What is an [non-American] Author?

Carlin Romano's essay in The Chronicle explores some problematic features of the international (read: non-American) publishing industry. Simply put, he echoes the twenty-year-old remarks of Anne-Solange Noble in her essay "The Joys of Selling Rights to America," in which she outlines the shortcomings of American publishers that impede non-American authors' ability to be published in America: "American editors can't read foreign languages. American houses refuse to pay more than skinflint prices for European books. American publishers insist on making a large profit on a translated book. American publishers demand state translation subsidies from countries where books originate..., European books don't travel well..." In other words, America is a persistently difficult place for Others to become authors. Romano continues, lamenting this lack of exposure of worthy international authors, noting how Americans are missing out on some very diverse and worthwhile literature. His conclusion echoes David Bellows' call to either "adopt a common tongue" or "learn the other languages we need," lest we become "shameful" (non)participants in international literary culture.

So what does this have to do with authorship, anyway? And is Romano's final analysis bringing anything new or interesting to the conversation?

We might explore two avenues to authorship construction via Romano's article. Instead of rambling on, however, I'll pose these as questions that we can hopefully interrogate together. First, can we safely travel to a distinction between "authorship" and "American authorship" based on language, culture, and international relations? As many of us know, English has become an almost undisputed Lingua Franca in business, politics, education, and so on. Increasingly, English speakers expect to be understood universally and the world, largely, abides by this demand out of politicoeconomic (yes, I know this is not really a word) considerations. So are we supposed to be surprised that this situation occurs in the publishing world as well?

Second, do you agree that the problem "is probably closer to the historical norm on this planet than the culture of translation that seems natural and unavoidable around the world today?" In fact, what does this even mean? Does he mean that the American problem is not uniquely American, that it is in fact historically consistent? Do you agree/disagree? Why?

Finally, if we take this article seriously and uncover its implications in terms of authorship? Does it complicate authorship if we impose borders--linguistic, nationalistic, economic, cultural--on textual productions? What are we left with? Are there multiple models of authorship relative to one's position within/out borders? If so, what would this course look like in a different part of the world? What, then, do we make of Romano's argument that these problems are easily fixed by multilingualism? (I mean to suggest that Romano is shortsighted and focused only on the linguistic borders present instead of the cultural borders)