/ Into the world of speculative fiction: An Interview with ‘Small World City’

This past August, Dhaka’s speculative fiction magazine Small World City enjoyed their first anniversary. The magazine, over this last year, has published some of the more striking works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry coming out of the country. Their latest issue, which was delayed in solidarity with July’s quota reform protests, was released August 31, 2024, featuring celebrated writers as well as new ones.
Earlier this year, I sat with the founders of Small World City—editor Mehrul Bari, deputy editor Shehrin Hossain, and comms director Farhia Tabassum—to get a peek behind the curtains of Bangladesh’s first English-language magazine of genre literature. Belonging to our country’s burgeoning writing scene myself, I was eager to observe the magazine’s approach and what plans they hold for the future.
1. What sparked the idea for SWC in the first place?
Mehrul: I’ve been wanting to create a literary magazine for some time now. In the last decade or so, we had Six Seasons Review, Monsoon Letters, Arts & Letters, Lit Fest, among others. The problem was, when one of these platforms took a hiatus—and almost all did around COVID—it just left a huge gap. Without platforms like these around, it doesn’t feel like we have a lot of writers writing in English, even though we do.
It’s fitting that this interview is for The Daily Star because Sarah Bari, and her work in founding Daily Star Books was what really strongly motivated me. And when she took me onboard, that’s when I saw firsthand how many writers—and how many enthusiastic writers—we have. Just a community of writers ready to be published, waiting to be published.
As much as I wanted to make a literary magazine of my own, there would be no point if no one reads or writes. Now, clearly it’s different. After my time at DS Books, I went and got my Masters—in creative writing and not something more sensible. And the first thing I did after coming back was plan out Small World City. I put my own team together and, with them, everything started happening.
2. Do you think there is a pressing need for speculative fiction platforms, especially in the anglophone Bangladeshi context?
Mehrul: I do. Speculative fiction is a genre I feel is being taken away from our subcontinent. Whether it be Bangladeshi, Indian, Muslim, or Hindu, our cultures have a thousand-year long tradition in speculative stories. From Betaal Pachisi to Thakurmar Jhuli, to even 1,001 Nights, we have a history of mixing the everyday with the otherworldly, the mundane with the mystical. But lately, if you look at what is labelled “world literature”, our representation is centred only around “serious”, grounded literary works confronting the harsh realities of refugee crises, political unrest, and so on. Obviously, there is nothing wrong with these works, but by only promoting and awarding such stories, the southeast, or the “brown” world, has been re-exoticised as one purely of conflict and disorder. This has set a precedent, where the western concept of “serious fiction” has trickled its way here.
Genre fiction has long been considered lesser, but this has not been a view shared in the southeast. So many of Tagore’s, Satyajit Ray’s, and Humayun Ahmed’s works—the classics—are genre fiction. But today? Think of the writers who look like us—who are the ones we know of? Jhumpa Lahiri, Khaled Hosseini, Monica Ali…it’s not for nothing that we know them and not the writers of genre fiction.
With Small World City, I’d like to bring our inherent sense of creativity and mysticism back. There will often be political upheavals in the “third world”, yes, but it’s not only that. Our people also laugh and cry and sometimes see ghosts.
Shehrin: I agree, but it’s also important to consider how “serious” societal, political, and historical issues are sometimes best addressed or presented through speculative works of literature. I believe spec lit can make such topics more accessible and actually go a long way in demystifying them for readers in a way only this particular genre can. I mean, think about authors like Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Kazuo Ishiguro, or Octavia E. Butler. Spec lit is not unserious, it’s not divorced from the “real world”. Rather, I think it often allows readers to explore and understand complex or heavy topics without the barriers often associated with direct discussion.
3. What piece of advice would you give to aspiring writers and visual artists, especially those in Bangladesh and the diaspora?
Shehrin: My first piece of advice to any writer is the same one you’ve heard forever: read. If you’re a writer, reading is crucial, because it’ll enhance your understanding of different writing styles and techniques, which—in my personal experience—prompts experimentation with new words, phrases, and stylistic approaches in your own work. It’s also important to vary what you read: from literary and genre fiction to poetry, cultural literature and lit crit, the more you read, the more insight you gain into different (or alternative) viewpoints and experiences. For POC or racialised writers like us, it is also important to prioritise reading work written by people who look and sound like us. Not to mention, you’ll not only sharpen your skills, but will probably become a more empathetic human being. Because that’s why we write, yes? That’s why we read. 
And it goes without saying that if you don’t practise your writing regularly, you probably won’t get very far. I don’t think every writer needs to write every day, but there needs to be conscious efforts to put in those proverbial 10,000 hours. And this is, of course, true for any craft.
Finally, get out there. Meet more writers, talk to them, share your work with one another, give honest (but gentle) feedback. And SWC can probably help with that.
4. Any favourite fiction, nonfiction, and poetry you would recommend to readers (and potential submitters) of SWC?
Shehrin: Extending from what I said earlier, for titles dealing with social injustice or historical political issues, my favourites are Midnight’s Children (1981) by Salman Rushdie and The Handmaid’s Tale (1985) by Margaret Atwood. Our Share of Night (2019) by Mariana Enriquez is a recent favourite in this area. Also, Sarah Bari’s review prompted me to read Hellfire by Leesa Gazi (translated by Shabnam Nadiya), which is easily one of the best things I’ve read in my life. And speaking of psychological horror/thriller, I will always recommend We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962) by Shirley Jackson. Also, The Haunting of Hill House (1959) by Shirley Jackson. Actually, any fiction by Shirley Jackson.
In terms of poetry, the options are simply too many, and that’s a journey of discovery one must make on their own. That being said, please read Romeo and Juliet (1597) by William Shakespeare (trust me).
Mehrul: All those works definitely, and I would also like to stress a need for alternative storytelling. Nonfiction, firstly, is a genre I feel is a little unexplored by writers and readers here. In the Dream House (2019) by Carmen Maria Machado is a book that has such a profound effect on its readers. I personally know at least five writers who read it and immediately felt a need to replicate its spirit or structure or cadence—myself being one of them. The last few years especially, I’ve been drawn more toward stories that blur the lines between nonfiction and fiction, or even poetry. Patricia Lockwood, Mashiul Alam, Esi Edugyan, and Meena Kandasamy are always favourites.
Secondly, I feel comic books are not only underrepresented but under-heralded. The alternate comics of the early ’90s, like Love and Rockets, Eightball, Dirty Plotte, and Black Hole, have greatly influenced my work, as well as the spirit I want to capture in our magazine. In our own scene, we have Dhaka Comics doing great work, and creators like Fahim Anzoom Rumman are releasing exciting titles.
5. How do you think the Bangladeshi anglophone literary scene could be improved? For instance, I have personally noticed that there is a dearth of grants, paying markets, and workshops which could motivate Bangladeshi anglophone writers.
Shehrin: At SWC we take pride in the fact that our first writing workshop, held in five classes through January and February of 2024, not only introduced writers to new modes of exchanging appraisals of their work, but also served as a community-building platform. This is of utmost importance for us as Anglophone Bangali writers with limited resources and opportunities.
In addition to workshops, we need more intimate dialoguing events, such as writer Q&A sessions—kind of like micro-level Lit Fests. Also, shout out to Ampersand: Spoken Word Dhaka, a collective whose initiatives in organising poetry slams proved to be pivotal in connecting writers and showcasing their work back in the day. I know Star Books & Literature now hosts regular slam poetry events, which I love. I’d like to see more of such initiatives.
Prioritising the translation of contemporary Bangla works into English can also propel the Bangladeshi anglophone literary scene. We already have talented translators working towards this goal, like Shabnam Nadiya, whose translation of Hellfire is just one of many; Noora Shamsi Bahar, recipient of The Antonym’s Tagore Award for translated fiction; and Sharoza Nahrin, whose translation of Shahidul Zahir was met with great praise. Efforts by bodies like the Dhaka Translation Center (under Dr Kaiser Haq at The University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh) are also promising, but exposure seems to be somewhat lacking.
Finally, incorporating more Bangladeshi and South Asian anglophone literature into school and university curricula can help ingrain an appreciation for local literature on a cultural level. We need more consciously designed literary studies programs focused on Bangladeshi writing.
As our literary scene grows, financial support or gains will naturally follow.
6. Are there any plans yet of paying contributors? Could you mention some obstacles you have faced or could be facing in the future with regard to securing grants and funds to sustain the magazine as a paying market?
Farhia: We are working on building a sustainable revenue model where we will be able to compensate our contributors and grow SWC without having to depend on self-funding or grants. Currently, online magazines in Bangladesh are difficult to monetise, often failing to cover operational costs or contributor fees.
In terms of raising funds through grants, perhaps the most significant obstacle is that most grants require some level of quantifiable impact, or some level of legal incorporation. In other words, grant-making organisations and sponsors prioritise more mainstream or socially-oriented projects, which was one of the driving factors for the ideation of our first workshop. Another obstacle is that while there are a lot of grants and funds out there for online magazines, or literature in general, they are almost always for everywhere but Bangladesh. International grants tend to have a global applicant pool, which increases competition significantly. There aren’t as many grant options for us to pick from, and that can be frustrating at times.
7. Do you hope to submit some of the SWC pieces to international prizes like the Pushcart Prize?
Farhia: It’s definitely part of our long-term plan. There are a few recognitions and prizes we have plans to apply for or submit to, like Best of the Net and Best Small Fictions. But at the same time, as a small team we want to use our current resources on growing our reader base, cultivating the local writers, and growing the literary industry here. Before the awards and prizes, we want to make some changes where we can have more talented writers pursuing writing as a full time job, push our amazing content to the world, and represent Bangladeshi writers globally. Submitting to international prizes, at the moment, is not at the top of our priority list. 
8. Do you mind giving a snapshot of SWC’s future projects?
Farhia: We have a bunch of cool projects lined up for the coming year. After the resounding success of our first writing workshop, we plan to host more workshops, as well as community events, to further cultivate the reading and writing culture in Bangladesh. We also have some exciting upcoming collaborations with local artists. And most importantly, we might be releasing a limited edition of print materials. Keep an eye on our Instagram page for the latest updates!
Shah Tazrian Ashrafi’s debut book of literary fiction, The Hippo Girl, was published by Hachette India in February 2024.