Mabrouk to all!

The celebrated Tamer Institute for Community Education recently held several events (Nov. 26-28) to encourage fathers to read to their children.

I see far too little about fathers reading with their children in Arabic, English, or any other language. The organization “Reading Rockets” has some advice, in English and Spanish, for fathers who want to help in their children’s pre-K literacy development.

Why should fathers read with their children? The “FRED” project (Fathers Reading Every Day) points out some research and reasons, but — in the main — I think we can guess: Children need role models if they’re to become lifelong readers, and this means the influence and encouragement of both parents (and grandparents, and other members of the extended family and community, insha’allah.)

In the US and UK, the word “translation” is often an instant buzz-kill for publishers. Most consider translation synonymous with “challenging,” and thus a turn-off for the average reader. Only 2-3 percent of all English books published every year are translated from other languages. The percentage of children’s books is certainly much smaller.

In the Arabic-reading world, however, the opposite is true. Most Arabic children’s books are translations. And yet “translation” can still be a dirty word. In Egypt, translation is often synonymous with the overwhelming mass of Mickey Mouse, Barney, and Dora books on the market.

Rehab Bassem, of leading children’s-book publisher Dar al-Shorouk, estimates that only 20 percent of their children’s fiction is translated from other languages. But closer to 75 or 80 percent of their nonfiction is translation. Balsam Saad, who founded Dar al-Balsam and Egypt’s first children’s bookstore, publishes primarily translations. In the store, she estimates that she carries a 50-50 split between original Arabic work and work in translation.

If we include Disney and other character-driven books published in Egypt, the percentage of works in translation is probably much higher. Indeed, children’s book authors and publishers often complain that translations are so numerous that they stifle local production. Go on; keep reading.

The field for 2011 was strong, and unlike 2010, when the judges said they all just knew immediately that النقطة السوداء  was the winner, judge Wendy Cooling said that this was “a really rich year for books for young children” in Arabic.

Other judges included last year’s winner, Walid Taher, eminent children’s book author and publisher Taghreed Najjar, Dr. Sabah Issawy, and Wafaa Terawska.

The 1 million AED Etisalat prize is shared by author and publisher (pictured). The author spoke with The National from her home in Cairo:

“I’m proud my ideas and way of writing have been recognised.

The book is about an orphan who went to live with some of her relatives and met a boy who helped her to adjust to her new life and get rid of her sad thoughts.

He gives her the idea to write her sad thoughts on a kite and then fly the kite so all the sad thoughts fly away.”

The focus of this blog is generally Arabic children’s books in Arabic. But, since I unfortunately write in English, my plea for a translated children’s literature:

And this is true for even the youngest readers. If we want adults who are interested in world literatures, then I believe we need to grow them.

Books for young readers are perhaps the most difficult to translate. In the translation of a really good picture book, not just every word matters, but every sound. When it doesn’t work—as with some of the Dr. Seuss translations into Arabic—it’s awful.

So why should we do the hard work of translating children’s books at all? Why buy your child طريقتي الخاصّة (which I believe will be published by Orion as My Own Private Way or My Own Special Way) or النقطة السوداء  (The Black Dot) or even Asterix when you could buy him something in his native setting? Because children who love books are innately interested in other worlds.

And children who love good books from around the world will, we hope, become adults who do the same.

Now, I don’t know how I would interact with this book if I had girls; I’m sure the politics of dress would be much more vivid. But I don’t. I have three boys: 8, 3, and nearly 8 months. Unexpectedly, my boys (well, the two older ones) really enjoy this book.

Although conventional wisdom says that boy don’t read books with girls in them, my boys—particularly the oldest—are interested in this “foreign world” of girls.

My eight-year-old speaks on their behalf: “What I like about this book is all the little details, like the details about how they put on their hijabat. Like one of the sisters, for instance, is always drinking something, in almost all the pictures, she has a drink with a straw.”

“طريقتي الخاصة” will be translated into English and published by Orion.

1  طيري ياطيارة – تأليف أماني العشماوي ورسوم هنادي سليط – من دار نهضة مصر – مصر‎pic.twitter.com/6P8IH6y1‏

2 -نصائح مهملة – تأليف زكريا تامر ورسوم رؤوف الكراي – من دار الحدائق – لبنان ‎pic.twitter.com/BVtiI1CJ‏

3 – لماذا لا أرى مايرون – تأليف د.نجلاء نصير ورسوم لينا مرهج – من دار تاله – لبنان ‎pic.twitter.com/HQR4Pdt2

4 – عندما مرضت صديقتي – تأليف سمر محفوظ ورسوم سنان حلاق – من دار يوكي برس للطباعة والنشر والتوزيع ‎pic.twitter.com/BFZfW7N1‏

5 – أمي والتدخين – تأليف سمر محفوظ ورسوم ميرا المير من دار أصالة للنشر والتوزيع – لبنان ‎pic.twitter.com/mEEvgkfX‏

These are in no particular order, so, in English, in a different order: My Mother and Smoking by Asala Publishers (Lebanon); Fly Away Plane by Nahdet Misr (Egypt); When My Friend Got Sick by Yuki Press (Lebanon); Why Don’t I See What You See by Tala Educational Means (Lebanon); and Neglected Tips by Al Hadaek Group (Lebanon).

A strong showing for Lebanon and for Samar! Just based on the awesome cover, I am going to roll with Samar and Sinan’s  عندما مرضت صديقتي. Although I also have a weak spot for anything that might stop even one person from smoking around children.