The leader of the writers’ symposium shook her head. “In pitches for your stories, you must compare your work to American authors.”

“Not even the British?” I asked. I had compared the current story I’m writing, part of a mystery series, to the novels of a couple of English mystery authors.

“Not even the British. Has to be American.”

The British, who practically invented the cozy mystery, who birthed Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers, were not be mentioned in a pitch for a story? I guess not.

I should have been forewarned. Other times when I’ve pitched stories to editors or agents, I’ve seen them shake their heads. “The market for stories other than those with a domestic setting is slim.”

“Even with American characters?”

“Even with American characters.”

Growing up, I loved Kate Seredy’s stories of Hungarians. Others stories with Russian, French, German, Mexican, and of course British characters inhabited my childhood years. Granted, stories based in Africa or South America were rarely available in the public library of my childhood, but the global stories it held were favorites.

The United States is a large country. Like other large countries, such as India and Russia, we tend toward strong nationalism, toward an us and them outlook. Such nations develop strong creative impulses in literature, music, and art.

Yet, our ignorance of other countries and their cultures can lead to poor decisions in our relations with the world. The last war with Iraq is now considered a mistake by many Americans of both political parties.

To study other countries and read stories with international settings does not reflect poorly on the loyalty we have for our own accomplishments. In fact, one of the reasons for our country’s vitality is the stream of immigrants that flow into it from other cultures.

Most of us enjoy geography in music: a Polish polka, a German symphony, a Mexican dance, an African hymn. What about geography through fiction?