Questions of Authenticity

If an alien came down and landed on earth and tried to address and understand our world as one, he would see that we all look and act much the same. But if the alien was to stay for a long time, (say he was like an 'exchange student' on earth), he would likely be treading the most confusing obstacle course of juxtaposed truths. A big web. We have so many lines and boundaries. There are boundaries in race, culture, religion, sex, class, politics, morals...to name but a few.

I often think one of the hardest and most frightening tasks for a stand-up comedian must be in their duty to judge boundaries. The scary part is not knowing whether you've pulled it off until you've done it live in front of an audience. You could be laughed off the stage, or it could go completely tits-up. Part of the thrill of comedy I suppose? I commend all stand-ups out there to be honest, even the shit ones. Just for taking the mic. It's a terrifying position.

A lot of good comedy dances tremendously on a tightrope, tipping into the dangerous territory of what we consider 'un-pc', and then regaining balance on the tightrope again. Most of us love 'un-pc' in comedy. That's if it is achieved with a certain edge and expresses a truth that we recognise. We are all different after all. As much as we learn from and respect each other, so are we all rooted in our own upbringings and perspectives to a certain extent. There has always and will always be tension between different nations, cultures and classes. Fear of the unknown and protection of our own is an animal instinct, and we're just animals really.

When comedy jumps over these boundaries, it often explores the thoughts many of us subconsciously have but are afraid to express; the worries that preoccupy us where boundaries are concerned. By overstepping the mark, whether it be social, moral, racial, political or other, a comedian opens up a dialogue into that 'dangerous territory'. That's why it's so funny, when done well. And so soul-achingly embarassing when it's done badly.

Take Ricky Gervais' sitcom pilot for 'Derek' as a prime example. It was aired on Channel 4 in April 2012, to a mixed reaction. There was outrage and serious debate over Gervais' choice of main character; a vulnerable man portrayed as having learning disabilities. Gervais has found success with cringe-comedy in the past, but was he going a step too far by preying on disability for cheap laughs? When questioned by disability campaigner Nicky Clark about whether Derek was disabled, Gervais answered:

"Derek is a fictional character and is defined by his creator. Me. If I say I don't mean him to be disabled then that's it. A fictional doctor can't come along and prove me wrong."

Nicky Clark is actually in favour of the sitcom and her full interview with Ricky and article are well worth a look: click here .

  Ricky Gervais as 'Derek Noakes', with Karl Pilkington who plays 'Dougie' in the new sitcom.                           

                                                    Image credit: NME 

The boundary Gervais tackles on this one is dangerous then, but he seems to have pulled it off as Channel 4 have commissioned a full series of 'Derek'. It will be interesting to see the reaction when it is aired later this year.

A writer also treads a dangerous type-space when writing about what is outside their own frame of knowledge and reference. This has been playing on my mind a lot. Sometimes I feel tied to a very small frame of reference in my story writing. Isn't art meant to be about freedom, imagination, going anywhere, even if you haven't in reality, or the place does not really exist?

How important is authenticity? And what does it mean to be authentic? Is it a case of who we are and where we were born?

I read an interesting piece in The Guardian back in June, called 'How not to write about Africa in 2012 - a beginner's guide' by Binyavanga Wainaina.

The tone of the piece was clearly set in the sub-heading:

'The booming continent is ripe for new partnerships, but with those who address us as equals not in aid bullet points'. 

The article employed scathing sarcasm to criticise Western notions of Africa. It painted Western journalists and charity-workers (as well as the wider public) as self-proposed martyrs, who dither outside the battlezones of Africa, professing to help with aid work and charity money. It drew up the modern Western man as an unprogressed echo of his colonial history: unaware, patronising and downright eurocentric in his thinking of the wider world and how to approach other nations. Wainaina seemed to ask, what makes Westerners so smug and supreme in even feeling entitled to 'help' another nation?

The article is well worth a read, as well as the debate it sparked from readers in response. One reader points out that in making his case, Wainaina utilises the same sort of stereotypes about Westerners that he accuses them of making in Africa. Perhaps this is Wainaina's aim? The satire is an attempt at holding up a mirror for his audience. But in doing so, he brings the argument on to an 'us and them' level, which surely just means drawing the battle lines. It's not helping anything is it? It's just another tiresome boundary.

As illustrated by Wainaina's anger, there is a fine line when we consider how we write about other cultures. Others often become very critical when we try to write about cultures outside our own. If we were born in a culture, and had lived outside it all our lives, I imagine having it in our blood would still allow us to write about it. But it depends how.

What qualifies us to write about something?

I suppose the fundamental rule to remember here goes back to that old chesnut of writing wisdom - 'write about what you know'. 

But I find this premise limiting. Surely the whole point with writing, is not to have rules. Rules exist as guidelines, advice for good practise. But if you really want to try your hand at writing from the point of view of a Tibetan monk, or a Nigerian electrician, or an Indian business man etc, do your research and then have a go...

Although, I warn you, it's bloody hard.

When writing stories, I find that mine are either obviously rooted in my own culture and class, or vaguely rooted in that culture without naming, or otherwise totally surreal stories that exist in otherworldly places. I sometimes find this annoying. Particularly now, when I am travelling.

I am in Colombia, and before that I was in Ecuador for a month. I see things daily that inspire me. I have a notebook where I collect images in words. Things that I see that I can use later. Details that I like, that I think could translate nicely between life and art. These aren't necessarily specific to a new Latin American culture. Just characters, people, places, things, a scene or exchange between people.

I have tried to start writing a story based on a man I liked who I passed everyday in Ecuador. His workshop was open to the street. He was old, and he sat every day at a machine. It looked like he was weaving. It took me a few days to figure out that he was making washing up brushes. After a few days there was a stack of finished brushes on the floor next to him in different colours. He was there when we walked to our Spanish school in the morning, and there in the same position, working away, when we walked home. Sometimes his family were around him in the workshop, eating dinner or talking with him, sometimes he was alone. But, in writing the story, I am finding it difficult to root it. How do I authenticate him? What voice do I use? What name and what characteristics to place him in his culture? My attempts are crass and inauthentic. In which case, I have attempted to lift him into an unnamed, unknown, universal place. But this seems too general at the moment to stick. The art is, after all, in the detail.

So, I don't really have an answer. But I do know from trying, that writing about other cultures is pretty tricky and maybe sort of impossible. If you do some extensive real-life research and find real people to slip on the skin of your characters, then maybe, just maybe...

We must remain aware, however, that if we choose to take such risks, we put ourselves up for higher criticism. Such is the nature of tribes, cultures and people. We are all protective of who we are and where we come from. If someone is trying to write about us, and they have not lived in our shoes, we of course, feel entitled to shoot them down at the first sign of weakness.

Oh, and as a final word, hats off to Zadie Smith. She writes bravely and authentically about race and the intermingling of cultures in Britain. 'White Teeth' (which I wrote about in a previous post) sees her confront the melting pot of British culture head-on. She succeeds in writing from the vantage point of three different cultures at once, because her characters are so authentic and recognisable. They come off as real. The art is is in the detail and she nails it. So maybe it can be done...