Honouring the Marathi novel, that has echoes worldwide

Bhalchandra Nemade’s Kosala (1970) receives special focus in the new volume. It dissects the Marathi ethos through college student Pandurang Sangvikar; (right) In Swatantryottar Marathi Kadambari, author Avinash Sapre traces the post-Independence evolution of the Marathi novel

Thomas C Foster's How to Read Novels Like a Professor includes an oft-quoted line: "Novels aren't about heroes. They're about us." He emphasises how novels resonate by capturing everyday struggles and aspirations. This insight feels especially relevant to Swatantryottar Marathi Kadambari (Shabdalaya Prakashan), where critic and English professor Avinash Sapre traces the post-Independence evolution of the Marathi novel. From Baba Padmanji's Yamuna Paryatan (1857) - widely considered the first Marathi novel - to contemporary works like Bhalchandra Nemade's Hindu (2013), Sapre explores how the form has chronicled the transformations of Marathi-speaking people.

As Marathi Language Day approaches on February 27, especially in light of Marathi's recent recognition as a classical language, the book reminds us how the Marathi novel has pushed boundaries - reflecting and reimagining realities - while also highlighting where it must outdo itself. Iconic works like VS Khandekar's Yayati (a reinterpretation of mythology), Bhau Padhye's Rada and Vasunaka (uncovering Mumbai's underbelly), Kamal Desai's Kala Surya Aani Hat Ghalnari Bai (an assertion of female individuality), Rangnath Pathare's Saatpatil Kulvruttant (an epic spanning seven centuries), and Nemade's Kosala (capturing the existential angst of a young protagonist) exemplify this transformation.

Sapre argues that Maharashtra has seen watershed moments, reflected in poetry and theatre, but the Marathi novel has yet to take a panoramic approach

The book doesn't just map Marathi novels chronologically in a linear structure; it examines the novel's evolution through varied registers - through pradeshik novels reflecting regional identities, through stylistic departures like Anil Damle's Gautami Chi Gosht and Makarand Sathe's Garden of Eden Urf Sai Society, and through poets like BS Mardhekar and Namdeo Dhasal, whose sensibilities brought a new edge to the form.

Post-1960s, the Marathi novel absorbed life more fully, fearlessly tackling taboos and exploring vasana-vikaar-vidhwans (desire, vice, destruction) without moral judgment. Integrating history, biography, and reportage, it connected with a diverse readership - slum-dwellers, literati, homemakers, industrial workers, and socialites. It also amplified voices from rural and marginalised communities, expanding its scope with works like Annabhau Sathe's Fakira, Vibhavari Shirurkar's Aaba (Bali), Venkatesh Madgulkar's Rajaram (Bangarwadi), Anand Yadav's Narba (Gotavla), RR Borade's Parbati (Pachola), and Uddhav Shelke's Kavtika (Dhag). Marathi literature can take pride in works that speak candidly against women's sexual and religious exploitation, with novels like Jogin, Bhavin, Bhandarbhog, Chondka, Bhinna, Br, Sood, Zulva, and Natrang exposing its many shades.

SN Pendse's Tumbadche Khot, though Konkan-based, lacks deeper exploration of the region's complexities

Translated works have enriched the Marathi novel-reading experience, with Aranyak (Bengali), Tamas (Hindi), Band Darwaza (Punjabi), Latancha Awaz (Tamil), Kimayagar (Malayali), and Mukajaji (Kannada) opening new windows for readers. Marathi novels have drawn from regional literature as well as English bestsellers like The Alchemist, Contagion, The Da Vinci Code, and The Godfather, alongside the Harry Potter series and Agatha Christie's mysteries. Beyond pop fiction, Nobel Prize-winning works like Orhan Pamuk's Snow are also available in Marathi, while Marathi novels, in turn, have found new readers through translations into English and other Indian languages.

Swatantryottar Marathi Kadambari acknowledges the vast scope of the Marathi novel without indulging in mere praise. Sapre highlights both achievements and limitations, particularly of early novelists who, constrained by personal circumstances, struggled to capture universal tensions, often setting poor precedents. The book even names revered and popular novelists who, despite their stature, fell short of delivering an immersive experience.

Sapre argues that Marathi literature lacks a masterpiece on the scale of War and Peace or The Great Gatsby. The issue isn't exposure - many novelists have travelled, received prestigious scholarships, and engaged with Western writers - yet their work hasn't gained that depth. "Maharashtra has seen watershed moments, reflected in poetry and theatre, but the Marathi novel has yet to take a panoramic approach, especially in addressing complexities like caste reservations."

Sapre cites Sayajirao Gaekwad III, the progressive Maharaja of Baroda, who, at the 18th Marathi Sahitya Sammelan in 1932, lamented the lack of Marathi novels capturing Maharashtra's coastal life. The Konkan coastline - spanning 720 km from Gujarat to Goa - encompasses cities like Mumbai, Ratnagiri, Alibaug, and Sindhudurg, rich in geography, culture, and maritime history.

Even decades after Gaekwad's lament, no writer has risen to the challenge. SN Pendse (1913-2007) and GN Dandekar (1916-1998), though popular for their Konkan-based works, failed to produce anything of classic stature. Pendse's Rathchakra (1969), Tumbadche Khot (1955), and Garambicha Bapu (1952), along with Dandekar's Shitu (1954), Pavankhind (1962), and Padghavli (1966), offer insights into the region's socio-economic struggles but remain melodramatic, lacking deeper explorations of its cultural, ecological, and political complexities.

The book identifies a sociological shift: post-Independence, entertainment-driven novels rose with increasing literacy and demand for Diwali specials and magazines. Pre-Independence author NS Phadke, who blended entertainment into his work, paved the way for popular novelists like Chandrakant Kakodkar, Baburao Arnalkar, SN Navare and VP Kale. Though widely followed, they avoided experimentation. Baba Kadam introduced middle-class readers to intrigue, weaving in race, crime, and royalty. Writers like Ramesh Mantri, Raja Rajwade, Shashi Patwardhan, and GV Behere explored romance, detective fiction, and slapstick comedy. Female writers such as Suman Bhadbhade, Chandraprabha Joglekar, and Shakuntala Phatak produced similarly limited works for a white-collar audience.

Many of these authors, predominantly from Brahmin backgrounds, brought a narrow range of lived experiences to their writing. They lacked the curiosity needed to explore life in all its complexity and their works, as a result, never fully engaged with the broader human experience. This absence of depth hindered both their personal growth and the genre's evolution.

Sapre argues that popular Marathi novelists - especially Phadke and Khandekar - were not progressive. They mastered the novel as a craft but failed to engage with universal truths that could elevate their work. Their resistance to experimentation, which was done by their counterparts in other parts of the globe, meant their writing rarely captured life's nuances or resonated with everyday readers. For instance, GT Madkholkar's "political" novels lacked the complexities of human politics; while later works like Simhasan, Dombaryacha Khel, Sata Uttarachi Kahani, Tarfula, and Tamrapat explored Maharashtra's politics with greater sensitivity.

Nemade's Kosala (1970) receives special focus in the new volume. A trendsetter, it dissects the Marathi ethos through college student Pandurang Sangvikar. Randhir Shinde, professor at Shivaji University and writer of the foreword, states, "Kosala redefined the Marathi novel, sharply critiquing Maharashtrian culture and society." He highlights its groundbreaking departure from rigid conventions, introducing a raw, diary-like Marathi, which Sapre rightly celebrates.

Kosala is the gold standard, challenging the literati to look beyond the surface. With this benchmark in hand, it's time to elevate Marathi literature's sub-genres, particularly the historical novel. Too often, this genre takes the easy route of glorifying warrior kings, neglecting the deeper humanity that history truly deserves. If we fail to address this, we will remain content with bestsellers like Swami, Mrityunjay, and Shreeman Yogi - popular works that could have reached greater heights.

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com