I rarely show off my readings partly because I know how few people are interested in the topics I am interested in and partly because I have never thought it should be publicized. It’s my very personal matter what I read about, noone has anything to do with it. Who cares anyway? Then a few days ago I read the outcry of a black literary agent about the lack of diversity in the UK publishing scene. Read the article here.

This writing encouraged me to share my reading list of 2021. 13 out of the 24 books are from Asian, African and Caribbean writers, most of them I know have never been heard of in my privileged white world. The situation in many parts of the world is even worse than it is in the UK, in the sense that solely white writers are promoted and known by the masses. I have the terrible habit of checking bookshelves when I enter someone’s flat and I am overjoyed when I spot a book from any non-European or non-white writer. It hardly ever happens.

I was born into a homogeneous society in an era when access to information was limited, and sticking out came with retaliation. I was at school, learning the very basics, and the teacher asked me to read something out loud from a Hungarian novel. There was a name in it, Richard. In Hungarian we pronounce ’ch’ as you say ’h’ in Hello but my 8 years old self pronounced it as you say ’ch’ in chocolate. That is, I used the English IPA the existence of which I could have had no idea about in those days. I don’t know how this could happen, watching TV was not an everyday activity for us then, but western movies hasn’t reached us in the early ’80s anyway and I had zero access to outside influences. In any case, the teacher was shocked and made sure to make fun of me as well as to let my mom know about my horrendous act.

I struggled in the education system up until I went to university, when I could make my own choices about what I would learn about. There were no more limits and expectations, the borders my mind was confined within got erased. I went straight for African studies, for which I was constantly mocked by my peers. Surprisingly or not, doing Inner Asian studies as well never resulted in such reaction.

It wasn’t always easy but these people only showed me how important it is to spread information. Looking at history we will unlikely to reach an ideal state of existence when diversity is a given and valued but we have to at least aspire for it. Please Google the writers I mention in my reading list and give them a chance. They will lead you to the unknown from where you may return with a new piece of yourself.

Difference is exciting. Sameness in difference is intoxicating.