The six books on the shortlist have been chosen by the 2024 judging panel: broadcaster and journalist Eleanor Wachtel, as chair; award-winning poet Natalie Diaz; internationally acclaimed novelist Romesh Gunesekera;  groundbreaking visual artist William Kentridge; and writer, editor and translator Aaron Robertson. Their selection was made from 149 books published between 1 May 2023 and 30 April 2024 and submitted by publishers – the highest number since the prize was relaunched in its current format in 2016. 

Here, the judges share their thoughts on the six books in the running for this year’s prize, the winner of which will be announced on 9 April 2024. 

Not a River by Selva Almada, translated by Annie McDermott

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up? 

A story of three friends on a fishing trip and a river in Argentina. This deceptively simple short novel contains a deep sense of foreboding and memories of past traumas, turning a seemingly bucolic trip into a haunted story. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before? 

The economy and clarity of the writing hold you from the very beginning. The abrupt transitions – a single sentence undoing the calm progression of life – is a great narrative skill; a written form somehow encompassing the shattered form of life it describes.  

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love? 

The growing antagonism of the locals towards the three fishermen, who are seen as intruding into their space, keep us in suspense for each page. We know something bad will happen, but cannot anticipate it, until it does. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why? 

The characters in the book are all wonderful. But what is really remarkable is the clarity and economy of language. The author feels like a secure guide, taking us by the hand through dangerous terrain. 

Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck, translated by Michael Hofmann

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up? 

Kairos is a richly textured evocation of a tormented love affair in the dying years of East Germany. In luminous prose, Erpenbeck fully exposes the complexity of the passionate connection between a 19-year old student and a much older writer.    

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before? 

Kairos is uncomfortable and complex. It’s about the weight of history and how it impinges on our lives. It starts with love and passion, but it’s at least as much about power, art and culture, a different kind of obsession. 

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love? 

In fluid, musical sentences, Erpenbeck brings the reader close to her characters and to the fraught demands they face. These are dramas of the body as much as moral and political dilemmas, all brought to a crisis point. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why?  

Though the novel follows two sensibilities throughout, this is Katharina’s story. We follow her as she descends into a self-destructive vortex and then re-emerges, all the while remaining connected to the larger history of East Germany during the last three years of the 1980s.  

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world?  

The novel allows the reader to become intimate with East Berlin just before the fall of the Wall, the apartments, cafés, and city streets, workplaces and foods of the city that is now gone. It also evokes the difficult moral choices of the time and the losses that came with the seismic political transformation. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why?   

Not a moment but a sensibility: Katharina is as much in love with art as she is with Hans. The discussions of music, poetry and theatre illuminate the book throughout. 

The Details by Ia Genberg, translated by Kira Josefsson

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up?  

This is a novel about friendship and loss in which the narrator quickly becomes a companion whose voice you want to continue listening to until the very end. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before?  

The attention to detail is such that the complex sentences and long paragraphs flow effortlessly without being showy. The use of four separate portraits to reflect the narrator’s life is a remarkable achievement.  

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love?  

Ia Genberg casts a spell in this novel through a quiet but determined voice that pulls you into a world of close and difficult relationships that will feel like your own. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why?  

All four main characters — Johanna, Niki, Alejandro, Birgitte — who have been important in the narrator’s life, are given the space to become individuals we can connect with and get to know much as we do in real life. 

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world?  

It is a delicately written novel that speaks to our contemporary experience of connection and isolation. How quickly people move in and out of our lives. It does so with meticulous attention. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why?   

The opening of the Niki section which takes us back into the world before social media, where everyday items like the phone directories of landlines were so important, is beautifully described and remarkably effective. The book is full of such minute observations, done with care and clarity. 

Mater 2-10 by Hwang Sok-yong, translated by Sora Kim-Russell and Youngjae Josephine Bae

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up?  

In Mater 2-10, we see Korea’s truest resilience and passion through its labourers, who when forced to choose between right and wrong, loyalty or betrayal, country or occupier, chose instead to survive another day, in whatever ways they could manage, on either side, or neither side, so that they might continue to seed the Korea of the future. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before?  

To open the novel with a protest of such great heights and then to settle into the seemingly small, mundane lives of the families who both endured and sustained their occupation and revolution, makes the ordinary extraordinary, as Jino’s night travels shift the light and shadow in ways that we come to see the miracles of determination and survival, of an entire culture, through some of the most despairing and hopeful times.  

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love?  

There is another book on the shortlist in which a wall falls, and a separated country is reunified, but in the case of Mater 2-10, Hwang Sok-yong tells the story of a nation as yet disconnected, and he tells it with no less love and pleasure, humour and care, than a story which ends in the triumph. The triumph here is not marked in history per se, rather it manifests in the richness of ancestors, both men and women, and their small or large sacrifices and triumphs that build the very things we fight for in our communities and societies today.  

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why?  

The brothers, Ilcheol and Icheol, who were respectively the grandfather and great-uncle of Jino, and whose informal names could be translated as One Steel and Two Steel, as they were named after trains, magnify the reality of choice under Occupation, since both come from the same histories and each wants to succeed and thrive, and yet one joins the collaborators and one joins the resistance.  

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world?  

The lineages and futurities of resistance feel especially important in that they reveal the time any revolution and resistance require, including the emotional and physical temporalities we create and endure, of story and action, as we simultaneously carry what came before us as we reach for what might lie ahead of us. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why?   

The introduction of Little Clippers into the early part of the novel stuck in our minds, especially those of us who come from communities where nicknames are often a humorous salve for painful events. We were also compelled and humoured by the game of chase between Icheol and his childhood friend Yamashita, who is now a police inspector and giving him chase. 

What I’d Rather Not Think About by Jente Posthuma, translated by Sarah Timmer Harvey

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up? 

What I’d Rather Not Think About is a deeply moving journey through the intertwining lives of twins grappling with the complexities of identity, loss, and the unspoken bonds that define us. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before? 

The book’s raw exploration of a twin relationship, coupled with a rare authenticity in depicting the process of mourning, provides a narrative that’s both uniquely insightful and tender in its humanity. 

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love? 

Readers will cherish the novel’s delicate balance between humour and heartbreak, as it navigates through the twins’ lives with wry wit and a moving candidness. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why? 

The brother, with his complex inner life and the starkly honest depiction of his struggles, will resonate with readers who appreciate characters that reflect the nuances of mental health struggles. 

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world? 

The novel’s frank examination of the ways that depression can shape an individual and an entire family makes it particularly relevant for today’s readers. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why? 

A moment that lingers is when the siblings attempt to waterboard each other out of a misguided sense of curiosity, leading to a profound realisation about trust, control, and the depth of their bond; it’s a raw, unsettling scene that captures the complex interplay of love and pain in close relationships. 

Crooked Plow by Itamar Vieira Junior, translated by Johnny Lorenz

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up? 

Crooked Plow is an evocative journey into the heart of Brazil’s quilombos, portraying the resilience and interconnectedness of a family and their community in the face of enduring challenges. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before? 

The novel’s deep dive into the quilombo communities of Brazil offers a unique window into a world where the legacy of resistance and the fight for land rights weave through the personal and collective narratives of its characters, a perspective rarely captured with such intimacy and authenticity. 

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love? 

The sister protagonists, Bibiana and Belonísia, embody the strength and complexity of the human spirit. Their journey, marked by a pivotal childhood incident, reflects themes of sacrifice and the power of unwavering familial bonds, all set against the rich tapestry of Brazilian folklore and history. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why? 

Readers will find a kinship with Bibiana, whose courage and inquisitiveness propel her and her sister into a world brimming with both beauty and heartache. Her character, resilient in the face of adversity, mirrors the broader community’s struggles. 

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world? 

Crooked Plow reflects the global struggle for environmental preservation, social justice, and cultural identity. It speaks to the importance of remembering our histories and protecting the land that sustains us, themes that resonate deeply in today’s increasingly globalised and environmentally precarious world. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why? 

The haunting scene where the sisters uncover a hidden knife is unforgettable. It’s a powerful metaphor for the dangers of digging into the past and the irreversible consequences that truths can unveil. This moment, so central in the sisters’ lives, underscores the novel’s exploration of secrets, memory, and the weight of history.