Mehvash Amin

Editor-in-chief, The Aleph Review

Books bought and shelved are like old school friends. Perhaps you forget them, but whenever you connect, you get that immediate frisson of familiarity and camaraderie. I came across a beautiful collection of short stories – a translation of Spanish author Juan Benet’s You’ll Never Get Anywhere.

Benet, who died in 1993, has been likened to writers like William Faulkner, Marcel Proust and James Joyce. This book, Nunca llegaras a nada, was published in 1961, only 16 years after World War II. Spain was under the Francoist regime, with arrests and deaths of hundreds of people, supporters of the previous Second Republic. Subliminally, perhaps, the book was an ideal choice, an echo of what is happening closer to home.

What I loved about Benet’s writing is how the most common object unchains a collective memory – “the smell of red bedspreads” in a hotel room, “the yellowing doilies on the piano”, etc. Even if unfamiliar, there is an evocation here that you can slip into as comfortably as into a pair of old socks. And even when the story is nothing more than a large reminiscence of a journey to various European cities, Benet’s Proustian device of connecting the reader to things transcends the time he is writing about. The rest, of course, can be a nostalgic journey to the past, to the way its cafés looked and its women dressed, to a time where people, instead of scrolling down a phone, just stared out of windows on which a century of cleaning had left misty whorls.

I also dipped in and out of books of poetry – like More Poetry Please: 100 Popular Poems from the BBC Radio 4 Programme. It is nice to know that an institution like the BBC, that I have stopped watching because of its selective reporting on a genocide, at least put together poetry from, say, American soldier Alan Seeger, who died during World War I.

I have a rendez-vous with Death

At some disputed barricade

And

But I have a rendez-vous with Death

At midnight in a flaming town…

Seegar could be describing present-day Palestine.

Mahmood Awan

Dublin-based Punjabi poet

There are a number of books I read this year that enriched my understanding of the world and its people. I will highlight just two of them for a brief review, but several others deserve mention: Tania Branigan’s Red Memory: Living, Remembering and Forgetting China's Cultural Revolution, Hassan Abbas’s The Prophet's Heir: The Life of Ali Ibn Abi Talib, Zubair Ahmad’s Alif Allah Ratta Dil Maira, Saeed Ahmad’s Ikkeesvain Chaand Ki Raat, Li-Young Lee’s The Undressing and Ocean Vuong’s Night Sky with Exit Wounds.

Dr Naveed Shahzad’s Urdu Hindi Tanaa’zia and Punjabi Zubaan (Urdu-Hindi Conflict and the Punjabi Language) is a book I revisited this year. Dr Shahzad, head of the Punjabi Department at Punjab University, is a prolific researcher and an engaging poet.

The book delves into the pre-Partition politics of language, when Urdu and Hindi were linked to specific religions. A unique case of this conflict was in the Punjab, where the Urdu vs Hindi debate evolved into an Urdu vs Punjabi conflict starting in 1909 – a tension that persists to this day.

Dr Shahzad has drawn on historical archives, including anti-Punjabi propaganda published in the Paisa Akhbaar (Penny Newspaper), Lahore, edited by Munshi Mahboob Alam of Wazirabad (1863–1933). The book highlights the editor's criticism of Punjab University Vice-Chancellor Sir PC Chatterjee (1848–1917) after he advocated for Punjabi-language education in the Punjab during his keynote speech at the university’s 29th convocation on December 22, 1908. Dr Shahzad has also reproduced the full text of Chatterjee’s speech in the book.

This is a must-read for anyone interested in the historical politics of linguistics.

The second book I’d like to highlight is Kalyam Kooch-i-Ishq, co-written by Syed Ahmad Iqbal Tirmazi and Iftikhar Ahmad Hafiz Qadri. This book explores the life of the Sufi adept Hazrat Mian Fazluddin Kalyami Chishti Sabri (1808–1892), whose shrine is located in Mandra, Gujar Khan. It was published to mark his 133rd death anniversary.

Iftikhar Qadri, a traveller and author, collaborated with Ahmad Iqbal Tirmazi, a poet who has embraced the journey of self-discovery through sufism. Last year, Tirmazi published and distributed for free the historic text Dala'il al-Khayraat, which compiles prayers of peace and blessings upon the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him).

According to Peer Mehr Ali Shah’s biographer in Mehr-i-Munir, funeral prayers for Mian Kalyami were led by Peer Mehr Ali Shah. As per his will, a sarangi was played during the funeral and women sang wedding songs instead of laments – a testament to the unique spirit of the Sufis of our region.

These legacies and shrines, in my view, are not the sole property of individuals or families but represent the collective heritage of common people. In a world filled with distractions and discontent, there is a pressing need for the green refuge of mysticism and inner peace. This book beautifully rekindles that golden trail.

Arif Azad

Public health and public policy advisor. Author of Thinkers, Dreamers and Doers

This year, I managed to read more books than the previous year. Along with the increased volume, the range of topics was eclectic. I began with memoirs, starting with the much-acclaimed Free by Lea Ypi – by far the best book I read this year. Ypi, an Albanian-born professor of political theory at the LSE, deftly intertwines the fall of communism in Albania with the rise of neo-liberal free-market democracy through her family’s history and the people she knew. Beautifully written, the memoir reads like a novel, with ideas conveyed through vividly drawn characters.

Vladimir Nabokov’s autobiography Speak, Memory, which reflects on his early years in Russia, offered pure literary delight. Adam Shatz’s masterful new biography of Frantz Fanon, titled The Rebel’s Clinic, re-evaluates Fanon’s legacy 60 years after his death. Following this, I revisited Fanon’s two major works: Black Skin, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth, foundational texts for understanding colonialism, racism, decolonisation and the post-colonial state.

Two unexpected recommendations from a bibliophile friend stood out: Frank Tallis’s Mortal Secrets on psychoanalysis and Freud and Sarah Bakewell’s At the Existentialist Café on the existentialist movement. Both books enriched my understanding of Fanon, who fused existentialism and psychoanalysis in his work. While on the topic of political philosophy, I cannot omit Hannah Arendt’s seminal work The Origins of Totalitarianism, which provides rich historical and political insights into Nazism, racism, fascism, bureaucracy, anti-Semitism and totalitarianism.

In the realm of history, Fintan O’Toole’s We Don’t Know Ourselves: A Personal History of Ireland offered a compelling account of recent Irish history, blending intimate reflections with astute reporting on key events from the year of his birth onwards.

In terms of fiction, I persevered through JM Coetzee’s new collection of short stories, The Pole. Most of the stories focus on ageing and characters advancing into their later years. I also worked my way through some of his earlier novels, including Dusklands, The Age of Iron and The Death of Jesus. In the last, Coetzee evokes a dystopian world centred on an orphanage and the unforeseen trials and tribulations of adoption.

Lastly, I was thrilled to finally find a copy of the late Mike Marqusee’s out-of-print book on Bob Dylan, Wicked Messenger, from a local bookseller. Marqusee was a polymath and an engaging commentator on the black civil rights movement, literature, music and politics. His book has helped me organise my previously inchoate ideas about Dylan’s music and its profound contribution to the politics of 1960s America. Marqusee remains one of the enduring influences on my reading choices overall.

Safinah Danish Elahi

Publisher, writer Eye on the Prize and Idle Stance of the Tippler Pigeon

This year flew by, and I only managed to read 14 books, excluding manuscript submissions. Among those, these five stood out for me:

1. My Friends by Hisham Matar

2. I’ve always had friends who admire Matar’s work, and this novel, shortlisted for the Booker Prize, is not to be missed. It tells the story of a friendship between two men, a country lost to civil war and the dues paid by those who left without saying goodbye. Matar weaves a poignant tale of longing to return to one’s homeland and how a single event can alter the trajectory of a life. With intricately crafted sentences, I often found myself re-reading passages to fully grasp their depth.

3. Brotherless Night by VV Ganeshanathan

4. Ganeshanathan spent a decade writing this novel, and if this isn’t a masterpiece, I don’t know what is. It follows the story of a girl aspiring to become a doctor in war-torn Sri Lanka. Caught in the midst of civil war, her quest to stay on the right side of history leads her to make questionable decisions as she watches the man she loves sacrifice everything. The harsh realities she faces make protecting her family and dreams an almost impossible endeavour.

5. Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

6. Published in 2018 and adapted for the screen in 2022, this novel is often described as a murder mystery. To me, it felt more like a romance, with strong coming-of-age elements. Owens describes the marshlands with exquisite detail, portraying the marsh girl as someone whose extraordinary circumstances shape her into a truly unique character.

7. Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano

8. Morally complex and thoroughly engaging, Napolitano excels at evoking mixed feelings about her characters. The novel addresses genetic mental health issues and explores the difficult choices characters make for love. While some readers might find parts of the plot frustrating, the story remains compelling and thought-provoking.

9. Luster by Raven Leilani

10. Bold and experimental, Luster is a contemporary masterpiece. At times, it may feel overwhelming, but I enjoyed delving into the protagonist’s complicated mind and impulsive behaviour. Leilani doesn’t shy away from portraying difficult and uncomfortable situations, offering a uniquely raw insight into her protagonist’s thoughts.

Taha Kehar

Writer, No Funeral for Nazia

In 2024, I found myself captivated by the spirit and spectacular opulence of the creative memoir – a genre that allows writers to explore public as well as private veins of truth. In I Remain in Darkness, Nobel Prize-winning memoirist Annie Ernaux captures the intricacies of anticipatory grief. This slim text offers a heartbreakingly candid account of her mother's long, painful battle with Alzheimer's disease. While Ernaux's account is intensely personal, Bhaskar Roy’s Fifty Year Road deals with public realities by combining the rigor of an autobiography with a fact-driven, insightful account of India's glorious past. Fifty Year Road also stands out for its evocation of the literary and artistic footprint of the Naxalite movement.

Grief was a recurring motif in some of the novels I read this year. In Sally Rooney's Intermezzo, two brothers grapple with the demise of a parent and seek consolation in romantic liaisons. Through Banana Yoshimoto's The Premonition, grief emerges as a subtle yet potent force, steering characters towards painful epiphanies and unwanted separations. Anita Desai's Rosarita uses the crippling loss of a parent as a doorway into memories we don't have the right to access.

During the latter half of the year, I made a conscious effort to broaden the scope of my reading and deviate from narratives about grief. The nine stories in Jhumpa Lahiri's much-awaited collection Roman Stories are welcome proof of her prowess as a writer of short fiction. Lahiri’s new collection of stories, originally penned in Italian and later rendered in English, is an abiding testament to her ability to make a foreign language her own by carving out fictional realms in it.

Han Kang's The Vegetarian reveals how our dietary habits can find themselves at the heart of a meaningful conversation about spiritual and emotional freedom. In mid-December, I immersed myself in rereading The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in the hope of writing a contemporary adaptation of Muriel Spark's scintillating novel. It remains to be seen if I'll even embark on this project, but returning to this intriguing text proved to be a rewarding experience.

Saba Karim Khan

Writer, Skyfall

This year was a mixed bag of fiction, non-fiction, and children’s books. Sally Rooney’s Normal People was fast-paced and compelling. I can’t wait to dive into her other works, especially Conversations with Friends and Intermezzo.

Another standout was Snuffing Out the Moon by Dr Osama Siddique – an ambitious, intense and thought-provoking read that balances prose while experimenting with dimensions of time and space. I had the privilege of unpacking his writing during a talk at the Pakistan Embassy, which was both profound and moving.

Elif Shafak’s There Are Rivers in the Sky left a lasting impression with its magical realism woven against a multi-perspective, poignant and poetic backdrop. More recently, I picked up Omar Shahid Hamid’s The Election, which features inspiring and elegiac prose. I’m certainly a fan of his work.

In non-fiction, Give and Take by Adam Grant was recommended to me by my brother. As Susan Cain puts it, “As brilliant as it is wise, this is not just a book—it’s a new and shining worldview.” I also enjoyed AM Gautam’s Indian Millennials: Who Are They, Really?, which offered astute insights into the lives of young people growing up across the border and made me reflect on parallels with Pakistan.

Another memorable read was Cricket in Pakistan: Nation, Identity and Politics by Dr Ali Khan, which provided rich insights into how cricket reveals much about Pakistan’s culture, corruption, politics and religion. After reading it, I’m even more excited about an upcoming talk with Dr Khan about the book in January.

I’ve also started Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity, recommended by Christian Stüer. This eye-opening book on extending life spans and preventing chronic disease is one I hope to finish next year.

Children’s literature was a big part of my reading this year, as I enjoyed books with my daughters, especially the Little People, Big Dreams series and revisiting classics by Roald Dahl.

Finally, a significant portion of 2024 was dedicated to reading submissions for an anthology I’ve curated and edited, titled Home #ItsComplicated. This collection explores individuals’ edgy and soulful relationships with Pakistan. It’s set to release in 2025, and I cannot wait.

Shueyb Gandapur

Finance professional and avid traveller

As Trinidad and Tobago was on my itinerary this year, I decided to delve into the works of its most celebrated writer, VS Naipaul. It was my second encounter with Naipaul’s writing, having read his novel The Enigma of Arrival many years ago. This time, I picked up Half a Life and was struck by his distinctive flowing style, where descriptions stretch endlessly in flawless language. However, as with his other works, the story occasionally felt directionless.

I followed this with A House for Mr Biswas, the captivating saga of an Indian family transplanted from northern India to a Caribbean island as bonded labourers. Some branches of the family break free from indentureship and rise to become wealthy business owners. Central to the novel is the Lion House, a unique century-old building adorned with classical Indian architectural motifs. During my visit, seeing the Lion House in its current decrepit state in the provincial town of Chaguanas, Trinidad, vividly framed my mental image of the house described in detail in the novel. A House for Mr Biswas seems a perfect candidate for a film adaptation. Interestingly, while listening to a YouTube talk by Tariq Ali earlier this year, I learned that he has already written the screenplay for the novel, waiting for an ambitious filmmaker to bring it to life.

Naipaul truly resonated with me in the last book I read: Miguel Street. Sometimes regarded as a novel and at other times a collection of interconnected stories, it’s an extraordinarily compelling narration of the lives of people on the eponymous street, seen through the eyes of a boy. The characters—a mix of street bums, tradesmen, housewives, academic prodigies and prostitutes—navigate the harsh realities of life on Miguel Street, enduring failures but never relinquishing the fantasy of their dreams.

Naipaul’s sensitive portrayal of each character lends a heartwarming quality to the stories. One of the most moving accounts is that of a poet who claims to be writing the greatest poem in the world but hasn’t progressed beyond the first line. Avuncular men entertain children and small incidents fuel weeks of gossip, creating a vivid tapestry of everyday life.

Miguel Street is a remarkable example of how simple, everyday observations—drawn from memory—can be transformed into brilliant writing.

Omar Shahid Hamid

Writer, Betrayal, Fix, The Election

2024 was a significant year for me in terms of reading. I increasingly turned to audio books, which boosted my reading productivity. Among the best books I read this year was The Devil’s Best Trick by Randall Sullivan. Sullivan delves into the history of the Devil and the concept of evil across various cultures and religions. The book genuinely sent shivers down my spine at times. The most fitting description comes from Sullivan himself: “When I started this book, I wasn’t sure about whether or not the devil ever existed. By the time I finished, I was a true believer.”

Another fascinating title was John Nagl’s Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife. Aside from having one of the best titles of the year, Nagl’s academic study compares the counter-insurgency techniques employed by the British in Malaya in the 1950s with those used by the Americans in Vietnam. It’s a must-read for anyone interested in understanding the dynamics of asymmetrical warfare.

I also thoroughly enjoyed Society Girl by Tooba Masood and Saba Imtiaz. As a huge fan of their podcast on the infamous death of Mustafa Zaidi – a scandal that rocked Karachi in 1970 – I couldn’t wait for the book to come out, and it didn’t disappoint. It’s essential reading for anyone interested in Karachi’s history during the swinging ’60s and ’70s.

Lastly, at the risk of sounding like a shameless self-publicist, I must say I found my own book, The Election, quite enjoyable in its final format.

Maniza Naqvi

Publisher, writer, Stay with Me, The Inn

This year, I focused on books by authors I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to on The Little Book Company Podcast. Here are some of the highlights: Damon Galgut’s The Good Doctor, Raza Mir’s Murder at the Mushaira, Amitava Kumar’s A Foreigner Carrying in the Crook of His Arm a Tiny Bomb, Feryal Ali-Gauhar’s An Abundance of Wild Roses, Shehan Karunatilaka’s The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, Siddhartha Deb’s The Light at the End of the World, Osama Siddique’s Ghuroob-i-Shehr Ka Waqt, Shazaf Fatima Haider’s How It Happened, Bina Shah’s The Fruits of Our Un-labour, Omar Shahid Hamid’s The Party Worker and Safinah Danish Elahi’s The Idle Stance of the Tippler Pigeon.

I’m also looking forward to new novels from Haider, Hamid, Shah and Umber Khairi, including Haider’s A Woman on a Suitcase, Hamid’s The Election, Shah’s The Monsoon War and Khairi’s Akbar in Wonderland.

This year, I also read the new translation of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov by Michael R Katz and Bolesaw Prus’s The Doll. I’ve been keeping close to me the poetry of Mosab Abu Toha—Things You May Find in My Ear and Forest of Noise—as well as Refaat Alareer’s If I Must Die: Poetry and Prose.

A significant portion of my year was spent working with my father on his book, Apostles of Change. We also delved into the poetry of Mirza Ghalib and Iqbal, unpacking and understanding their profound work together.

Nasir Abbas Nayyar

Critic, Naiy Naqqad Kay Naam Khatoot

I read dozens of books in 2024, but only a handful became part of my memory. Even fewer shaped my perception of human existence and the world. The first book that effortlessly comes to mind is William Dalrymple’s The Golden Road: How Ancient India Transformed the World. It reconstructs the idea of the "Indosphere," a period in Indian history from 250 BCE to 1200 CE, when “India was a confident exporter of its civilisation.”

The next standout book was Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus, which made me deeply apprehend the dangers and challenges artificial intelligence poses to human creativity and civilization. The idea that AI can make decisions and even conspire to rewrite genetic code is profoundly unsettling.

A few years ago, I discovered Azar Nafisi, an Iranian-American author. Last year, I read her Read Dangerously, which explores and celebrates the subversive power of literature. This year, I was captivated by her earlier work, Reading Lolita in Tehran. In it, Nafisi recounts her experience of reading fiction with her former students, attempting to “find a link between the open spaces the novel provided and the closed ones we were confined to.” It’s a must-read for teachers and students of literature everywhere.

Reading Raftgan ka Suragh (Footprints of the Bygones) by Sarwar-ul Huda was an unforgettable experience. This book explores the lives, personalities and works of Urdu and Hindi writers. Huda’s vast knowledge of South Asian literature, his analytical prowess and the marvellous flow of his prose make this book a true treasure.

Jeem Abbasi’s Urdu novel Sindhu, though slim, is a remarkable story of a matriarchal society, with all its strengths and weaknesses, drawn from the archaeological accounts of the ancient Indus civilisation. Akhtar Raza Sleemi’s third novel Liwakh (Char), written using a flashback technique, is a powerful narrative of the resistance by the people of Hazara – first against the Sikhs and then the British.

Mustansar Hussain Tarar’s Batan Mulatqatan (Conversations and Meetings) offers captivating personal accounts of great writers and artists such as Mano, Abdullah Hussain, Intezar Hussain, Sadequain and others.

In Urdu poetry, Abid Raza’s Rozan-i-Siah (The Dark Aperture) and Aurang Zeb Niazi’s Jang aur Udasi ki Nazmen (Poems of War and Melancholy) hold a magical ability to stir the reader’s imagination, offering a profound way of seeing both the inner and outer worlds.

Moazzam Sheikh

Writer, Cafe Le Whore and Other Stories

My reading life in 2024 was dominated by fiction. As the genocide in Gaza deeply affected my emotional state, most of the non-fiction I consumed, and I read a lot, was primarily online.

Three novels by writers of South Asian descent stood out: Bengal Hound by Rahad Abir, Ranbir Sidhu’s Dark Star and Chetna Maroo’s Western Lane. Anu Kumar’s The Kidnapping of Mark Twain was also an enjoyable read, as was Elizabeth McKenzie’s The Dog of the North.

One of the most under-appreciated South Asian American writers, Syed Afzal Haider, impressed me with The Dying Sun and Other Stories, one of the most original and stylistically striking collections I’ve read in years. Brazil’s Hilda Hilst’s Fluxo-Floema was baffling, challenging and intoxicating. Mathias Enard’s Compass provided a dense, complex treatment of history that inspired me to revisit Nain Sukh’s equally intricate Punjabi novel Madho Laal Husain, which I am still reading. Mudassar Bashir’s Punjabi short story collection Chatti Chobara was notable for its emotional depth.

Two Urdu novels are also worth mentioning: Rolaak by Rafaqat Hayat and Nikka by Anis Ahmed. Abbas Rahman’s highly convoluted Khuda Kay Saaye Mein Ankh Micholi failed to impress me.

Palestinian writers left a profound impact, particularly Ghasan Kanafani’s All That’s Left to You; Adania Shibli’s We Are All Equally Far From Love; and Maki Kashimada’s Love at Six Thousand Degrees, all haunting works in terms of both style and content.

On literary merit alone, Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard and About Ed by Robert Glück were the most satisfying reads. Namrata Poddar’s crackling prose in her debut Border Less was impressive. Hindi novelist Usha Priyamvada’s Rukogi Nahin Radhika? captivated me with its slow, meditative, introspective quality.

Finally, Vigdis Hjorth’s Long Live the Post Horn! demonstrated how an insightful writer can craft a political novel by deeply studying a real political issue, weaving imagination into it respectfully.

I also read a book of philosophy this year: The Agony of Eros by German-Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han. It was a profoundly rewarding experience.