When writers might take some of the blame - Jo Carroll.
As many of you know, I've been to Nepal.
It was evident, within a few hours of my arrival, that many tourists have deserted Nepal. Talking with friends there, it seems that cancellations began the day after the earthquake. One big quake, it seems, is enough for most people to believe the country is shaken to the core - and will carry on shaking. While a few backpackers are making their way back, the big tour groups are still staying away. Without tourists - and their foreign money - Nepal cannot earn the income she needs to rebuild.
'It's the journalists' fault,' Ajay told me. 'They were here for two days, took plenty of pictures of the earthquake damage, and then left us to it. No one has come back, seen how things are now.'
He's right - anyone who saw those images might think that the whole of Kathmandu was flattened.
I took this picture from his balcony, looking over the rooftops of the city:
Does this look flattened?
Disasters make good stories - I get that. And sometimes stories can be a way of making sense of disasters - I get that too.
But maybe writers also have a responsibility to rewrite some of those stories to remind the rest of the world that life has gone on. I'm a travel writer, so you can expect me to tell it as it is. But fiction writers? Yes, even fiction writers.
In spite of anything we might watch on Saturday night television we don't believe that everyone in Scandinavia is a murderer. Nor (regrettably) is every Sicilian as beautiful as Montalbano. Yet how long will it be before we have books or programmes highlighting the beauty of Tunisia? Or the welcome that one can find in Iran (my neighbours have just returned from a wonderful, safe, holiday in Iran)? Or in Sharm el Sheikh? Or even in Paris? Will I be a lone voice reminding people of the wonders of Nepal?
I don't suppose those journalists feel that they have abandoned Nepal, or any other country touched by disaster. They were simply doing their jobs. But my friends in Nepal have reminded me that we can - and I think we should - also tell stories of recovery and of hope.
If you want to read some of my hopeful tales, there are links to my books on my website here.
It was evident, within a few hours of my arrival, that many tourists have deserted Nepal. Talking with friends there, it seems that cancellations began the day after the earthquake. One big quake, it seems, is enough for most people to believe the country is shaken to the core - and will carry on shaking. While a few backpackers are making their way back, the big tour groups are still staying away. Without tourists - and their foreign money - Nepal cannot earn the income she needs to rebuild.
'It's the journalists' fault,' Ajay told me. 'They were here for two days, took plenty of pictures of the earthquake damage, and then left us to it. No one has come back, seen how things are now.'
He's right - anyone who saw those images might think that the whole of Kathmandu was flattened.
I took this picture from his balcony, looking over the rooftops of the city:
Does this look flattened?
Disasters make good stories - I get that. And sometimes stories can be a way of making sense of disasters - I get that too.
But maybe writers also have a responsibility to rewrite some of those stories to remind the rest of the world that life has gone on. I'm a travel writer, so you can expect me to tell it as it is. But fiction writers? Yes, even fiction writers.
In spite of anything we might watch on Saturday night television we don't believe that everyone in Scandinavia is a murderer. Nor (regrettably) is every Sicilian as beautiful as Montalbano. Yet how long will it be before we have books or programmes highlighting the beauty of Tunisia? Or the welcome that one can find in Iran (my neighbours have just returned from a wonderful, safe, holiday in Iran)? Or in Sharm el Sheikh? Or even in Paris? Will I be a lone voice reminding people of the wonders of Nepal?
I don't suppose those journalists feel that they have abandoned Nepal, or any other country touched by disaster. They were simply doing their jobs. But my friends in Nepal have reminded me that we can - and I think we should - also tell stories of recovery and of hope.
If you want to read some of my hopeful tales, there are links to my books on my website here.
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