Writing about Aksara
There seems to be no trace of my magazine Aksara on the internet. I will have to correct that - I still have dusty copies of the magazine somewhere. My kids should at least see them.
As some will know, my partner in crime then was Winfred. Still one of my most favourite people in the world ever - and I hope he will read this one day (you are loved!) - Winfred was a believer in guts and gumption, for a time. He took a gamble - he takes many - on our many ideas, and for that we are in eternal gratitude.
I tried showing some of my thankfulness in this article below. I don't normally recommend writing about one's friends. But who am I kidding? An article about a writer who I believe continued writing.
https://www.library.ohio.edu/indopubs/2001/10/25/0034.html
From: apakabar@saltmine.radix.net
Date: Thu Oct 25 2001 - 20:29:19 EDT
FEER(11/1) Long-term Literary Revival Sought In Indonesia
By DINI DJALAL IN JAKARTA
DEWI LESTARI, author of the best-selling and critically acclaimed novel Supernova, has a confession to make: She has read little Western or Indonesian literature, not even the works of Indonesia's most famous writer, Pramoedya Ananta Toer.
Considering that the 26-year-old first-time novelist has been hailed for both her bold narrative style and her literary promise (renowned author Taufiq Ismail described her novel as "a breath of fresh air"), the revelation is startling. But Lestari says Indonesia's insular and elitist literary world needs neophytes like her to introduce fresh perspectives -- and more readers.
"I'm trying to popularize literature," says Lestari, whose structurally innovative romantic novel intertwines science with spirituality. "It should be entertaining, cool, and a trend-setter."
Lestari isn't leading a one-woman revolution. Other Indonesians, too, are trying make literature more accessible. Once viewed as mere extensions of office-supply stores, bookshops have sprung up in major cities and are enjoying rising sales. New publishing companies have also appeared -- Lestari established her own, Truedee Books, after publishers kept sending her novel away -- and so have literary journals and underground fanzines. Creative writing is slowly becoming an attractive profession.
Still, the fact remains that Indonesians by and large don't read. Supernova became a hit by selling just 14,000 copies -- not much for a country of 220 million people. According to the Indonesian Publishers Association, some 3,000 titles were published last year (including reissues and school textbooks). That's less than half the number produced each year in Malaysia and Thailand, which have far smaller populations. A recent study by the writer Ismail, who also heads the literary foundation Yayasan Indonesia, indicated that Indonesian high-school students are never asked to read anything other than textbooks; their counterparts in the United States will consume an average of 30 non textbooks over the course of their education.
Despite a rich and diverse literary heritage -- ranging from the complex folk tales of Java to West Sumatra's allegorical poetry -- sales of novels are so slack in Indonesia that many writers get more recognition abroad than at home. Their potential readers are far more likely to turn on the TV than open a book.
IF YOU'RE LOOKING for signs of literary life in Indonesia, go along to the Aksara bookstore in Jakarta. Opened just a year ago by 30-year-old Winfred Hutabarat -- mainly to satisfy his own appetite for books -- it has seen sales rise by about 20% a month, and its owner is now planning a second branch. Indonesian books account for 30% of sales, even though they make up a much smaller share of the inventory.
"There is certainly a market which you can cultivate," says Hutabarat, referring to the growing numbers of foreign and local customers seeking out Indonesian literature. Still, he has few illusions about the difficulty in popularizing reading. Hutabarat believes part of the problem is that his customers never had a chance to develop an interest in literature while at school. Literature is currently not mandatory in the national curriculum; when it is offered, it's given separately from courses in Bahasa Indonesia, the official language. By contrast, other countries use literature as a way of understanding the language, says John McGlynn, editor of the not-for-profit publishing house Lontar, which translates Indonesian literature into English. Says the U.S.-born McGlynn: "Unless national education policy changes, the prospect for literature here remains limited."
The curriculum was a product of the New Order regime under former President Suharto, a dictator who found any criticism distasteful -- hence its reliance on learning by rote in place of classroom discussion and debate. Literature was one of many forms of public expressions quashed by the New Order's anti-communist crusade. Scores of writers like Pramoedya were banished to prison, and their writings burned and banned.
Joesoef Isak was one of them. The writer and former journalist spent 10 years in jail for alleged leftist leanings. When he was released in the late 1970s, he found life outside prison just as repressive. Hasta Mitra Publishing, which Isak founded as a forum for the censored and disenfranchised, faced persistent interference from the state, leading it to focus on the works of Pramoedya, which were banned domestically but popular overseas. The gamble paid off; Pramoedya went on to win the Magsaysay award for literature, his novels are now best-sellers, and many believe a Nobel prize cannot be far off. Yet it will take much longer, says Isak, to rebuild the creativity crushed by decades of prohibition. "For 30 years we were made dumb, and we are still living in the remains of this dumbed-down culture," he says.
Some restrictions issued under Suharto remain. To publish a book, you need the authorization of the attorney-general. But even today, that's still not automatic. Says McGlynn: "If there's any hope for Indonesian literature, the government has to step back, regardless of what the literature expresses."
Nonpolitical factors have also curbed the growth of the publishing industry. Four years of economic crisis have done little to spur interest in what many Indonesians -- understandably -- consider a luxury. "If Indonesians want escape and fantasy, they turn on the television," quips Winarno, director of Grasindo Publishing, which is part of country's biggest media firm, the Kompas Gramedia Group. The cash-crunch fuels a domino effect: Writers stop writing if no one can afford to buy their books.
But some industry players say writers themselves are often to blame. Censorship is not as relevant as before, but "writers still use that excuse," says McGlynn. Former political prisoner Isak adds that old-timers like Pramoedya are still writing while their younger counterparts "have not responded to the opportunities before them with equal creativity."
Another hindrance to a sustained literary renaissance is evident at book launches, where the crowd is nearly always the same. Novelist Lestari says some members of this tight-knit group call her a "bastard child." They don't like the fact that she doesn't have a background in literature, sings with a pop group, and poses happily for glossy magazines. Lestari pursues literature the same way she does music, with pop sensibilities; book signings are held down at the shopping mall, rather than at poetry readings. Lestari isn't alone in wanting to melt the snobbery about pop culture. Daniel Ziv, editor of cultural magazine Djakarta!, says books like Supernova are popular because "they don't reek of highbrow exclusivity."
Better business savvy might also boost sales. Smaller publishers try to draw in bookstores with sparse leaflets that list only titles and prices. Sales calls are rare, making it "difficult for buyers to be intrigued," says shopowner Hutabarat. Worse, titles are rarely reprinted; in five years' time you may need to visit a secondhand bookshop to get a copy of Supernova. Distribution is limited to major towns and cities.
Many writers and poets also focus on writing for literary journals, thus depriving them of the future royalties they'd get from book sales with a more mainstream audience. Describing this body of work as "lost literature," Lontar's McGlynn plans to work with the National Documentation Centre to form a digital library. "There's so much out there, we cannot reissue all of it," says McGlynn.
Other ideas, too, could help foster Indonesian literature. Since cassettes cost half the price of a book, McGlynn wants to put novels on tape. Audio books would also appeal better to the many societies that remain largely oral but have a rich literary tradition. Referring to the Javanese shadow puppetry based on the Mahabharata and Ramayana epics, McGlynn says that "an old man who can recite the entire wayang is not illiterate."
But for all the efforts at fostering and preserving Indonesian literature, there is a less visible threat to its growth. "Many writers become celebrities," says publisher Winarno. "They write too many columns, and lose sight of producing literature." For now at least, that's the path Dewi Lestari seems to be following. Despite having expanded the audience for books, she isn't interested in other authors or even in writing another novel; her next project is a solo pop album. "It's better to diversify one creation than to put out 10 titles," says Lestari. The "creation," it seems, is not her writing, but herself.
For more articles about Aksara Books, read here:
http://www.expat.or.id/info/bookstores.html
https://www.indoindians.com/7-recommended-bookshops-in-jakarta/