For speculative fiction to become a truly inclusive and egalitarian space, every axis of exclusion must be interrogated, and every potential drawbridge turned into a gateway.
Writers Tashan Mehta (The Liar's Weave) and Prayaag Akbar (Leila) and writer-editor Salik Shah (The Mithila Review) got together with Articles Editor Gautam Bhatia to have a conversation about the present and the futures of English-language Indian speculative fiction writing.
Gautam Bhatia: Five years ago, Strange Horizons ran a discussion about Indian speculative fiction with writers and editors, hosted by Anil Menon (Part I and Part II), called "Splitting the Difference." They talked about problems of nomenclature (what is Indian SF), theme (what is, and what should, Indian SF be about), and authorship (which writers—past and present—make up the field). You are all writers and editors, living and working in India and writing in English, who have emerged after that conversation—at the risk of sounding dramatic, the next generation.
Five pairs of simple gemstone stud earrings—one garnet, another jade, yet another sapphire, and so on—which each seem to match perfectly in cut and clarity, but upon the closest inspection reveal themselves to be barely similar at all.
This year, you needed funny, brokenhearted, expansive fiction to help you laugh and stay guardedly optimistic: and lucid, flat-out furious fiction to confirm that yes, indeed, it really is that bad out there.
Stylistically and even substantively very different, pessimistic visions of near-future India are nonetheless united by an attempt to explore the impact of disruptive technological and social changes upon a vast and riven community.
. . . there is no excess fat here. You open a page, Hernandez’s characters pull you in immediately with their self-assured and friendly voices. And then, before you know it, the stories are over, leaving you both quite satisfied, and desiring more.