The most recommended books on Bangladesh

This is a non-fiction classic about ‘tiger culture’ of a remote part of India where tigers do not fear humans as they do elsewhere: in fact, they even hunt down and eat dozens of people every year in this giant Sundarbans swamp where natural prey is scarce. Montgomery is brilliantly evocative while bringing to life both nature and humans of the swamp, making the book a NY Times best-seller. The local culture, where tigers are loathed, feared, and revered as deities—all at the same—is portrayed stunningly. These habitats, tiger behaviors, and local cultures are strikingly different from the ones I describe in my book. Montgomery views the tiger through a filter of human culture, whereas I do so through a filter of hard ecology. Yet, we admire each other’s work because we are both under the spell of the same tiger.   

I loved the author's innovative, passionate, and broadminded approach as he experimented and succeeded in bringing tiny loans to the poorest of the poor in his country, Bangladesh. His bank lifted millions out of poverty and provided an example that has been copied in many other nations, deservedly winning him the Nobel Peace Prize.

Having worked part-time on an agricultural project in Bangladesh for many years, I appreciate his challenges and the ingenuity required to overcome them. I like that he identified impoverished women as the primary clients for the bank and figured out how to overcome prevailing religious and cultural norms to include them.

His model, which relies heavily on peer pressure to achieve high loan repayment rates, has revolutionized micro-lending worldwide.    

This book is probably among the first ones written by a Pakistani author on the history of the 1971 war, aka Liberation War of Bangladesh, which thrilled me as a reader. It challenges not only the statist-nationalist accounts of Pakistan but those from India and Bangladesh as well.

Anam, the author, accomplished commendable work by talking to people across the cartographies and bringing up diverse and contradictory perspectives about the pretexts and events of 1971-related politics. While after all these years, both the state and society of Pakistan and Bangladesh remained taboo to each other, such a venture appears to be the silver lining of knowledge sharing between the entities in the two territories.

Unsettling for the conformists, nationalists, and statists, this piece of work is a must-read for everyone interested in the region.

As an author from Nepal, I have learned the most from Rohinton Mistry than any other South Asian writer about how to “translate” the landscape and language of my country for an international audience. Such a Long Journey was the first novel that taught me how to integrate the social and political seamlessly into the psychological makeup of my protagonist—in an English that is uniquely local. In the novel, Gustad Noble, a devoted family man, gets snared into the deception and corruption of the government under Indira Gandhi. It’s a riveting read, and Mistry is superb with vivid descriptions. That the book was banned in certain conservative circles in India makes it even more of a gem. 

Delwar Hussein, an anthropologist, conducted his research along the north-eastern borderline of Bangladesh. He has been fascinating in depicting the transformation of the borderland from a site of evolving nation-states to the catchment area of cross-border neoliberal capitalism.

Hussein crafted the minute details of how the cement factory had changed the communities, lives, and livelihoods at that margin. The marginality of the Borderlanders is central in this work; however, as often, Borderland studies surprise us, this book also talks about opportunities and hopes. It would enable its readers to look into the postcolonial nation-states with an unorthodox approach.

This is an award winning book by an extraordinary social commentator who turned his anthropological eye to the Bangladeshi garment industry in the aftermath of Rana Plaza – the 2012 factory collapse that killed 1,138 people. This is painstaking and sensitive work documenting the lives of workers and the poverty and instability that drives people into garment factories. It is also a detailed explanation of how Rana Plaza was the latest in a long list of industrial homicides that stretches back to imperialism and the East India Company. It is exceptional.

I love this book because it so completely submerged me in the life and surroundings of the protagonist, Nazneen, a young Muslim woman who leaves her small Bangladeshi village to live in a London council flat in an arranged marriage with an older man.

Ali conveys a visceral sense of the stifling apartment, the tedious work, the bleak weather, and the loneliness and dullness of Nazneen’s life. Not that it’s a place we want to be, but we experience Nazneen’s yearning for escape so profoundly that we root passionately for her as she pursues some degree of freedom and purpose.

A master of the finest detail, Ali brings the sights, smells, and sounds of Brick Lane to dazzling life.

I love Rumer Godden’s novels, but I’m even fonder of her memoirs, especially this one. Writing with her sister, Jon, she describes life in Naryangang (then in British India, now in Bangla Desh) during and shortly after World War 1. The large household, the bazaar, the diversity of people, the bright sun and the monsoon rains, the wealth and the poverty, the danger of rabid dogs, the holidays in hill stations…I grew up in India forty years after Jon and Rumer Godden, but in many ways, their experiences bring back my own childhood.

Willem van Schendel is one of those first few names who are the authority on Bengal Borderland. Schendel's interest in the Bengal Borderland and Bangladesh has been persistent for decades.

This particular volume is significant because the author focused on the complex and intertwined relationship between border-making in the region and the historical perpetuation of 1947. The book helps one to see how the Partition, far from being an event from the past, has yet been unfolding in the lands and lives of people living there. I consider it to be an intervention of both Partition studies and Borderland studies.

A historian by training, Schendel has taken his methodological venture into the realm of anthropology, and his empirical research reciprocated the political history with a rich social corpus.

Samira is a Rohingya girl whose family fled anti-Muslim violence in Myanmar and now lives near a refugee camp in a Bangladesh beach town. This doesn’t sound like the set-up for a “sports” book, yet like all the best sports books, this beautiful novel-in-verse is about so much more than simply winning or losing a game. I love the way Guidroz shows the strong bonds that form within a team – in this case, a group of girls who help one another learn to swim and surf, defying cultural standards that bar girls from these activities. I also love how participating in this sport gives Samira a way to grow as an individual and claim her own identity: “Before I was Samira,” she says. “Now, I am Samira the Surfer.”