This week, our editors-at-large interview an Indian translator to better understand the local impact of international prizes, report on the opening of an Umberto Eco-inspired bookstore in Bulgaria, and celebrate a major 20th-century writer in Mexico. Read on to find out more!
Sayani Sarkar, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Kolkata
The literary community in India has been celebrating this week because Heart Lamp, written by Banu Mushtaq and translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi, has won the 2025 International Booker Prize. This marks the second time that a book translated from an Indian language has received this prestigious award. The first was Tomb of Sand by Geetanjali Shree, translated by Daisy Rockwell, which won in 2022. Anton Hur, one of the judges this year, described Heart Lamp as “daring, textured, and vital.” I wanted to find out how the book has been received in the translation community in India, so I briefly spoke with Sayari Debnath, a culture journalist at Scroll and a translator from Bengali and Hindi to English.
I asked her how the translation of Heart Lamp stands out to her compared to other recently translated books in various Asian languages. Sayari mentioned that she was quite surprised by the translation when she first read the book. “There are plenty of phrases that were translated literally and Deepa Bhasthi chose to retain some of the Kannada words too,” she said. “It took some time to get used to but as I read on, I realised what it was doing to my own tongue – there was a “chataak” in the language, or what one could also call spice/sourness/pungency. My mouth was imbued with a flavour I couldn’t really place. I thought that was quite an interesting feeling. However, I did tell Deepa that at first, I wasn’t sure about what she was trying to do. She told me she ‘translated with an accent’ — that’s new, I think.”
Lastly, I wanted to know her thoughts on what this second International Booker win means for the future of young and emerging translators in India. Sayari told me that translators in India finally “have a heft of their own, they are more visible — we know what they look like” which reflects the evolving reception optics of translation seen in recent years. “There are publishers dedicated to translations,” she added, pointing out “Seagull Books, major players like HarperCollins and Westland have translation imprints, Penguin Random House has a robust translation list, Speaking Tiger Books has brought a healthy number of translations from under-represented languages of the North East. Agents are very happy to represent translators and writers from regional languages.” She also provided me with an analysis of the current state of translations from Indian languages and how they are perceived outside of India. Although she believes that the Indian publishing industry is more open to translations than in many other places, she highlighted some critical issues that create challenges in terms of proper acknowledgment. “The biggest hurdle for Indian books to win foreign prizes is that there’s often a clause that the book needs to have been published in the UK or the US. Perhaps it is plain old discrimination or undermining Indian literature, whatever it is, Indian books struggle to cross this hurdle. And I don’t see publishers abroad too keen to meet us halfway. I think that’s the issue. Not the quality or quantity, but simply the acknowledgement that what is being written in India is of value to every reader in the world.” The Booker platform has certainly opened up a space for conversation about inclusivity and porousness in the translation world with Heart Lamp‘s win.
Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Bulgaria
On the size of libraries, Umberto Eco always took the side of the hoarders. Himself the owner of more than 50,000 books, he teased his relatively minimalist-minded opponents, saying “it is foolish to think that you have to read all the books you buy, as it is foolish to criticize those who buy more books than they will ever be able to read.”
I guess, as far as inspiration goes, this alone would have been enough to motivate Daniel Valchev, Bulgaria’s former Minister of Education and Science, and his wife Milena to open a new independent bookstore in Sofia whose name is a play on words with the Italian author’s name: Umberto & Co. The place even boasts a first-in-the-world statue of the prominent writer and scholar. He is portrayed sitting at a desk with an open book and a platypus (after the brilliant collection Kant and the Platypus).
In a recent interview for the local web portal Kultura, Svetlozar Zhelev, Director of the National Book Center, joined the Valchev family and commented on the bookstore’s opening in the context of the country’s current literary situation. He explained that Sofia is lacking in multifunctional bookish spaces that offer visitors the opportunity to connect meaningfully over what they’re reading, be that old favorites or new titles. Zhelev also expressed an interesting opinion regarding the competition between various bookstores: “Every bookstore builds its own image and establishes its own communication with readers. If you ask the book lovers in any city, they will immediately point you to a few specific cult bookstores. […] But even in the large bookstore chains, the individual booksellers manage to leave their mark.”
Personally, I can’t wait to visit this gem and explore the recommendations curated by a team that is not afraid to dream big.
René Esaú Sánchez, Editor-at-Large, reporting on Mexico
May 25 marked the centenary of the birth of Rosario Castellanos, a central figure in 20th-century Mexican literature (and a personal favourite, if I may say so). A poet, novelist, essayist, and diplomat, her work combines an unusual aesthetic force with a critical vision that questions structures of power at the intersection of gender, class, and culture.
Castellanos was one of the first Mexican writers to turn her own experience into a form of political inquiry. In novels like Balún Canán and Oficio de tinieblas, she addressed structural racism and the oppression of Indigenous peoples in Chiapas. In essays such as Mujer que sabe latín…, she gave voice to a critique of the marginalisation of women in intellectual and public life. Her importance lies not only in the issues she tackled but in the way she wrote, without dogma or moralising.
To celebrate her centenary, the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) published La rueda del hambriento, a selection of her short stories, and distributed 110,000 copies to students across the institution. Furthermore, the recent publication of Cartas a Ricardo, featured in Asymptote’s latest issue, was accompanied by an epistolary project, Cartas a Rosario, in which students wrote letters to Castellanos as a way of thanking her for her influence and reflecting on her legacy.
Writers Elena Poniatowska (a personal friend of “Chayito,” as Castellanos was known), Sara Uribe, and other authors and academics gathered at the Palacio de Bellas Artes to discuss Castellanos, her singular voice, and her enduring presence. Meanwhile, her son, Gabriel Guerra Castellanos, collaborated with the Colegio de San Ildefonso to curate an exhibition of her personal belongings, from photographs to notebooks, which reveal intimate aspects of her life and thought.
Reading Castellanos today is to recognise a writer who carved her own path in a field long dominated by men, and who saw writing as both resistance and revelation. Her voice reflective, unflinching, and profoundly human, remains as urgent and illuminating as ever. A century after her birth, Castellanos continues to speak with a clarity that bridges generations, reminding us that literature can still challenge, comfort, and transform.
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