India ghosts, the West toasts: literary marvels that need recognition back home
- Sanjana Sharma
- Jun 25
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 14
Of stories that await, we bear the weight.
Every year, the same curious pattern repeats itself: a debut novel by an Indian-origin writer lights up the literary world overseas, reviewed in The New York Times, praised by The New Yorker, and even longlisted for the Booker Prize. But back home, in India, the response is almost ghostly. The book barely makes a ripple in the media; it doesn’t command pride of place in airport bookstores, nor does it trend on Bookstagram. Unless you’re deep in the folds of literary Twitter, chances are you haven’t heard of it.
This isn’t a case of Western gatekeepers unearthing some hidden talent. These books are searing, lyrical, and charged with the complexity of India’s politics, history, and contradictions. Yet they rarely make it onto bestseller lists or into everyday conversations. This isn’t a failure of taste but a question of reach.
Hidden gems
Consider A Burning by Megha Majumdar, which traces three intertwined lives in contemporary India, revealing how ambition, injustice, and public opinion collide in a society on edge.
Or The Illuminated by Anindita Ghose, which traces a woman and her daughter navigating grief and identity after the sudden death of her husband, a respected scholar. The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay follows a young woman from Bangalore to a remote town in Kashmir, seeking answers about her late mother, only to confront how little she truly knows of the people and places around her.
Pico Iyer’s The Half-Known Life carries us from Ladakh to Jerusalem, Japan to Varanasi, meditating on the pursuit of paradise in a fractured world, suggesting that peace might be less a place than a perspective. And then there is Cobalt Red by Siddharth Kara, an investigative reckoning with the human cost behind one of the world’s most coveted resources, amplifying voices too often lost in global conversations.
The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay follows a young woman from Bangalore to a remote town in Kashmir, seeking answers about her late mother, only to confront how little she truly knows of the people and places around her. Pico Iyer’s The Half-Known Life carries us from Ladakh to Jerusalem, Japan to Varanasi, meditating on the pursuit of paradise in a fractured world, suggesting that peace might be less a place than a perspective.
And then there is Cobalt Red by Siddharth Kara, an investigative reckoning with the human cost behind one of the world’s most coveted resources, amplifying voices too often lost in global conversations.
In the next piece, we’ll delve deeper into the stories from India that slip beneath the radar, unknown regions and their quiet realities that rarely crack front pages.
The real problem
So why do these books struggle for visibility here? Because the market isn’t built for them. Retail economics favour fast-moving titles; airport shops and online platforms push books that spark immediate buzz. Algorithms amplify trends, not nuance.
A literary novel that burns slowly or tells its story with subtlety just doesn’t sell quickly. Media coverage follows what’s already visible, creating a feedback loop that consigns many remarkable works to the margins. It’s not disinterest; it’s invisibility.
These books, and their narratives, carry weight. When the best stories about India are celebrated primarily abroad, we lose the chance to shape our own narratives. These works reflect who we are and what we endure, from mental health and personal loss to family ties and identity. They are not difficult reads. They’re just waiting to be found.