to Birmingham, England as a teenager. Years later she returned to this strange but familiar land, where she set up a youth centre. Although the main characters look to Bindya for advice, since she is older, she is actually just as lost as they are and is of little help.

I had hoped that this slight Westernisation of a character would be enough for the literary agents to whom I submitted the novel for representation. Actually it didn’t help at all. One agent said that no-one was interested in a book set in India written by a non-Indian (Isn’t that a bit–? Never mind). Another said that Bindya’s first chapter, in which she returns to Udaipur after a short trip away, read like travel writing (i.e. she was too much of an outsider). It seemed that I wasn’t going native enough – but did I have a right to go further, since I myself am an outsider? I was self-conscious enough about that when I set out to write ‘Cycles’.

Recently, whilst doing a lot of enjoyable reading and pretending it’s research for my current novel, I returned to the vibrant graphic novel ‘The White Lama’ by Alexandro Jodorowsky (writer) and Georges Bess (artist). The story is full-blown fantasy (unless you happen to believe in reincarnation, shamanistic magic and demons), but I love the mystic melodrama of it. The story is set in 19th Century Tibet, where two white missionaries are killed soon after they arrive, and their orphaned baby is raised by local Tibetans, who believe him to be the reincarnation of a revered lama. He grows up to reach a high level of enlightenment, develops a set of fierce magical powers, and then saves his adopted people from tyrants and dark sorcerers.

The White Lama

Isn’t this just another example of a white saviour? I thought (secretly loving pretty much everything about it). The book is even called ‘The White Lama’…! Why couldn’t it have been about a Tibetan baby? Fair enough, he is a reborn Tibetan ‘soul’….

This was agonising for me, at a time when I had completed the first 70,000 words of an epic novel set in India, this time focussing on Tibetan exiles in Dharamsala. At first I imagined my Tibetan protagonist having a Heinrich Harrer-type confidante, but wasn’t that equally shabby of me? Eventually I settled on having the protagonist’s mother, who is the main focus of much of Part One, being the daughter of Tibetan exiles raised in Switzerland, where there are 4,000+. Like Bindya in ‘Cycles’, Padma Pema temporarily allows the reader to see the growing drama that surrounds her through the eyes of an outsider, though this time in a way that is far more significant to the plot.

Neither Bindya nor Padma Pema are saviours in their stories, but they do their jobs. It seems a fair compromise between a white hero in an exotic land and a ‘totally native’ novel written by an outsider.

What do my readers think? Are there any warranted examples of ‘white saviour’ types? Should writers only write about their own cultures?

—db

Buy ‘Cycles of Udaipur’ here.

 

Interfacing with the Future: An interview with author Lucy Mihajlich

I was lucky enough to work with Lucy Mihajlich on her new novel Interface, which is released this month. You should check out the novel here, which was successfully funded Lucy’s great Kickstarter campaign.

Lucy was kind enough to do a Q&A with me for STP Editing, where she answers questions about the technological, sexual and satirical themes of the excellent Interface:

INTERFACE:

The future always seemed bright, but it turns out
that was just global warming. Meals don’t come in pills,
shoes don’t lace themselves, and there are flying cars,
but the gas mileage sucks. There is one difference.
People have always searched the internet for answers.
Now they actually worship it.

Pen Nowen’s father was the founder of Interface,
a computer company so big and powerful that people
began praying to it. Especially when his death almost
tanked the economy.

Seven years later, Pen’s just finished her junior year of
high school. For their summer vacations, all of her friends
are going to Disneyland, Tijuana, or Disneyland Tijuana,
but Pen’s going on a pilgrimage to pray for what’s left
of her family. She’s on her way to the Interface flagship store
when she gets kidnapped.

It’s the second time this year. She’s about to begin the
ransom negotiations when the kidnapper says that he
doesn’t want money. He wants something else from her.
Before Pen can text 911, he says something even creepier.

He knows the truth about her dad’s death.


INTERVIEW WITH LUCY MIHAJLICH

author-photo

DB: Interface is set in the near future. How do you envisage the future – as it’s depicted in the novel, or something different?

LM: I sincerely hope the future isn’t like the one in Interface, although I did a lot of research on the future to write it. The scariest prediction I read:  Chocolate decline by 2020. I’m not even touching that one. I don’t write horror.

DB: The novel is a satire, particularly of social media. How do you feel about the current online world?

LM: I’ll preface this by saying I love the internet and may have to marry it just to make it an honest network, considering how much time I spend on it. Interface is not a critique of social media or the people who use it. That said, Facebook scares the hell out of me.

Social media adds a level of performance to our lives, and there have been a lot of studies done on the psychological effects of celebrity. I read about a study about how often people like Kurt Cobain used the first-person pronoun before and after they became famous. Their use of the word “I” increased dramatically. So did their struggles with substance abuse and depression.

I don’t think social media is the only reason my generation is struggling with what some people are calling an anxiety epidemic (student loans and Donald Trump are definitely a factor for me), but I think it’s a contributing factor.

DB: You have described Penny as an asexual character. What does this mean, for you and for the novel?

LM: I made my main character asexual because I wanted a character that I could identify with. I’ve known I was ace ever since I learned about asexuality. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen until I was in my twenties, because there’s very little asexual representation in the media.

When I started submitting Interface for publication, I received an offer from my first-choice literary agency. Ten months later, the agent changed her mind. She said that she believed romance was crucial to my book’s success. So I decided to try Kickstarter, where Interface was 122% funded. The response was overwhelming, especially from the asexual community. I wanted a character that I could identify with, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that other asexuals might want the same thing.

DB: I found the novel to be fun, fast-paced and original. What inspirations did you have, if any?

LM: I could never list all the writers who inspire me. There are some who write in completely different genres, like Oscar Wilde and Terry Pratchett. In my genres, my biggest inspirations are probably Ernest Cline, Cory Doctorow, and Andy Weir. I’m also inspired by fanfiction writers. Some of their work is better than the published fiction I’ve read. Plus where else are you going to find a Hannibal/Doctor Who crossover?

DB: Interface is the first part of a trilogy. Can you give us any (spoiler-free) hints as to what might be next?

LM: More drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (but still no sex.) If you want to know more, the first chapter of the sequel will be included with Interface!

DB: Your Kickstarter campaign got a lot of attention and there are a lot of excited people out there. Is there anything you’d like to say to them?

LM: Thank you so much! I literally could not have done it without you. I hope Interface doesn’t disappoint.

DB: What are you reading/playing/watching at the moment?

LM: My current obsession is The Martian by Andy Weir, but since you can only reread a book so many times, I just finished Stranger Things on Netflix. 10/10, would be freaked out again.

DB: What’s next for you?

LM: The sequel! Maybe a nap first.

 


front-cover

Pre-order Interface on Amazon before its November 22 release: LINK

Check out Lucy’s website: LINK

—db

 

An evolutionary basis for storytelling

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A recent article by Helen Briggs of the BBC tells how the human love affair with stories might have an evolutionary basis: an almost cathartic effect that releases ‘natural painkillers’ in the form of endorphins and fosters social bonding. According to the article:

The human fascination with story telling was forged in ancient times when we began to live in hunter gatherer communities, said Prof Robin Dunbar, who led the research [into why we’re attracted to dramatic, and even upsetting, narratives such as tear-jerking films].

“Fiction is widely studied by humanities academics as it is an important feature of human society, common to all cultures,” said Robin Dunbar, professor of evolutionary psychology at Oxford University.

“There are good social reasons: folklore enables us to pass on wisdom or ingrain community values, bringing us together. While that is important, it does not fully explain why we are willing to return again and again to be entertained.”

He thinks our affinity for emotive fiction may have evolved in the context of cohesion of social groups, as the endorphin effect has also been seen in comedy, singing and dancing.

“This is not to say that this one chemical effect alone is the only reason for dramatic fiction – there are other aspects of human psychology at work – but we believe that it is an important reason for our enjoyment of fiction,” he added.

—db

New paperback releases!

I’m thrilled to announce that my novels ‘The Gun of Our Maker’ and ‘Cycles of Udaipur’ are now available as actual, physical, smell-the-pages paperback editions!

David Brookes author

Don’t have an e-reader? Now you don’t need one to experience the literary wonders you see before you. Already have the e-book versions? Get a hard copy too and then your friends will be impressed by the taste of your bookcase!

Order your paperback of ‘The Gun of Our Maker’ by clicking here.

Order your paperback of ‘Cycles of Udaipur’ by clicking here.

You can see my original e-book release posts here (‘GOOM‘) and here (‘COU‘).

As always, if you read either version of the novels then please leave a review so that other readers can see what you thought of them. Sales are massively affected by positive reviews and, since I have no marketing clout, I rely on reviews almost exclusively to keep these novels from slipping into oblivion.

Thanks to everyone who’s given me their support over the years!

—db

Paperback for more

News!

To date my novels Cycles of Udaipur and The Gun of Our Maker have only been available for e-readers like Kindle.

Coming this Sunday, you’ll now be able to order them as actual paperbacks made of actual paper, thanks to Amazon!

If you already have the e-books, feel free to get a lovely tangible version too for your bookcase. They look real pretty.

—db

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What the Brexit EU Referendum results could mean for the arts

cBREXIT EU scrabble

Like almost half of the UK yesterday morning, I was aghast, troubled, disgusted and angry to learn that the British public, in their wisdom, has voted for the UK to leave the European Union. There will be almost endless ramifications for both Britain and Europe for decades to come – but how will this affect writers and other artists?


1. Funding for the arts will be harder to obtain
Let’s face it, the attempt to secure arts funding from nepotistic organisations like the Arts Council is a pessimistic shot in the dark in any case. For two reasons, writers and artists will now have an even tougher time.

Firstly, the economic uncertainty of leaving the EU will plunge the UK economy into another recession, which already seemed inevitable as part of a predicted “double-dip” following the horrendous austerity in the wake of the 2008/9 crash (which incidentally resulted in plans for my second novel, signed off for publication by my publisher, being scrapped). The government has always been tight when it comes to funding the arts, but when times are tough and artists are most motivated to create, those opportunities will shrivel further.

Secondly, much of the arts funding available to artists is provided by the EU. We can probably say a regretful goodbye to any real help from the likes of the European Cultural Foundation, who despite their adoration of the arts and artists from around the world may have to limit their grants and other support to EU members only. Britain is European in the geological sense, but soon no longer in the political sense, and often that is what matters. According to WelcomeEurope.com, there are 62 funding bodies available for cultural projects, but only a fraction of these include the arts, and they will likely soon be withdrawn for British artists.

One of the biggest organisations, Creative Europe from the European Commission, replaced the European Union Cultural Programme in 2013 and was intended to last until 2020, but whether British artists will be able to continue to apply after the separation remains a mystery. I have contacted them for comment.

Stephen Deuchar, Director of the Art Fund, has this to say: “The Art Fund is deeply concerned at the impact leaving the EU will have on culture in the UK, and particularly on its museums and galleries. At one level there is obviously now great financial uncertainty – the effect on European funding for the arts, for example – but quite as important is the potential effect on the spirit that drives a myriad of international partnerships in the arts.”

For more info on grants for writers, check out FundsForWriters.com.


2. We will lose the love of those who have helped our literature in the past
At the latest European Literature Festival, held in London April and June this year, author Kate Mosse pointed out that “the fundamental building blocks of this country you could say come from the nature of translation,” citing the Magna Carta, “written in Latin not translated into English until the middle of the 16th century”, and the King James Bible, which eventually appeared in English in 1611. “So all of us here, wherever we come from, have grown up with this sense of other voices, other languages, in our head. But sometimes we forget that.” Her 2005 bestseller, “Labyrinth”, has been translated into more than 37 languages.

It is a ridiculous stretch to think that novels written in European languages other than English might not get translated, but there are many projects that bring lesser-known non-English writers to the English audiences, and those UK citizens living and working in Europe may now have to face expensive and difficult visa processes to remain where they are if they wish to continue to work.

Source: The Guardian: “Kate Mosse speaks up for European literature in face of Brexit”.


3. Our most-loved artists and creative teams might be affected
The much-adored Game of Thrones may be in trouble, since it is partly filmed in the lovely landscapes of Northern Ireland. It has been speculated that HBO may lose its EU funding due the separation, however the studio has recently reported that this is unlikely to happen. HBO now gets funding from the UK for Game of Thrones, not from EU sources, so non-fans like me can continue to hear about that damned show for years to come.

However, Fortune states that the Referendum result could “discourage Hollywood studios and cable networks to film shows and movies in Britain, in part because the country would no longer have access to European subsidies”. The likes of Film4, which continues to make some incredible cinema, doesn’t rely on EU funding, but with austerity measures looming they may already be thinking about reducing their budget, which was only increased from £15m to £25m this February.


4. Artists will have more opportunity to build bridges – a step backwards
In a heartbreaking article from The Guardian yesterday, artists decry the sorry state of affairs that now blights the UK. Sensational pianist Stephen Hough, who has played on all the world’s greatest stages and released over 50 recordings of his classical performances, hits the nail on the head:

“Whether in or out of Europe, we will always need to be building – and repairing – bridges. Sometimes the arts can be the only way a connection can be made across turbulent waters.”

Actor and theatrical Artistic Director Barry Rutter, OBE adds, “For artists, it will only increase dynamism and creativity – hungry artists are always creative.”

Philip Pullman presented this scathing account of the causes of the Brexit separation, which at the very least evidences how trauma can inspire literary works, as well as being precisely damning and entertaining.

One of my personal reasons for voting Remain was the strong feeling that, as a global community, we should be striving for togetherness, not division, even if there are minor compromises. The pain of separation may have inspired the greatest art and literature of all time, but I would much rather that pain not be put into the world – by a vote.

–db


Added 30th June 2016 One of the Creative Europe desks kindly responded to my query with the following, which was to be expected:

“Thank you for your enquiry. Given the complexity of the issue and the number of partners involved, Creative Europe Desk UK are hoping to issue a statement later this week.”

Since there is still talk about a second referendum, and that the shambling remains of the British government have yet to initiate the ‘divorce’, there may be hope yet for creative souls across the UK and Europe.

–db


Added 3rd July 2016: I received a further replace from Creative Europe:

“You can find Creative Europe Desk UK’s statement on the Creative Europe and the impact of the UK’s EU referendum outcome on our website. The statement also contains contact details for any further enquiries you have about Creative Europe’s MEDIA and Culture sub-programmes.

You can also read Creative Scotland’s statement in response to the EU referendum result on the Creative Scotland website.”

–db


For further reading, see my follow-up from February 2017 here.

Free short stories from David Brookes!

About a year ago I chose to give up writing genre fiction, which I’d been writing since I was 13, and focus on what I considered more ‘literary’ fiction. With the exception of the re-release of ‘Half Discovered Wings’, my first novel (2009) and a fantasy, which was more for nostalgia than anything else, my efforts have been towards more meaningful (and marketable) fiction:

I also discontinued sale of some of my other material that was available on Amazon and Smashworlds, namely the science fiction short story collection ‘The Gas Giant Sequence’ and the steampunk fantasy adventure stories in my ‘Professor Arnustace’ series. Although I’m super proud of these works, which were a lot of fun to write, and despite the fact that they sold far more than my other releases, they weren’t fitting with the direction I wanted to go in. I know, how arty of me.

It’s both pleasing and distressing that I’ve had such a response from readers about this. The second ‘Professor Arnustace’ story in particular had some of my best reviews, and I still get messages asking whether there will be a third. Although I don’t have plans for the gentleman detective, as a thank-you I’ve decided to make all my discontinued stories available here for free. Yay!

You will need to connect your e-reader to your computer to copy across the files to your device.

Happy reading!

–db


The Gas Giant Sequence

Krill Split Omnibus cover

Part 1: Krill
Part 2: Split
Part 3: Tranquil Sea
Part 4: Tulpa


The Professor Arnustace Stories

Professor Arnustace

Story 1: An Account of a Curious Encounter
Story 2: Iced Tea for Professor Arnustace


 

Available for pre-order: ‘Cycles of Udaipur’ by David Brookes

I’m thrilled to announce that my new novel, ‘Cycles of Udaipur’, is currently available for pre-order! It will be published in ebook format to coincide with Maha Shivaratri, the Hindu festival in honour of the deity Shiva, occurring on Monday 7th March 2016.

You can read more about the book and pre-order your copy here on Amazon (for Kindle) or here on Smashwords (for non-Kindle e-readers).


 

Final Cover 01


 

CYCLES OF UDAIPUR
David Brookes

Rajasthan is a vivid land of colour and spice, Maharajahs
and gods. But the vibrant city of Udaipur is not the peaceful
Hindu refuge it once was, and as India races towards
modernity its youth faces a cultural identity crisis.

When young Raj hits a cow with his motorcycle, little does
he know that he has started a chain reaction that will
obliterate his close-knit group of friends. Mariam is a Muslim
artist forbidden to paint Hindu deities. Her paramour Shiv
aches to be a politician in a city ruled by gangland overlords.
And lovelorn Vansh finds himself sucked into a mystical
vortex from which his mind may not recover.

Set against the sweeping grandeur of Rajasthani history,
Cycles of Udaipur spins on the axle of tradition and
progress: a tangled web of hope, faith and enduring passion
that epitomises a new India heretofore unknown to the West.


 

Thanks again to everyone for their encouragement and support. Happy reading!

—db