Frederick Noronha
Nearly two decades ago, we were at a function where our joy was mixed with more than a tinge of sadness. The late writer, journalist Valentino Fernandes, was having his book released by another noted writer, Margaret Mascarenhas, who herself since passed on early, while only in her fifties.
But the reason for sadness then was
something else.
Val’s book was titled ‘How To Be An Instant Goan’. It was a fun book, which actually did quite well in the market, reprinted in many editions, even if not earning the writer much, due to a series of somewhat understandable reasons.
When we were talking at that Goanet-organised event, centred around the then expat-driven cyber network which was the most influential social networks in its times, Val mentioned how much of a struggle it was just to get published. He had to face outright rejections, and some delays. The latter, one can sometimes understand. To anyone with a solution-seeking mind, the question that comes up is: what could be done to change the situation?
Cut to 2025. We are in a different, but strangely similar, situation. Producing a Goa-related book has become somewhat easier. You can “break into print” in many different ways, including through self-publishing, now. That is not so much of a challenge anymore.
But, getting your book noticed, finding its way into the market, is indeed a challenge. Goa-related books are mostly seen as a part of ‘regional writing’. This might not be a bad thing in itself, but it comes with its own implications.
Major publishers will (sometimes randomly) pick out one or two books in a year, which fit their cliched understanding of what Goa is all about. The rest, will not be noticed even by the press nationwide, as if these books were never published in the first place. To be fair, a similar situation is faced by books from most parts of the country, outside a few metros.
So, we are in a situation where books are being published, but not sufficiently noticed.
This is further complicated by our local realities. The library network in Goa has all but collapsed. Our library policy is still awaited. We have some good laws, but it remains only on paper.
We are told that now, people (especially young people) don’t read anymore. This is not true. Reading has been the passion of only a few even a generation ago, and will probably remain the same now. More people read today on their smartphones and other devices, rather than books or magazines.
But government support to local authors is limited to zilch. School libraries, again, get little to no support and funding. One needs to look closely at how these work, or don’t work. Actually, what is needed is imagination, rather than just funding alone.
In our boys’ school in Mapusa, one generation ago, schoolmates recall how a particular teacher, who was very into encouraging reading (‘Sir’ Ivan Rocha), got his students to bring their surplus books to school. They would then start a ‘classroom library’, and exchange these books with one another. Everyone ended up reading a great deal more. This was especially important in times when Goa had only limited access to books for children.
Having said that, officialdom does have a role to play, with taxpayer money. Government library book purchases leave much to be desired. Books from other states flood the market. Favouritism gets placed over language and script. Things seem to have got worse over the years. Schemes to support writers (with manuscripts ready) have been abandoned, and replaced by approaches which benefit a few.
There are other ways of exclusion too.
Recently, the Institute Menezes Braganza announced its plans to create a booklet listing senior writers, poets, and upcoming writers. It said this would include “information and documentation about Goan writers, poets, litterateurs who write in Konkani, Marathi, Hindi, English and Sanskrit in the form of a booklet or directory”.
More than one person who read this online wanted to know if it would include Goan writers based outside Goa. Their contribution to understanding Goa has been vast.
Another writer asked why some languages were selected, and others left out. As this columnist has argued elsewhere (‘From Text to Print’), Goans have written in 18 or more languages. This includes Konkani (in five diverse scripts), Marathi, English, Portuguese, Hindi, Sanskrit, Pali, Kannada, Sinhala, Tamil, French, German, Spanish, Norwegian, Latin, Kiswahili, Italian, and Swedish among others, possibly Burmese and Russian too. Aleixo Manuel da Costa (1909-2000), the former head of the Goa library, collated bibliographic details of some 11,000 publications by Goans from Goa and across the globe, written in 14 languages. He then converted this into a biographical publication covering some 2000 writers from Goa.
Put bluntly, the chance for Goan writers to express themselves is hit by some severe roadblocks like limited distribution and visibility, lack of government and institutional support, high production costs, low market size, language and script discrimination, and lack of support for local works to move into the digital and audio-book space.
Admittedly, the media could play a bigger role, in publicising books. Some sections have shown a growing interest in recent times, and author-interviews are quick to come by. That is to be appreciated. But there’s much more involved. A fellow columnist from these pages (Dr Luis Dias), in his writing, has highlighted how festivals which make Goa their backdrop, have so little participation from creative talent in the state itself.
He writes, in the context of the Serendipity Arts Festival: “Among those that took a bow … I could neither see nor hear any Goan representation on the dais. (Goans are also conspicuous by their absence in the testimonials on their website, apart from predictable ones from [among] politicians).”
The same could be said of literature too. At one level, the push from big brands and labels, and major nationwide players’ favourite authors, is quite understandable. But to subconsciously or otherwise accept that ‘bigger is better’ is being very unfair to local creative talent. It makes them feel less than adequate; besides, it denies them of the only platform they have recourse to.
This might sound like a nativist, or even a self-interested, appeal. Yet so many countries have express policies meant to protect and promote local books. These range from subsidies and grants, to import restrictions and tariffs, language and cultural production laws, copyright and digital controls which are implemented in countries like France, Germany, Japan, Canada, Norway, Indonesia, China, the EU and Australia.
Not just that, even regions within particular countries protect their own ‘cultural production’. This is true of Quebec in Canada which protects French books (including through priorities and library-purchasing rules), Catalonia in Spain, Scotland and Wales, and Bavaria which has its own funding for publishers focussed on Bavarian culture and history. Even Indian states like Tamil Nadu, West Bengal and Karnataka have schemes to promote local authors and books.
Of course, depending on officialdom to build a market can be risky. But this situation needs to be noted.
In conclusion, the book in Goa — the home of printing in Asia since the mid-16th century — has come a long way. But unless we recognise the roadblocks in the path ahead, we will somehow come to believe that we are inferior to others from the ‘larger market’ areas.
