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Poor Kaavya.

Had a splashing success of a debut novel, signed a lucrative two-book deal with her publisher and there were even talks that DreamWorks was acquiring the film rights to How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life.

Then her shelf life ended prematurely when she was sniffed out like a moldy Stilton. Books pulled off shelves, publishing deal cancelled and if there ever is a movie, it’ll be most likely based on her: how a bright young Harvard student managed to con the literary world.

Don’t feel so sorry for her though. At least she got herself featured in Time magazine. (Even if it was a story on her fall from grace.) Well, she’s not a bad-looking girl - maybe she has a future endorsing things like…baloney.

And if imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then young adult novelist Megan McCafferty and chick lit darling Sophie Kinsella should both feel so flattered, seeing as how Kaavya all but carbon-copied large chunks of text from their books.

The 19-year-old’s defence is that she has a photographic memory and had "unintentionally" used phrases from her favourite books, believing the words to be her own.

Many have their doubts. Do I believe her?

Well, it is possible to be influenced by a writer’s style and technique, especially one whose works you admire and have read a number of times. And I think when you’re young, you’re still apprehensive of your own command of your chosen craft - be it writing, art, music or filmmaking. You’re still struggling to find your own identity and voice. And as a result, your ’style’ becomes merely an amalgam of components plucked from various sources of inspiration.

Of course, as an aspiring writer and an avid reader, I tried to emulate James Joyce’s prose or Dylan Thomas’ rhymes.

There will always be bands that do covers. There will always be artists who try to paint like Picasso. And there will always be writers who plagiarise. But there’s simply no joy in reproduction (unless it’s of the sexual kind).

Of course, I know I’ll never be as good as ol’ Ernest or Dylan, and I’m never going to win a Nobel Prize for Literature for writing like Toni Morrison. Then again, no one ever won it for writing like someone else. But in the end, at least I know the words I have are my own and will always be deeply personal even if they don’t resonate with everyone else.

I realized, after all, I have to find my own voice instead of borrowing someone else’s.

And I hope Kaavya finds hers too. As I do you.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 20th, 2006 at 3:21 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.