In the first month of officially sending Vol.1 out into the world, one of the first and earliest feedback I received from a bookstore in the UK was that it was “Too focused on Asia”.
(This remark on the content of Plates being too Asian was ironic considering that much of the food writing that exists today uses classic dishes and ingredients of Asian origin as click-bait trends [turmeric lattes or jackfruit burgers, anyone?] — but I will leave this for another day. Alternatively, you can read about why we need to send microaggressions in food writing back to the kitchen in the Durian issue. Meanwhile, the free online rant and my response to condescending ‘Thai fruits’ article by The New York Times’ can be accessed here.)
But back to the “too Asian” remark. I was, of course, gutted. And the jinx of meeting your heroes came true (again) for me in that moment. Because I had initially looked up to this bookstore and its magazine selection (i.e curation in retrospect). This was the space where I picked up my very first copy of slow journalism magazine, Delayed Gratification and food travel mag, Fare.
The life and the stories we choose to live and consume are results of our own curation too.
Nearly two years later, I’m still cold emailing independent bookstores around the world, and that comment has stuck with me. But not because it was something for me to come back to or to absorb as “constructive feedback” when planning future issues of this food culture magazine. Nor did it make me reconsider my original intention to focus on hyperlocal yet globally relevant issues.
It was simply a reminder of the world as it is.
That comment did, however, prompt me to re-question my purpose in continuing to pitch each biannual issue to bookstores in various suburban pockets.
Should I only go directly to the readers from now on?
Would my rebellion against the system, against gatekeepers (i.e no longer spending my time to reach out to selected spaces) be a disservice to other independent bookstore owners, the ones who I have yet to connect with, the ones who might care, but have yet to be acquainted with Plates?
This also made me wonder, who else was curated out/excluded from a bookshelf?
Assuming that all titles were equally of high aesthetic and editorial value, which of those narratives were deemed less profitable than the other? Why so?
And why was it, that it was perfectly okay for a magazine to be entirely focused and written by persons from, say the US or a Western European country, to be featured in that London bookstore without being labelled as “too niche”?; deeming those narratives and representations as the acceptable “norm”.
Of course, the same question of curation can be applied to a story.
Whose voices are left out? Who isn’t in the frame? And similarly, can be casted upon existing features in Plates, be it an investigative long-form piece or a photo essay; why these people and not those people? Why them and not me? Why someone and not everyone?
The answer is, as I’m slowly being reminded over the past couple of intense months, this magazine isn’t for everyone.
It’s not for the person who wants reassurance in white-washed narratives. It’s not for the person who seeks out “exotic” travel adventures. It’s not for the person who ‘gram-lusts over generous white space and nostalgic filter hues.
Those narratives, in their own right, have their tribes who see value in their aesthetics and direction. And I was one of them, back in the day, as I consumed everything and anything that was curated on the shelves for me.
Little did I realise, until recently, that the life and the stories we choose to live and consume are results of our own curation too.
P/S Check out (and support!) the independent bookstores who do celebrate alternative narratives, whether they’re listed here or not. (But I am really happy to share that some of them, here in the Plates’ list of stockists, are among the magazine’s early adopters and trusted partners, who very kindly entertained my long cold-emails and over-the-counter pitches, and have made every day in this solopreneur independent journalism venture possible.)
P/P/S If you know of any like-hearted independent spaces (speciality food stores, cafes, stationery stores, art spaces, etc) anywhere in the world and think we might be good for each other, please consider telling them about Plates and/or email your wishlist of potential stockists to me hello@platesmagazine.com.
