The Book Boom That's Breaking Kashmir's Literary Backbone

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Representational photo

By Nawaz Shah

Self-publishing has taken Kashmir by storm. It has given everyone-from schoolkids to first-time diarists-a shortcut to becoming an author.

Platforms that once promised to liberate the voices stuck outside traditional publishing now serve as expressways for unpolished, unchecked, and often unreadable manuscripts.

With little editorial oversight, books are being pushed out in a hurry. The goal? Not storytelling. Not literature. Just a cover with your name on it.

In Srinagar's café circuits and college corridors, being a“published author” is no longer rare or revered. It's expected.

Read Also The Ansaris of Kashmir & the Making of a Tradition Kashmir's Softest Voice Cuts the Deepest

Teenagers are skipping the phase of reading widely and thinking deeply, and going straight to writing. At times, they're barely old enough to understand the books they've read, if they've read at all.

At a recent local book launch, a 13-year-old read aloud from her self-published poetry collection. The audience clapped, phones were out, and selfies followed. But no one seemed to notice the rhymes were broken, metaphors clumsy, and grammar inconsistent. This wasn't literature. It was aspiration printed and bound.

There's something deeply troubling about this speed-run to authorship. In a place like Kashmir, with its centuries-old literary tradition-one that gave us Lal Ded's mysticism, Mahjoor's pastoral Kashmiri verse, and the quiet elegance of Agha Shahid Ali-writing was always rooted in reverence. You read before you wrote. You waited. You rewrote.

But in today's rush, books are being printed without editing, mentorship, or criticism. Many writers don't even know what a second draft looks like. And self-publishing houses, smelling the business opportunity, rarely say no.

They'll design, print, and list your book on Amazon, for a price. The results vary. Some books are readable. A few are good. But most don't pass the first paragraph test.

Traditional publishers in the region aren't entirely innocent either. The bar has been lowered across the board. Caught between market pressure and the need to stay relevant, even established names are fast-tracking manuscripts that would've been sent back for rework just a decade ago.

To be clear, this isn't an attack on self-publishing as a format. It has its place. Many important voices, especially marginalised ones, have found expression through it. And yes, among the flood are real talents.

But when being published becomes a form of social currency rather than creative expression, we have a problem.

Some big Kashmiri writers, or even contemporary poets, didn't emerge overnight. Their work rests on years of reflection and discipline. That's what writing demands. Not a printer's bill and an ISBN.

If Kashmir's young writers truly care about literature, they need to slow down. Read more. Rewrite harder. Embrace the lonely, invisible work that precedes a book. Otherwise, they risk becoming a generation of authors without readers, and literature without legacy.

• The author is a Literature scholar based in Anantnag.

MENAFN10052025000215011059ID1109532453