Writing With a Broken Tusk
Writing With a Broken Tusk began in 2006 as a blog about overlapping geographies, personal and real-world, and writing books for children. The blog name refers to the mythical pact made between the poet Vyaasa and the Hindu elephant headed god Ganesha who was his scribe during the composition of the Mahabharata. It also refers to my second published book, edited by the generous and brilliant Diantha Thorpe of Linnet Books/The Shoe String Press, published in 1996, acquired and republished by August House and still miraculously in print.
Since March, writer and former student Jen Breach has helped me manage guest posts and Process Talk pieces on this blog. They have lined up and conducted author/illustrator interviews and invited and coordinated guest posts. That support has helped me get through weeks when I’ve been in edit-copyedit-proofing mode, and it’s also introduced me to writers and books I might not have found otherwise. Our overlapping interests have led to posts for which I might not have had the time or attention-span. It’s the beauty of shared circles—Venn diagrams, anyone?
Italics, Audience, and Purpose in the North American and Indian proofs of Birds on the Brain
As an immigrant, first in the US and then in Canada, I have long found myself rebelling against the convention of italicizing the first occurrence of a foreign word in published text. Wasn’t English largely shaped by words imported from other languages? What does “foreign” mean, anyway? Is there a date-stamp on foreignness? Unfamiliar to whom? Italics seemed to be shouting out to the reader. They seemed to be saying things like this:
Hey! Look! This word’s not English!
What language is it anyway?
Check the back of the book. Is there a glossary?
How do you pronounce this?
In other words, stop reading. I decided to dispense with italics as markers of foreignness. I found that others who reflected on this matter agreed.