Two-Step Devil (Grove) by the American writer Jamie Quatro came out this year and it’s wonderful. I also read Hurricane Season (2017, Fitzcarraldo Editions) by Fernanda Melchor, a Mexican writer. I don’t know if I should recommend the book because it’s so disturbing and brutal but also utterly brilliant. It blew me away. The Friend (2018, Virago) by Sigrid Nunez is a beautiful, experimental novel, fundamentally about a woman’s relationship with a dog that she inherits from a friend who has died. It is tender, searching and a bit oblique. There is also a lovely book that came out this year by British writer Miranda Pountney: How to Be Somebody Else (Jonathan Cape).
Samantha Harvey,
author and Booker Prize winner 2024The Story of a Brief Marriage (2016, Fourth Estate), by Sri Lankan author Anuk Arudpragasam is the most surprising and touching book I read in the last year. During the civil war in Sri Lanka, amidst unspeakable violence, Dinesh, a Tamil man, gets suddenly married to a girl — both homeless, both very young, both constantly and mainly trying to survive in this war-stricken environment. The marriage, quickly arranged for practical reasons in order to make both lives a little more bearable, leads to a new perspective: Dinesh discovers all of a sudden feelings of happiness. The idea of a future life with his bride generates a glimpse of hope, a short illusion. The end is heartbreaking. It made me remember how so many people this year had and still have to suffer from senseless war — the Russian war in Ukraine but also in the Middle East. Slow, sometimes painful reading, but all worth it.
Philipp Ackermann,
German ambassador to IndiaAt first glance, it would appear that there is little in common between Salman Rushdie’s searing account of his near-fatal attack in 2022, Knife (Penguin Random House), and Joel Dimsdale’s riveting historical account of the psychiatric profiles of four senior Nazis on trial in Nuremberg in 1945, The Anatomy of Malice (2016, Yale University Press). But, on closer reading, both books tell a story about the heart of darkness in each of us and the brazenness with which violence can be perpetrated when one is indoctrinated by the othering of the victim. Neither the lone wolf who stabbed Rushdie nor the Nazis who orchestrated a genocide with the tacit collaboration of a large proportion of Europeans were monsters. Both books serve as a timely reminder that, under the right combination of circumstances, notably the unquestioning loyalty to an authoritarian leader and a relentless propaganda of hate, anyone of us can be weaponised.
Vikram Patel,
Paul Farmer Professor of Global Health at Harvard Medical School
Two books — A Part Apart: The Life and Thought of BR Ambedkar (2023, Navayana) by Ashok Gopal and Gambling Man: The Wild Ride of Japan’s Masayoshi San (Penguin Random House) by Lionel Barber. The first will force reflection on Dr Ambedkar’s statement: “I am not a part of the whole. I am a part apart” and provides a deeper understanding of the legacy of this towering figure who is often iconised but rarely understood. The second will force reflections on elements of entrepreneurship like luck, motivation, and risk-taking.
Manish Sabharwal,
co-founder, Teamlease Services
Two books that stood out for me were Circles of Freedom: Friendship, Love and Loyalty in The Indian National Struggle (Juggernaut) by TCA Raghavan and So Says Jan Gopal (Speaking Tiger) by Purushottam Agrawal and David Lorenzen. The first is a micro-history of sorts, tracing the currents and inner workings of the freedom movement through the life, loves and personal journeys of some of its less-celebrated icons; men and women usually overshadowed by Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, etc. Like Raghavan’s previous work, it is a finely researched, charmingly written book. So Says Jan Gopal is a crisp work of scholarship on a 16th century Bhakti poet from Rajasthan, whose writings and poetry suggest rather modern impulses,especially in urging the idea of egalitarianism. It is a short, slender book, but one into which the writers pack much originality and learning.
Manu S Pillai,
writer
Of all my reading this year, here are some memorable ones that I would like everyone to read: Neerja Chowdhury’s How Prime Ministers Decide (Aleph Books) — a work of dedicated investigative political history; Why We Die: The New Science of Ageing and the Quest for Immortality (Hodder & Stoughton) by Venki Ramakrishnan brings together science, learning, philosophy and wisdom; Aditya Mukherjee’s Nehru’s India: Past, Present and Future (Penguin Random House), a rare piece of objective and empathetic history; Thumb Printed: Champaran Indigo Peasants Speak to Gandhi (National Archives of India and Navjivan Trust), edited by Tridip Suhrud and Megha Todi, and illuminating an insight into Mahatma Gandhi’s style of functioning and understanding of Indian people; Sattak, Poems in Marathi (Popular Prakashan) by Bhalchandra Nemade, an extraordinary flush of poetry from one of India’s preeminent novelist.
A Part Apart: The Life and Thought of BR Ambedkar (2023, Navayana) by Ashok Gopal
Ganesh Devy,
linguist and author
As India looks to expand her economic influence, it is fascinating to read of a period in which maritime and mercantilist traditions came together to give it a premier position in global trade. Not only did this expansion take the form of an enormous amount of trade in spices, silk, and other goods, but in Dalrymple’s narrative in The Golden Road (Bloomsbury), it was also accompanied by the spread of cultural influences. While all nations go through an ebb and tide in their global influence, I was left wondering about the forces that led to the eclipse of India’s influence on the global scene and the lessons we can learn from it.
Sonalde Desai,
economistI have two amazing history books with an Indian theme on-the-go at the moment — Scottish author William Dalrymple’s The Golden Road, which radically re-evaluates the importance of India in the pre-modern world, and Irish author Jane Ohlmeyer’s Making Empire: Ireland, Imperialism, and the Early Modern World (2023, OUP), a lyrically beautiful story of Ireland’s complex relationship with the Empire. The latter is special for me as a Derry Girl from Northern Ireland and now British High Commissioner to India. Irish Ambassador Kevin Kelly and I recently co-hosted both at a poignant event, moderated by Swapna Liddle. We reflected on the importance of talking with empathy about different perspectives on our complicated shared history.
Lindy Cameron,
British High Commissioner to India
Chandi Prasad Bhatt’s autobiography Gentle Resistance (2023, Permanent Black), translated into English by Samir Banerjee, has been the standout book for me this year. That he is an exceptional human being who has led a remarkable life, I already knew. But it is after a long time that the telling of a life story has moved me to the core. He comes across in the book as he does in real life — a tireless, unassuming, energetic reformer whose humanity shines through in all situations. What he endured as a child and adolescent; his attachment to various women, from his mother (he evokes this in such unusual ways) and his sister and later, the iconic Gaura Devi; his devotion to alleviating the suffering of people in remote places during landslides and floods; his knowledge of forests, based entirely on his intimacy with the Himalayas; the landscapes that he evokes, including his beloved bugyals — all this made the book memorable for me. What also struck me is that despite his disenchantment with the system in general and politicians in particular, he still remains “in hope”.
Nayanjot Lahiri,
historian
My first full year in India and the need for more knowledge and understanding about this vast country is never-ending. I therefore read mostly from or about India, both fiction and non-fiction. The following three come to my mind first: The International Booker Prize-winning Tomb of Sand (2022, Penguin Random House), by Geetanjali Shree, about grief, mother-daughter relations and Partition; Namita Gokhale’s latest novel, Never Never Land (Speaking Tiger), a beautiful tribute to the Himalayan region and mountains of India; The Golden Road by William Dalrymple, about India’s influence in ancient times, told in an engaging manner.
May-Elin Stener,
Norway’s ambassador to India
Economics is not one of my favourite areas for leisurely reading. The last time I enjoyed reading a book about economics was in the early 1990s when John Kenneth Galbraith’s The Culture of Contentment was published. A few months ago when I started reading Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism (2023, Bodley Head) by Yanis Varoufakis, I could hardly put it down. Varoufakis narrates the long history of market economy through conversations with his father. He brings us right up to Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg. For years I have been looking for an economist’s account of the new technological order. Varoufakis says that capitalism as we knew it so far — a market regime based on competition — has mutated into a feudal order in which citizens have agreed to be serfs of global profiteers. Social media has modified our behaviour beyond recognition. The new feudal regime is unnerving, but like a good teacher, Varoufakis, suggests a way out.
Krishna Kumar,
former director, NCERT, and author
Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making Of The Modern Hindu Identity (Penguin) is not only Manu S Pillai’s fifth book, it is also his most ambitious and audacious venture thus far. Breathtaking in its historical sweep and bristling with scholarship, it is an exhilarating voyage down 400 years of Indian history, with Manu serving as our sedulous, witty, and vastly erudite guide. This, in many ways, is an investigative journey through the crucible in which modern Hinduism — and its more muscular, ethno-nationalist manifestation, Hindutva — were forged. William Dalrymple’s The Golden Road, is a departure from his usual focus, since it takes him to an earlier period from about the 3rd century BC to the 12th-13th centuries CE. “What Greece was to Rome,” argues Dalrymple, “so at this period India was to South East and Central Asia and even to China.” He traces the huge impact of Indian ideas, culture, mathematics and science on the rest of the world. That this argument has been assumed, wrongly, to be the sole domain of the vishwa guru school of Hindutva history, makes it all the more compelling.
Shashi Tharoor,
MP, Thiruvananthapuram
There are two books that I read again and again and did so this year as well. Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End (2014, Penguin) describes how old-age care has gradually shifted from family to society. The shift, starting from longevity to breakdown of the family system, has affected old-age living differently in India and the US. This prompted me to talk to Sumitra Bhave about making a film on it, considering the wider reach of cinema and the relevance of the subject. It became the film Outhouse, released on December 20. The other book, Behind the Mask (2018, Majestic Prakashan) by Subhash Munje, describes how a relationship of trust, between doctor and patient, has changed to prosecutor and defendant because of corporations and technology. I have been wanting to do a one-man show on it for the same reason — that it can reach a wider audience.
Jane Ohlmeyer’s Making Empire: Ireland, Imperialism, and the Early Modern World
Mohan Agashe,
actor
Among the many books I read in 2024, I would like recommend two which are very engaging — The Social Brain: The Psychology Of Successful Groups (Penguin) by Tracy Camilleri, Samantha Rockey and Robin Dunbar and The Elements Of Marie Curie (Fourth Estate) by Dava Sobel. The Social Brain provides a broad bridge to connect evidence-based organisational principles from social and management sciences with key learnings from evolutionary biology and psychology. It guides us on how best to create structurally well-knit and functionally harmonious social groups, both at work and in communal life. The book educates us about the ideal numbers for different group interactions. We learn, for example, that congeniality and productive collaboration at work decline sharply when the group size exceeds 150. Hardwired into us from the way our hunter gatherer ancestors organised themselves, this number is true of modern industrial units. We also learn about optimal numbers for friendships, wider social networks and even different levels of group formation in a fighting-fit army. Most important, it tells us to desist from mechanically applying efficiency principles of personnel management but to couple them with learnings from behavioural sciences on group dynamics.
K Srinath Reddy,
cardiologist, and distinguished professor, Public Health Foundation of India
A book I refer to from time to time is Agnes Martin: Paintings, Writings, Remembrance (2012, Phaidon Press) by Arne Glimcher, about the life of the American minimalist artist. I have long admired and tried to understand Martin’s work. Her paintings are like meditations in subtle colour fields. She lived a solitary and frugal life till the age of 92. Glimcher is a gallerist who was friends with Martin for over 30 years, and had been working on this book for years taking notes while she was alive. The book is well-designed, with a gray hardbound cover with a 1960 painting by Martin. The endpapers have her calculations for her compositions and pages from her notebook. It’s a beautiful reflection on a long collaboration, the art of making paintings and a life that revolved around it.
Manisha Parekh,
painter
Asako Yuzuki’s Butter (Fourth Estate) kept me up till the wee hours. It is about food, trauma, misogyny and a woman serial murderer who remembers her victim’s last meal with chilling details. The murderer, Kajii, mocked by the men for being overweight, tells a woman reporter, Rika, that the two things that she can not tolerate are feminists and margarine, a contradiction and intersection in feminism that stares us in the face every day. Another is Intermezzo (Faber & Faber) by Sally Rooney. I didn’t think I would be so drawn into the story of two brothers grieving the loss of a parent. But her stupendous stamina for language, millenial quandaries, and messy entanglements make for a modern tragedy. There is such accurate mirroring in it that I sometimes need a break from feeling too much.
Atika Chohan,
screenwriter
The hysteresis and scarring from the pandemic has left the world thirsting for more growth. But even as we take growth for granted, it’s a brand new phenomenon in the grand arc of history. For 300,000 years, the human race suffered economic stagnation. Then, suddenly, for the last200 years, the planet witnessed sustained economic growth that revolutionised lives and livelihoods, pulling hundreds of millions out of poverty, dramatically improving health outcomes and transforming the way we live and work. But the “promise” of growth must be juxtaposed with its “perils.” The world’s current growth model is broken — irrevocably damaging the environment, stoking unsustainable inequality and threatening the dignity of work. We therefore sit, uncomfortably, on the horns of a “growth dilemma.” Can we chart a new growth path? How do we resolve this trade-off between efficiency and equity? Which trade-offs can we avoid? Which trade-offs must we accept? Daniel Susskind’s Growth: A Reckoning (Penguin) is a tour de force that provides a panoramic view to some of these most important questions. It is a must-read for anyone who appreciates the crossroads the world is currently at.
Sajjid Z Chinoy,
Head, Asia Economic Research, JP Morgan
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