January 2021

NATASHA DEEN’S confession? She didn’t grow up wanting to be a writer. The deeper confession? She really wanted to be a superhero. Her family moved from Guyana to Canada to escape the country’s growing racial and political violence.

She loved growing up in a country of snow and flannel, but sometimes, being the only mixed-race kid in class meant being bullied and feeling invisible because there were no reflections of her on TV or in movies, and it meant growing up feeling different from everybody. Thank goodness for books and comic books. They were full of weird, oddball, don’t-quite-fit-in characters who turned out to be amazing and cool and found their happy endings.

These days, Natasha writes for kids and teens, and she loves mixing mystery, action, and creepy with a whole lot of humour. Her books have been described as “gripping” (School Library Connection), “engaging” (CM Magazine) and “feel good” (VOYA).

First, tell us a little bit about yourself. How did you get your start as an author?

I read a terrible book. Truly, deeply, horrendous, grievously terrible book. You know the type—dysfunction masquerading as quirks, toxic behaviour pretending to be chic and modern.

After I wrestled with the urge to toss the book (I didn’t. It’s not the book’s fault that the author failed it), I thought, “Either writing is much harder than I think, or this author doesn’t care about her readers.” Immediately after that thought came the second, “Great opinion. So easy to sit on the sidelines and judge. How about you get in there and write a book?”

So, I climbed in the ring, and I learned I was right and wrong. Writing is much, much harder than I thought and yes, the author didn’t do her due diligence. I’m often asked about books that inspire and lift me up, books that I don’t just love, I lurve. While I have an endless list of those types of books, I have to thank the author of the book that irritated me, because she taught me the most important lesson when it comes to writing, respect your reader.

This month’s newsletter is a celebration of Own Voices. Why do you think it is important for everyone to tell their own story?

When I was growing up, every spring and summer my white friends would run up to me, shoving their forearms next to mine, and crow, “Soon, I’ll be darker than you!” And I’d laugh because who doesn’t love having their skin colour reduced to a swatch patch?

These moments would push me down a tunnel to the past, when I was a child surrounded by a group of my elders, all of them clucking sympathetically, and murmuring, “It’s so sad that you’re so dark. You’ll never amount to anything.” Then—out of a genuine sense of love and protection—counselling me to adjust any big dreams to small goals based on security and survival.

The discussion about Own Voices is complex and there are no easy answers. When we talk about Own Voices, I feel that we are talking about books that are specifically focused on unique and personal experiences that imagination and research cannot match. Own Voice authors offer a nuanced view into what living their lives truly means. They catch the subtlties of behaviour, the code-switching of language, and the subtext when walking in a world that doesn’t always see or value them.

But they also understand the full breadth and depth of their lived experience. While my parents immigrating to Canada meant leaving behind everything—money, possessions, family and friends—to come to a new country with only two suitcases between four people, I understand that not every immigrant experience is like this. My story, In the Key of Nira Ghani, cannot be the only book that represents the immigrant experience.

There are many facets to our lives and they deserve space and place to be told.  If we don’t encourage and celebrate all voices, all types of experiences within a category, and continue the push for Own Voices narratives, we run the risk of having a tunnel-view of what it means to be part of a specific community. It leads to pigeon-holing and harms members of that community when people outside of it begin to demand they fit unrealistic and incorrect parameters.

Dana L. Davis, and African-American actress in Hollywood and an Own Voices author, once shared a story about reading for a part. After she had finished, the director said, “You’re over-eunciating. Do it, again, but don’t over-euncaite.” In other words, she was speaking too clearly for a Black Woman. Mystified, she wondered how and why the director thought Black Women incapable of enunciating.

In the Amy Mathers’ November 30, 2020 Podcast, L.D. Crichton and Amy Mathers discussed the importance of stepping into someone else’s life and walking away with empathy, appreciation, and understanding for another person’s lived experience. S.K. Ali talked about the mosque shooting in Quebec city and how the gunman’s view of Muslims came “from the stories around him,” and the importance of “seeking out what we don’t know,” and reading the stories of people from different backgrounds to get their viewpoints and perspectives.

In other words, we need authors, of all walks of life, to share their stories so we get a true and realistic understanding of the world. We need Own Voices so those stories are authentic and respectful to the communities from which they originate, and we need to read those stories to debuse the notion of The Other, and to see how alike we are—regardless of gender, sexual orientation, race, or religion—because it makes the world safer and brighter for us all.

In the Key of Nira Ghani was the 2020 winner of the Amy Mathers Teen Book Award. What inspired you to write this story and was it in any way based on your own experiences growing up?

Nira is a story about many things, an immigrant teen, a girl trying to find her place among her friends, a daughter seeking the right to live her dreams instead of living out her parents’ dreams, and the magic of a good cup of tea. But it’s also the origin story of a girl who will become the family’s matriarch and a story about finding agency, power, and claiming identity.

In many ways, my childhood inspired Nira’s story. My parents did have that fight over the BBQ, I did (and do) spend a lot of time explaining, “No, no, I spent my early childhood in Guyana, not Ghana,” and I did struggle with growing up among affluent kids while my family tried to recoup the financial losses of moving to a new country.

But in a lot of ways, Nira’s story is universal. We’ve all felt like the outsider, we’ve all struggled to find and claim our space and identity. I dare say that a lot of us have secretly crushed on that seemingly unattainable person and hoped they would look our way. And how many of us have had the flash of hot-cold when discovering a family secret or uncovering a new way of viewing our elders?

Nira took a long time to write, but she was worth every minute. I love getting reader feedback and hearing from people who say things like, “I’m not an immigrant, but my family struggled financially, and I really saw myself in Nira,” “I am Guyanese, and this is the first time I saw myself in a book,” “This book made me laugh,” “This book made me cry.”

That’s the wild, cool thing with being a writer, isn’t it? We pluck the threads of our lives, twine them together with the threads of other people’s experiences, add in imagination, and weave a blanket of vibrant, beautiful colours that keeps our readers warm when the nights are cold and blocks the sun when its heat is too intense.

With the beginning of a new year, it’s a good time to look ahead. What do you hope to see in the future of Canadian books for young people?

Right now, we have novels that explore the experiences of White folk, Cisgender people, BIPOCs, queer and religious communities, stories that ask hard questions about who we are as a society and as individuals. But we also have books that relish the joy of being human—the moments of laughing with friends so hard we can’t breathe, the times when that family member hugs us and it feels like all of the love in the universe is held in their arms—and still, STILL!, there are adventures on different worlds, spy thrillers, creepy horrors, and mind-boggling whodunnits that have us reading late into the night.

What gives light to this landscape is that Canadian authors, publishers, and readers aren’t satisfied with the status quo. There is a hunger for more stories of all stripes, more diversity, inclusion, and embracing of Own Voices. We continue to ask for books that represent and celebrate all facets of the human experience and the Canadian experience. I love that there are chairs being added to the table every day and that today’s readers have a vast and growing storehouse from which to pull the story they want to read.

What projects are you working on now? Can you tell us about any upcoming books?

Right now, I’m working on an early-reader book that mostly involves me begging my brain to get into gear and get some words on the page!

As for upcoming books, I’m very excited because this year is the release of Maria and the Plague, a Girls’ Survive story from Capstone books. When I was researching the Black Plague, I had no idea the world was about to experience COVID-19, and the same struggles and fears that Maria has to face, we would have to face, as well. Maria battles to survive, and through her struggles, she both gives and receives kindness, courage, and love.

I saw this mirrored in 2020. Yes, there were people fighting over toilet paper and folks arguing over masks, but there were also landlords forgiving rent, laughter during meetings when someone’s pet photobombed the camera, and neighbours dropping off care packages. In the midst of one of the most trying times for our world, there was hope, love, and laughter. Holding to those moments and seeking ways to create those moments made me feel optimistic that not only would we endure and survive, but we would thrive. I’m proud that the same light and love and the push for hope and kindness that I saw in my real-life world are mirrored in the pages of Maria’s story.

Maria and the Plague: Years of bad weather and natural disasters have choked Italy’s food supply, and the people of Florence are dying of starvation. Breadlines are battlegrounds, and young Maria has to fight for her family’s every loaf. Adding to the misery, the Black Plague is rapidly spreading through the country, killing everyone in its path. Maria has already lost her mother and sister. Will she be strong enough to save the rest of her family before it’s too late?

Find out more about Natasha on her website, natashadeen.com.