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When Palestinian author was uninvited from an award ceremony – for an award she had won – in November 2023, she became a name that many in the English-speaking world were not familiar with.

But after the German literary organisation LitProm cited the war in Palestine as the reason for withdrawing her invite, Adania and her novel Minor Detail gained widespread attention, particularly on social media, where TikTokers and Instagrammers began reading the book as a form of protest.

Interestingly, Minor Detail, which tells the story of a crime committed by an Israeli soldier against a Bedouin girl in 1949 and unfolds across two timelines, benefited from this surge in support, leading it to secure a spot in the top 50 bestselling books in translation in the UK between January and October this year.

That said, it is the only book translated from Arabic in the top 50 through October this year, based on available statistics. And Arabic, despite its rich literary culture (both past and present), was only the 18th bestselling language in translation for print books in the UK in 2022, according to data compiled by Nielsen on behalf of the Booker Prize Foundation (Japanese was at the top).

Why Arabic literature is underrepresented

Currently, there are around , and . 

Despite this vast linguistic reach, research published by shows that just under 600 works of Arabic literature were translated and published in the UK and Ireland between 2010 and 2019.

With thousands of books published in Arabic each year, this raises the question: why are so few translated into English?

The difficulty of translating from Arabic is a major reason, as are the opportunities and the market for Arabic-language literature.

, who translates from Arabic, German, and Russian into English, explains that there is a “huge disparity in market conditions and opportunities.” She points to the agenting landscape, which is “frustratingly limited for Arabic authors,” and English-language publishers’ ability (or inability) to assess the quality of a text when they are pitched books, as two major factors contributing to the lack of books translated from Arabic.

Furthermore, experts in the field say there is a lack of funding available for translations from Arabic to English, with fewer grants offered compared to translations from European languages.

Translator points out that, “while there are many talented Arabic translators, the translation process is time-consuming and funding is often scarce.”

“Publishers tend to prioritise works they believe will appeal to English-speaking audiences, favouring European titles over underrepresented works like Arabic literature,” she continues. “These factors significantly limit the number of Arabic books that make it into English translation.”

, publisher at And Other Stories, agrees that the financial barriers are big, but also says that prejudice plays a part in the lack of books translated from Arabic to English.

“Racism and Islamophobia are still very real obstacles, both in terms of placing Arabic-speaking people in editorial roles and in terms of obtaining engaged, non-partisan media coverage, though the former is slowly changing, and fiery independents are making space for themselves,” she explains.

“On a more subjective note, I think there’s still this sense amongst English readers that Arabic, like Hindi and Urdu, is a ‘flowery’ language more suited to the Middle Ages than Britain in the post-ironic period, which, of course, is not true. The poetic tradition is alive in Arabic (and Hindi, and Urdu) in ways that most of us English-speaking, semi-aspiring poets can only dream of,” she adds. 

Ruth, who is also managing director of World Kid Lit CIC, a UK-based organisation that aims to bring diverse, inclusive, global literature into the hands and onto the bookshelves of young people, says there’s also a “clear racist bias” when it comes to children’s fiction and funding translations.

“I worked with one publisher that was granted a very generous donation to publish a series of bilingual children’s books for Ukrainian refugees, but the funding dried up when the proposal was for a similar series for Arabic, Afghan or African languages,” she says.

Salma, who works between Arabic and English, says that another issue is how “English-language publishers frame Arabic literature.”

“Too often, there’s an exclusive focus on themes like war, political turmoil, or the oppression of Arab women,” she says. “This reinforces stereotypes, depicting Arab women as helpless victims rather than diverse, multifaceted individuals with agency and resilience. Arab men and children are similarly cast as either victims of conflict or perpetrators of violence, missing out on the full humanity and complexity of their experiences. While political conflict is part of Arabic literature, it does not define it.”

Real-life political conflict, however, does have an effect on book sales.

According to Nielsen data compiled for the Booker Prize, just over 10,000 print books translated from Arabic to English were sold in the UK in 2022.

Specifically, this represents an increase over the previous two years, which were affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, but is still significantly down from the more than 30,000 print books translated from Arabic that were sold in 2019.

In this context, this spike in interest can perhaps be attributed to the Great March of Return, during which demonstrations were held every Friday in the Gaza Strip, starting in March 2018 and continuing through December 2019.

Reader in Comparative Literature and English at King’s College London, has researched postcolonial and world literature in English, Spanish, Arabic, and Hebrew, as well as literature and political movements in the 20th and 21st centuries, with a particular focus on the .

She notes that there were spikes of interest in literature from the Arab-speaking world in 2001 and 2011. Both, of course, are linked to major international events: the 9/11 attacks on New York in 2001 and the Arab Spring in 2011.

Anna says she wouldn’t be surprised if people turn to books again when statistics from 2024 are released, due to the latest attack in Israel’s ongoing occupation of Palestine.

The future of Arabic literature in translation

While the increased consumption of literature is never a bad thing, the fact that Arabic literature becomes more attractive to English-language readers during times of conflict is a frustration for some.

“It is depressing, after a genocide has already begun, to see an increased awareness of the region,” says Anna. But her “idealistic or optimistic understanding” is that literature can have an impact, although it is a less immediate form of activism.

“Arabs should not only be of interest when they are at war, nor should Arab women only merit attention when portrayed as victims,” also says Salma, who believes there are many alternatives to the latter. “Arabic literature has a wealth of stories where women, for example, are agents of their own destinies.”

She cites books including the Arab epic , translated by Melanie Magidow, Deena Mohamed’s self-translated , Sonia Nimr’s , translated by Marcia Lynx Qualey, and Iman Mersal’s , translated by Robin Moger.

Publishers, says Ruth, “need to take risks” because there is an opportunity and appetite for books originally written in Arabic, and without more books being translated readers are missing out on a “breadth of perspective.”

Salma adds that “by not translating more Arabic literature, publishers miss out on challenging stereotypes, while readers miss the opportunity to explore a rich world of cultural diversity and compelling stories.” She would also like to see more Arab queer literature and Arabic science fiction receive attention.

“Spanning over 20 countries and a widespread diaspora, the Arab world’s literature reflects this diversity and invites readers to see life through many different lenses,” she says. “Translating these works opens up a world of voices, ideas, and stories that are too important to overlook.”

In light of all these issues, however, there is light. In 2024, a wealth of books translated from Arabic have been released, including by Huzama Habayeb, translated by Kay Heikkinen; The Book of Disappearance by Ibtisam Azem, translated by Sinan Antoon; and Lamia Ziadé’s graphic novel , translated by Emma Ramadan. In the future, these authors could all become well-known names, cited as often as their contemporaries from other languages.

“Readers should know the canon of Arabic writing the way they know the Greek or French canon – which is to say, not well for most of us, but at least a bit, at least enough to nod at al Mutanabbi, Naguib Mahfouz, or Mahmoud Darwish, the way we nod to hear Sophocles or Simon Armitage,” says Tara. 

Notable books in translation

With much more work to be done in translation, to showcase the richness and diversity of Arabic literature, here are some standout recommendations in the meantime worth exploring:

Salma's recommendations

by Al-Khansa, translated by James Montgomery.

“This elegant, timeless translation brings the seventh-century poet Al-Khansa’s dirges for her fallen brothers to life, intimately interwoven with Montgomery’s own moving reflections on grief. The result is a powerful dialogue that transcends time, making Al-Khansa’s heartrending poetry resonate with modern readers.”

by Shady Lewis, translated by Katharine Halls.

“A sharp, darkly humorous novel that follows an Egyptian immigrant in London as he navigates displacement, bureaucratic absurdity, and existential despair. This brilliant and nuanced story offers a deep exploration of the immigrant experience, shedding light on identity, belonging, and cultural intersections.”

Ruth’s recommendations

by Rabai al-Madhoun, translated by Elliott Colla.

“[This book] explores a writer’s journey back to Gaza to see his family after a 38-year exile.”

by Sonia Nimr, translated by Marcia Lynx Qualey.

“I do love historical fiction, and the marvellous Thunderbird trilogy is a magical fantasy that takes us through 1,500 years of Jerusalem’s history, following a Palestinian girl from the West Bank who is drawn into a time-travelling quest to save the world by collecting the tail feathers from four mythical thunderbirds as they burn up and expire.”

Sarah Shaffi is a freelance literary journalist and editor. She writes about books for Stylist Magazine online and is the books editor at Phoenix Magazine

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