Expanding our Embrace: Including Stories with International Settings by Padma Venkatraman

Padma Venkatraman is the author of BORN BEHIND BARS, THE BRIDGE HOME, A TIME TO DANCE, ISLAND’S END and CLIMBING THE STAIRS. Her novels have, in total, garnered numerous honors, received over twenty-two starred reviews, and won several awards such as a WNDB Walter Dean Myers Award, SCBWI Golden Kite Award, Crystal Kite Award, Nerdy Book Award, Julia Ward Howe Boston Authors Club Award, Malka Penn Honor, ASTAL RI Book of the Year Award, two South Asia Book Awards, two Paterson Prizes, and more. Visit her at www.padmavenkatraman.com and follow her on Twitter (@padmatv) or ig/fb (@venkatraman.padma), and learn more about her latest novel, BORN BEHIND BARS, at https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/647196/born-behind-bars-by-padma-venkatraman/

Expanding our Embrace: Including Stories with International Settings by Padma Venkatraman

I chose on my own, at nineteen, to leave my country of origin and journey half-way across the world alone, before deciding (entirely by myself) to become a citizen of the United States. I hope I’ll live long enough to write that story; but my first five novels are set in India which I’ll likely revisit often in my stories, because I feel a burning responsibility to write books set in South Asia with South Asian characters for our young people. 

Having grown up in India, I probably have a deeper insight into its culture and history than authors who grew up here. Still, writing stories set in India for young people living in the United States isn’t easy. When I revise, I must re-read with American and Indian mindsets: I can’t afford to confuse mainstream readers, nor do I wish to bore readers familiar with the cultural milieu. An Indian character would take for granted many things an American reader may find odd (e.g. taking shoes off before entering a home). Even “shaking” the head isn’t simple – Indians don’t nod and their body language is different. And should I use Indian words/expressions? When we write stories with international settings peopled by international characters, we walk a tightrope: say too much and readers will be jerked out of the narrative; say too little and readers may complain they feel lost. Luckily, I didn’t think about how much harder it is to historical fiction set elsewhere when I began my debut, Climbing The Stairs, which is set in India during WWII.

Most books published for young Americans are set in America. Many brilliant global narratives that have been published to great acclaim in our country tend to be stories that tell of immigration so that they begin elsewhere but end in the States (e.g. Inside Out and Back Again, Audacity), or feature an American protagonist (e.g. Many Stones, Orchards). Far fewer novels are set entirely in another country with an international cast.  It’s understandable and justifiable that books and conversations in our community focus on literature that celebrates diversity within our nation. But hearing people say they’re only interested in American diversity upsets me. Unarguably, it’s vital to expose young readers to all aspects of diversity within our culture. Yet we must also remember to include international narratives.

If we encounter Cuba in a history book or social studies lesson, we may only remember how this country differs from ours; when we visit Cuba through the eyes of Drum Dream Girl who lives there, we imbibe her love of Cuban music (without it sounding exotic). Where the Mountain Meets the Moon and The Jumbies reveal that other countries have rich, imaginative storytelling traditions, too. Muslim and non-Muslim readers of Amal Unbound learn that Islam can be the majority religion. By briefly sharing Tree-Ear’s world-view in A Single Shard, we comprehend that people of other nationalities may be as proud of artistic heritage as we are. The Red Pencil, Like Water on Stone and Between Shades of Gray invite us to experience familial love, even though they portray genocide.  News reports about violence perpetrated in another country cannot provide this subtle balance; indeed, if we don’t acknowledge the potential for bias in nonfiction, it may leave us feeling righteous, superior or judgmental. One Plastic Bag reveals that people can solve problems ingeniously and without international assistance. Twenty-Two Cents demonstrates that original thinkers sometimes arrive at unique, ingenious ideas by taking quite the opposite of an accepted / American approach. ​

A reader remarked that A Time To Dance mirrored her disability experience, yet provided a window into the lives of people with disabilities in India.  The Bridge Home’s international location provides a buffer as well as a starting point to reflect on social justice issues in America.  

Similarly, my latest novel, Born Behind Bars, centers a topic that is vital for us to consider, here in the United States: injustice within the criminal justice system. Born Behind Bars is inspired by the true story of a young person who was released from jail, while his mother remained incarcerated for years without having had a chance to stand trial. There are, for sure, many differences between Indian society, in which the protagonist of Born Behind Bars lives, and our society in the United States, but I hope the story will move readers deeply enough that they will discuss fundamental questions about the inequities that exist, not just in Indian society, but also in whatever society they call their own. 

Introspection, and seeing the similarities among cultures is a gift that international narratives may bring. But they can do more. When we read books we love, we identify with characters. So, when we read a book with an international protagonist, we don another nationality - albeit superficially and fleetingly. We are forced to see through other eyes, minds and hearts; encouraging us, hopefully, to stop labeling human beings “aliens.” We experience shared humanity through the universality of emotion (although emotions may be expressed differently, depending on time / place / circumstance). We encounter new problem-solving approaches. We appreciate that one question may have several valid answers. We respect other paradigms regardless of whether we share them. We acknowledge that other country’s citizens feel patriotic fervor and increase our knowledge of their achievements - knowledge necessary to cultivate humility in our hearts. Humility of this kind is to be treasured, not feared, because such humility is perfectly capable of peacefully co-existing with a healthy pride in one’s own nation.

Just as we’re individuals and members of families, we’re American and global stewards. Just as self-interest is often secured and promoted when we work for our family’s welfare, our national interest often requires international co-operation (not competition). Co-operation is founded on trust. Trust is built on a foundation of knowledge and understanding that stories foster because they transport us -  not only into another place or time but into another’s soul – affording insights into world history and culture even if we can’t travel, and encouraging us to breakdown stereotypes and prejudices so we move beyond tolerance, toward mutual acceptance. Stories are keys that unlock compassion.
If there’s one thing that the pandemic has taught us, it’s that there’s an urgent need for humans to come together, and that cooperation is a far more compassionate and intelligent way to move forward than competition. And international stories can lay the groundwork for global connections by nurturing empathy, which may help readers unite in the future to defeat crises that threaten to destroy the earth we humans call home.