One of the
most surprising discoveries we – or perhaps just I – have made, on moving to
this large land mass, is that other people in the world don’t know what a kiwi
(bird) is. We kiwis find so much of our
identity in that little fluffy guy who has a nocturnal nature, a long beak, and
a lack of flight and site, that we assumed he was well known. He’s not!
I remember feeling such a strong sense of indignation when a character in book asked her mother to pass her a kiwi that I considered writing to the author and telling her she’d left a word out, it’s a kiwi fruit. I think I was eight. It didn’t occur to me that nothing else was called a kiwi in their world so they didn’t need to distinguish between the bird and the fruit.
I remember feeling such a strong sense of indignation when a character in book asked her mother to pass her a kiwi that I considered writing to the author and telling her she’d left a word out, it’s a kiwi fruit. I think I was eight. It didn’t occur to me that nothing else was called a kiwi in their world so they didn’t need to distinguish between the bird and the fruit.
No comments:
Post a Comment