foreword
by Julia Rampen, author of The Bay
I grew up listening to the stories of migrants. My dad's first impressions of the UK, often amusing, and my grandfather's more sobering account of finding himself without his parents, aged ten, in a cold country about to be invaded by the Nazis. But beyond the stories of the actual journeys, what was interesting to me was the newcomer's perspective, even if later on that perspective has become the memory of an old hand who has spent more of their life in the country they moved to than most of those who were born there.
The newcomer's perspective, I believe, is essential for a writer, wherever they are born. Knowing that the way things are done is only one way, that at this time in another country kids are skating on a frozen lake, or trying to do their homework in a scheduled power cut, gives you a heightened awareness of what is common and what is strange. For this reason, I would argue that writers who migrate, whether by choice or otherwise, are likely to be the most compelling of all, if they are given the platform to tell the stories they want to tell.
That's why The Other Side of Hope is so important. Every author knows that the publishing world is skewed towards the well-connected, the well-off, and the well-known. Breaking into publishing is particularly hard to those who have arrived as a stranger, especially those who have mastered English as a second language. The Other Side of Hope, edited by migrants and refugees, is a showcase of what talent is out there, despite these obstacles.
One in seven people in the UK came here as a migrant, which is reason enough to amplify refugee and migrant voices. But there's another. Too often, politicians and commentators talk about migrants without making space for the nuanced, funny, hard-hitting, perceptive voices of migrants themselves. But we as readers want to hear them.
The newcomer's perspective, I believe, is essential for a writer, wherever they are born. Knowing that the way things are done is only one way, that at this time in another country kids are skating on a frozen lake, or trying to do their homework in a scheduled power cut, gives you a heightened awareness of what is common and what is strange. For this reason, I would argue that writers who migrate, whether by choice or otherwise, are likely to be the most compelling of all, if they are given the platform to tell the stories they want to tell.
That's why The Other Side of Hope is so important. Every author knows that the publishing world is skewed towards the well-connected, the well-off, and the well-known. Breaking into publishing is particularly hard to those who have arrived as a stranger, especially those who have mastered English as a second language. The Other Side of Hope, edited by migrants and refugees, is a showcase of what talent is out there, despite these obstacles.
One in seven people in the UK came here as a migrant, which is reason enough to amplify refugee and migrant voices. But there's another. Too often, politicians and commentators talk about migrants without making space for the nuanced, funny, hard-hitting, perceptive voices of migrants themselves. But we as readers want to hear them.
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