Writing for a Western Audience
By Guest | January 24, 2016 |
Please join us in welcoming guest Maha Gargash to Writer Unboxed. An Emirati born in Dubai to a prominent business family, Maha studied abroad in Washington, D.C., and London. With a degree in Radio/Television, she joined Dubai Television to pursue her interest in documentaries. Through directing television programs, which dealt mainly with traditional Arab societies, she became involved in research and scriptwriting. Her first novel, The Sand Fish, was an international best seller. Her second novel, That Other Me, is out on January 26 via Harper Collins.
“I’m writing for a Western audience.” It’s a thought that sits quietly in the back of my mind as I write. Sometimes I’m aware of it; other times, I’m not. Always, I find myself adjusting the narrative—whether it’s to do with structure or flow—in order for the story to be absorbed more readily by a Western reader. Recently, I’ve been wondering why this was so and felt the need to examine the matter more closely—culminating in this article.
Connect with Maha on Facebook and through comments to this post—but please note she will be responding from her home in Dubai and because of the 15-hour time difference from the U.S. there may be a delay in her replies.
Writing for a Western Audience
It’s easy to understand why Western readers might be interested in a novel coming out of the Arab world. No longer is the region as remote as it once was. With the ease of travel and increased integration through the interchange of views, products, and ideas, Western readers seem keen to take a peak through a window that remains largely opaque.
And here comes the challenge. Yes, there are many novels from the Arab World that tackle all the familiar themes, whether these be the Palestinian struggle for a homeland or the effects on children growing up in war torn countries. But not all are written with the Western reader in mind.
It’s not only that the Arabic language is complex and poetic, a reservoir of beautiful words. To the Western mind, Arabic thought also renders a complexity and contrariness hard to digest. To add to that, not all Arabs think the same, or express themselves the same way, or even dress the same way. This is hardly surprising for it is a vast region expanding from the Atlantic ocean in the west to the Gulf waters in the east.
Although I always keep in mind the readers of my stories, rarely do I think of them as being wholly Western or Eastern in thinking. Instead, I concentrate on producing a story well told that presents a different reality. Ultimately, it’s the conflict within the story and the interaction of the characters that keep the pages turning.
Still, there are bound to be concepts that might alienate a Western reader. The test is in telling the story without allowing it to get bogged down by over explaining things: customs, traditions, and a people’s outlook. 
I am often obliged to explain various details that might be perceived as odd, and end up putting in extra effort to make sure this is done in a way that does not disturb the stream of the narrative. (The men’s majlis comes to mind, which is a place usually attached to the main house where only men meet—a concept that many Westerners find puzzling.)
When it comes to setting, I strive to create a world that Western readers feel comfortable in. Fundamentally it is a world with different rules, unlike the one they live in, and I find it’s important that this is done very early in the novel. In The Sand Fish, the reader is transported to the 1950s of what is today the UAE and Oman right from the first chapter: the extreme heat, the arid landscape, the poverty, the tribal customs, the garments worn, and the sharply defined roles of men and women. How to include so much so early? A strong first chapter that gets you interested in what happens next.
Both my novels delve into the workings of the local Emirati society, specifically Dubai. And yet, although the lifestyle may be different from what a Westerner is used to, it is mixed with universal feelings and understandings of love, jealousy, friendship, and survival. It’s a tiny slice of life and how big it looms in my characters’ minds. In The Sand Fish, my protagonist is a third wife stuck in a household of schemes. In That Other Me, my second novel out this week, my main characters struggle to define who they really are. They are three members of a family tugging in different directions within the confines of what is expected of them by society. They act in accordance with what is called for or pull away, and end up adopting more than one persona in order to cope with the demands of their surroundings.
Having said all that, the questions remain: Will Western readers get absorbed in a story based in such a different setting and mindset? Will they want to read on? Will they sympathize with my characters? What if not? Then again, these are questions that plague any writer at different stages of the writing. The challenge for any writer, I think, is getting the reader, any reader, immersed into that world so that any action, no matter how bizarre, makes sense.
As a writer, what challenges do you face trying to get readers immersed into one of your writing worlds? Have you read stories set in the Arab world—were they written with the Western reader in mind?
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Welcome Maha. You are now part of the best writing website in the world, in my (never humble) opinion. I think you’ll find that US readers are eager to read more novels set in the Arab world. Most of what we hear, after all, is negative, if we are to believe only what is presented on the major news outlets. I must admit that I have read little from the region. As I write YA and Middle Grade, I’d love to see more of those categories set there (I could try, but it may fall flat…only so much you can do with Periscope and Google Earth).
My biggest challenge, because I have settled into writing for younger readers, is selecting the details that a young mind would notice. At 49, I’m far from those memories, but I can recall the smell of my grandmother’s laundry room as we entered her small home or the way a child tries to see snowflakes against a porch light on a school night (snow days are one of life’s greatest blessings to a child in this part of the world). It is a challenge to retrieve those memories and discover what a child notices in today’s much different world, but I enjoy it.
Welcome to WU. Can’t wait to see what you have to offer us.
Thank you Ron. And yes, this is a fabulous website.
I wrote a short story once about my childhood home and realized for the first time that it was a particularly strange setup: a two-storey building that housed the extended family and the family spare parts business. Powerful childhood memories surfaced: the smell of the shared outdoor kitchen, my burning feet as I played barefoot on the hot cemented veranda and musty darkness of the tire section in the workshop.
The more I dug, the more I reclaimed thoughts and feelings of my childhood. So, I’d suggest you keep digging. What were you passionate about at that age? What loomed large in your life? What situations did you shy away from? You will connect with your younger reader because you will be taken back to when you were his/her age and start thinking like him/her. Those emotions of long ago retrieved should get you on the right track.
Greetings and welcome Maha! I felt tremendous sympathy, and a little envy, for your task in setting out an unfamiliar world for impatient readers. Sympathetic, because epic/heroic fantasy authors also have to unload an entire world on readers, painlessly, smoothly, and in harmony with a fascinating set-up of characters, which you rightly identify as the main thing to hold a reader. Whatever we don’t say, the reader assumes is “normal” and feels unfairly treated later when you try to set them right.
And jealous, because I sense that with tales set in the Alleged Real World you have so much of an advantage! You don’t have to touch on gravity, or taxes, or newspapers, and a million other things while you bring desert weather and multiple wives to the forefront. But if someone writes about a desert planet, even Dune, then many tune out right off the bat because they don’t “do” SFF.
So now I’m cheering and little grumpy at the same time…
Hi Will. Greetings to you, too.
I love that you’re getting all these different feelings; but you can skip the jealousy. Honestly, whatever the story, there’s always the struggle to get it done. It’s part of the writing process no matter what the subject matter is.
I love to read these varied perspectives on writing for various audiences. The female protagonist in my WIP is, like me, Jamaican, but I’m largely writing for an American audience. In my story, her “Jamaicanness” comes up in the details; you learn that she works in her parents’ Jamaican restaurant, you get hints of it in her mother’s accent, and you learn that she never quite felt like she fit in in high school. But I think I made the decision to make any cultural differences/racial differences less central to the story in this first novel because I want my readers to focus on the universal themes of love and loss.
It’s an interesting dynamic, writing with a mind that’s multicultural, for an audience that many times isn’t. And, I have to admit, sometimes I question if I should focus on making the story as universal as I am. But then I remind myself that this is only my first book, and hopefully I’ll have many years ahead of me to craft many different types of books.
Interesting post, Maha. Actually, I grew up in the Arab world, so I would love to read more stories set there. In my own work I write books set in 19th-century England. Perhaps I have the opposite problem in that this setting is very familiar to readers–or at least the modern vision of it is, if you know what I mean.
Best of luck with your new novel! I think this is a great time to introduce readers to fresh and new fictional worlds.
Thanks for your wishes SK.
Welcome Maha. I identified with your post because I know what it is like to write ‘between cultures’. I’m an American who has lived in Australia for nearly 30 years and I’m getting less and less able to cull the ‘Australianisms’ or ‘Americanisms’ from my work-in-progress. When I read dialogue to my writing group, they often tell me that an Australian would not say it like that, and it’s only then that I realise I must had had my ‘American hat’ on while writing.
Tricky business Sally!
In my case, I think it helps that I’m dealing with two different languages. Still, even if I write in English, there is the issue of making sure my characters don’t sound Western, that they speak the way an Arab would. On the other hand, they shouldn’t be alienated from the mostly-Western reader. As I said, Tricky business.
I recently wrote my own blog post about the difficulties of writing East Asian stories for Western audiences. It can feel so restricting when your readers aren’t familiar with the culture you’re depicting. You can’t casually use idioms, literary allusions, or jokes that don’t make sense in translation. You have to deal with cultural dissonance in characterization. For example, Americans often get irritated by “weak” East Asian heroes with traditional Confucian values.
The urge to explain everything is powerful, but giving in to it can be deadly. I was excited to read one action-fantasy novel set in San Francisco’s Chinatown in the 1800s, but then I was disappointed to find it full of bland exposition. A man can’t light a candle at an altar without two paragraphs explaining the importance of honoring his ancestors.
In the case of the majlis, I understand your concerns. Some Westerners would get angry at the very existence of the majlis and at your heroine for accepting it. They’d want her to burst in there like one of Mao Zedong’s Red Guards, demolishing traditions left and right. But I don’t think you need to worry about those people, because they’re not the sort to read your books. If people pick up a novel with a description that clearly states it takes place in the UAE, they’re probably open-minded and willing to learn about other cultures.
Great observations T.K.
Yes, I had that problem with my first novel, The Sand Fish. I had to really stress the themes of societal restriction and limited choice so that the reader would understand that my protagonist could not be a go-getter; it would have been unrealistic.
My protagonist had the full force of conservative customs and social mores holding her back. How to make her heroic? It was a quiet heroism: weighing the pros and cons, and finding ways to cleverly beat the system in pursuit of happiness and security.
I struggled with the same sort of question when writing The Death of Fidel Perez: Why would a US audience be interested in Cuban history? Moreover, why would that audience be interested in seeing an especially colonial narrative about Cuba challenged?
It took me a while to reach Maja’s conclusion:
“Instead, I concentrate on producing a story well told that presents a different reality. Ultimately, it’s the conflict within the story and the interaction of the characters that keep the pages turning.”
Later, as I addressed audiences and listened to their questions and comments, I learned that I had short-changed my readers. My US readers were open-minded and genuinely interested in exploring other cultures through story, through literary novels.
In fact, my audience cared about a good story told well. Thanks, Maja!
Cheers, Elizabeth
Thank you Elizabeth!