The making of a plagiarist
(From The Japan Times May 7 issue)

ハーバード大女子学生に対する盗作疑惑

    Salman Rushdie summed up the critics' case shortly before Ms. Viswanathan's publisher announced May 2 that it was scrapping plans for a revised version of her embattled novel, How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life, in which traces of at least three other books have been detected, including Mr. Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories. "I know when I write a book, it's my name on the book, so I stand or fall by what I sign," the Indian-born British novelist said. "And so must she."

    In a way, that should be the last word on what the young writer did. It doesn't really matter whether you call it theft, as the victims do, or "unintentional" reproduction, as Ms. Viswanathan did when confronted with dozens of similarities between her book and another writer's work. You pass off someone else's work as your own, and you pay the price — usually fame of a kind you never wanted, followed by professional oblivion.

    Yet somehow it seems disgrace shouldn't be quite the last word in this case. Ms. Viswanathan's youth contributes to that feeling, as Mr. Rushdie has conceded. He felt sorry, he said, that "this young girl, pushed by the needs of a publishing machine and, no doubt, by her ambition, should have fallen into this trap so early in her career."

    That seems closer to a fair response. The truth is, Ms. Viswanathan appears to have been almost as much victim as miscreant, caving in to enormous and disparate pressures that converged on her in a sort of perfect storm. Observers in Japan might well ask how many of those pressures are brought to bear on young people in the country where prestigious educations and professional success are huge priorities.

    Ms. Viswanathan is the only child of wealthy parents. After the family emigrated to the United States, their goal for her — as with so many parents but especially many high-achieving Asian-Americans — was an Ivy League college, preferably the perceived U.S. gold standard, Harvard. They hired a college admissions adviser, who found the young writer a literary agent, who in turn referred her to a "book packager" — all of whom not only got her into Harvard but helped her land a two-book contract, a half-million-dollar advance and a movie deal before she turned 18.

    And what was her first novel about? A pretty Indian-American teenager so anxious to please her parents and get into Harvard that the admissions dean advises her that she will be rejected if she doesn't lighten up. Hence the elaborate plan for Opal Mehta to "get a life."

    Not to demonize anyone, but two elements of Ms. Viswanathan's success story are disturbing: the parents, with their misguided expectations, and the gaggle of advisers bent on shaping an eager, promising kid into a "marketable" writing machine.

    Parental pressure is old news, and this case offers one more reason for those who suspect they might be overdoing things to pull back. But the role of the people who "helped" Ms. Viswanathan launch her literary career is a new one to most of us. Nothing about it seems good. The packagers, it seems, had so much input as regards plot, characters and language that it is often unclear where their contributions end and the supposed author's begin. Ms. Viswanathan said before the scandal broke that her original book concept had been "darker," but she was told it would not sell. She was steered instead into crafting the slick, airy bubble eventually published in her name.

    This is just sad. For one thing, Ms. Viswanathan might have felt less need to plagiarize had she not been discouraged from using her own voice. She might have produced something of actual literary merit. For another, it is obvious that such practices will breed plagiarism the way a swamp breeds mosquitoes.

    If a publisher is so comfortable with a packager's creative role that it puts the firm's name on the contract, as happened in this case, it's not surprising if a young author starts to feel words are all just common property, part of the "process." Who knows, indeed, whether it was Ms. Viswanathan or her packagers who did the original plagiarizing?

    None of this is an excuse, as we have said. But it is an explanation. And a timely warning to overeager parents everywhere not to project their ambitions onto their children — or to push them too soon into the corrupting maelstrom of the market.

The Japan Times Weekly: May 13, 2006
(C) All rights reserved

    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life という小説を出版して評判になったヴィスワナタンさんは、疑惑に対し身の潔白を証明できず、出版社は各国の書店からこの本を回収、改訂版の出版予定も取り止めとなった。

    問題の小説には、著名なインド出身作家サルマン・ラシュディ氏の「ハルーンとお話の海」を含む少なくとも3作品からの盗作の形跡があるといわれる。

    盗作か、ヴィスワナタンさんが主張するように故意ではない原作の混入かは本質的問題でない。ただ他者の作品を自分のものとして出版すれば、高い代償を払わねばならない。

    ラシュディ氏は「若い女性が、出版社の商業主義と自身の野心に釣られてワナに落ちたのは残念だ」という。

    この問題は、有名大学卒の学歴と職業的成功が若い世代に強いプレッシャーになっている日本でもよい反省材料になる。

    ヴィスワナタンさんは、裕福な一家の一人娘で、米国に移住した。彼女は両親の望む通りハーバード大学に入学しただけでなく、18歳の誕生日前に2冊の本の出版契約と映画化契約に成功した。

    だが、出版社と連絡役を務めた代理人は、小説の筋、登場人物、言葉遣いに注文をつけ、どちらが著者か分からない状態だったという。

    自分のスタイルで作品作りができたなら、ヴィスワナタンさんも盗作する必要がなく、文学的価値の高い創作を行うことができたかもしれない。結局、商業主義の圧力が盗作の温床になっているのだ。

    盗作をしたのはヴィスワナタンさんなのか、代理人なのか。

    今さら言い訳をしても始まらないが、この問題は、子供に過剰期待をし、商業主義に利用される親に対する厳しい警告になる。