One of the major accusations against African publishing giants has been that they favour only established writers. I almost shared that view until I found myself on the other side and realised how difficult it really is to identify new writers, publish good works, and, at the end of the day, stay afloat in the publishing business.
To start off, it goes without saying that educational books are the holy grail of African publishing. Besides publishing textbooks, opportunities often arise to produce literary works for the school market, mainly set books and government-approved class readers. Needless to say it would be foolhardy and self-defeatist to ignore such openings.
And cost-effectiveness dictates that publishers have to submit for approval what they already have, which means by default betting on already published works, many of them by established writers. For only when publishers make a few extra coins from such projects can they afford to launch works by new voices.
The bigger challenge is that, even after publishing new voices, few readers actively seek books by relatively unknown authors. Substantial sums must therefore be spent publicising and marketing works by upcoming writers.
What’s more, refining even good works takes time. Sadly, many new writers, when asked to revise their scripts, perceive this kind of feedback as rejection couched in diplomatese and decline to rework their manuscripts. Others undertake a perfunctory revision, which sometimes leads to actual rejection.
Unlike elsewhere in the world, there are only a handful of literary agents in Africa to act as intermediaries between publishers and emerging writers, and those available often prefer established names.
In this maze, talent goes down the drain and publishers miss opportunities to showcase new voices. Even authors who bypass legacy publishers and self-publish on platforms like Amazon or Zulu struggle to generate significant sales for the same old reasons.
In such a constrained environment, literary journals are a proven path to launching new writers into the literary hall of fame. They simultaneously discover talent and give it access to an existing readership, turning greenhorns into established writers almost overnight, while subjecting their works to the rigours of professional editing. It is no surprise, then, that many gifted African authors have historically found breakthroughs not at home, but in journals such as Paris Review and The New Yorker.
The late Binyavanga Wainaina won the Caine Prize in 2002 for “Discovering Home”, which circulated widely in East African literary circles and led him to found Kwani?, a journal that stirred the East African literary nest somewhat, kicked up a bit of controversy and nurtured emerging writers.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie gained international attention through early fiction and features in major magazines, including The New Yorker, signalling her as a writer to watch and bolstering the reception of her debut novel Purple Hibiscus (2003). These and other examples illustrate how journal exposure opens doors to prizes, publishers and international readership. They also show the vital role journals, both local and international, play in identifying, validating and propelling African literary talent onto the world stage.
And while this diaspora-dependent route has helped launch stellar careers, literature is ultimately a cultural affair. A humorous short story in one part of the world may ring hollow elsewhere due to differences in nuance and context. This exposes the folly of African writers relying on platforms outside the continent to validate them.
Africa urgently needs journals sponsored by regional agencies. Such journals would provide dependable avenues to publish, earning writers recognition first from the continent’s 1.4 billion people and participating in a literary economy rooted in African priorities rather than foreign validation. Perhaps, instead of the trolls and brickbats flying across borders between youth, greater literary collaboration would foster harmonious co-existence while empowering young writers.
There are already great efforts on the continent, including journals such as Lolwe, Lawino and initiatives by non-profits like the African Writers Trust (AWT). Founded in 2009 by Ugandan novelist and activist Goretti Kyomuhendo, AWT connects African writers on the continent and in the diaspora, enabling skill-sharing, networking and resource access. Through writing workshops, mentorship programmes, cross-continental networking and its online bookshop, Tubaze African Books, AWT makes African-authored books published abroad accessible and affordable to continental readers.
A couple of robust, pan-regional literary journals would also nurture editors, translators, critics and designers while providing one of the clearest paths towards cultural independence, creative confidence and fair discovery of talent across Africa. And this would not be a fresh effort. Historically, African journals have served as the microscopic lenses that first made writers visible to editors, prizes and readers.
Transition, founded in 1961 in Kampala, nurtured early African writers, including Ngugi wa Thiong’o, whose Weep Not, Child gained momentum after meeting Chinua Achebe. Its legacy continues through EAEP, marking 60 years of cultural publishing, this notable milestone.
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In West Africa, platforms like Black Orpheus (established in 1957 in Ibadan, Nigeria) served as catalysts for modern literature, while in East Africa, student- and university-based journals provided critical avenues for publishing poems, short fiction, essays and criticism. Peer publications at Dar es Salaam, Makerere, Nairobi and beyond created a dispersed yet vibrant network of literary and intellectual exchange that defined modern East African literature.
The point here is that African literature has never depended solely on “big presses”, but the continent must now bolster and expand the efforts already underway.
It is high time we strengthened a literary ecosystem that nurtures talent, celebrates cultural identity and fosters sustainable continental growth. For literary journals remain the surest path to propelling new writers into the hall of fame.