Much of your work has focused on the used books market in Delhi. How did your engagement with this subject begin and in which directions did it evolve?
My engagement with the used books market in Delhi began during my MPhil research on love letter writing manuals in Old Delhi. These manuals, often ephemeral and niche, introduced me to the vibrant yet overlooked world of informal book markets. However, my fascination with books had always been different — I was drawn not just to the texts themselves but to the spaces where they circulated and the relationships they fostered. This curiosity deepened during my PhD research at SOAS, where I focused on the Daryaganj Sunday Book Market or the Sunday Patri Kitab Bazaar. Initially, my goal was to explore how these markets operated within informal economies, but over time, I began to see them as microcosms of the city’s socio-cultural and economic dynamics. My work evolved to examine the intersection of spatiality, serendipity, and storytelling in these spaces. This journey culminated in my book Old Delhi’s Parallel Book Bazaar which tells the story of this unique market and its resilience amid urban regulatory pressures.

How does one study a book market?
Studying a book bazaar requires a flexible and interdisciplinary approach. Besides archival research, I planned to use ethnography and rhythm analysis to understand the spatial and temporal dynamics of the Daryaganj Sunday Book Market. Ethnography allowed me to engage with booksellers and buyers, capturing their lived experiences, while rhythm analysis helped map the market’s rhythms—its cycles of setting up, selling, and dismantling every Sunday. When the market was relocated to Mahila Haat in 2019, my methods had to adapt. I incorporated media reportage to track public and policy narratives around the move and engaged in direct participation by participating in the protests and, later, spending long hours observing and interacting with booksellers in their new space. Walking through the ‘new’ bazaar with booksellers, witnessing their interactions with customers, and even handling books alongside them brought a tactile dimension to my research. These methods together allowed me to decipher the market as an intersection of economy, space, and culture.

What are the literary genres which are represented in these markets?
Old Delhi’s Daryaganj Sunday Book Market is a microcosm of Delhi’s literary diversity. It caters to a broad audience, housing academic textbooks, pirated bestsellers, rare out-of-print works, regional pulp fiction, comics, self-help manuals, and even ephemeral literature like magazines and old Hindi film posters. Each stall reflects a curated mix, with some booksellers specialising in niche collections. For instance, Dilshad Ali’s stall features a remarkable variety: rare editions of Surendra Mohan Pathak’s Hindi pulp thrillers, alongside imported Asterix comics and popular Raj Comics, creating a unique blend of local and global narratives.

My engagement with these genres has been both scholarly and deeply personal. Beyond their textual content, these books tell stories of their circulation, the lives they’ve touched, and the contexts they inhabit. For instance, academic texts sold by weight underscore the economic realities of students navigating India’s competitive education system. Meanwhile, Hindi pulp fiction, often relegated to the margins of literary discourse, offers a window into the tastes and aspirations of a vast readership, celebrating a thriving yet underappreciated cultural industry. This market is not just a site of literary exchange but a dynamic archive of Delhi’s evolving socio-cultural fabric.

Other than Delhi, in which other Indian cities are there major markets for used books? Are they different in character?
India’s deep connection with second-hand books is evident in markets across the country, where these spaces take on various forms, shaped by cultural preferences and urban pressures. While nearly every city has its version of a used book market, some have grown more institutionalised, blending the charm of informal interactions with structured organisation. My fieldwork in Kolkata, Bengaluru, and Mumbai illuminated the distinct dynamics of these markets, shaped by their regions’ cultural and linguistic identities and influenced by institutional forces.

Kolkata’s College Street, or Boi Para, is the city’s literary nucleus. Despite the establishment of a modern “book mall” nearby, the streets remain the preferred hub for booksellers and buyers alike. The mall, intended to centralise and organise book sales, has yet to rival the charm of College Street’s stalls, where booksellers thrive on personal relationships and decades-old networks. The proximity to universities and the enduring presence of the Indian Coffee House reinforce the area’s reputation as a space for intellectual and cultural exchange. The resistance to the mall underscores the enduring importance of these informal, flexible setups over formalised alternatives.

Mumbai’s Flora Fountain market offers a mix of informality and cosmopolitan flair, catering to students, collectors, and casual readers. However, the market has grown smaller in size over the years. In Bengaluru, Avenue Road reflects the city’s bilingual and tech-savvy readership, offering Kannada classics alongside English textbooks. Here, like Mumbai, the pressures of urban development and real estate costs have forced some booksellers to scale down or relocate, creating tension between maintaining tradition and adapting to a rapidly modernising cityscape. Recently, Jaipur has taken a contemporary approach to its second-hand book bazaar. The recently established Sunday market has embraced social media to attract visitors, blending digital promotion with the physical charm of browsing books in person. This use of technology demonstrates how such markets are innovating to reach younger, digitally connected audiences while carving out a distinct identity in a city already known for its literary events like the Jaipur Literature Festival.

Even in cities without formalised markets, second-hand booksellers operate in the margins — outside railway stations, in neighbourhood corners, or as part of larger weekly bazaars. While these spaces offer affordable access to books, they remain vulnerable to institutional pressures, urban redevelopment, and changing consumer habits. These markets illustrate the push-and-pull between tradition and modernization, showing how second-hand book culture adapts to changing urban dynamics. Each market is not only a reflection of its city’s literary life but also a testament to the resilience of informal economies in the face of institutional and regulatory shifts.

Why is the market for antiquarian books non-existent in India?
The absence of a thriving antiquarian book market in contemporary India stems from a combination of cultural and historical factors. Unlike the West, where antiquarian books are sought after by collectors, institutions, and auction houses, the Indian market has historically prioritised affordable and practical second-hand books for students and general readers over collectable or rare editions.

Colonial histories also play a role. Many valuable manuscripts and rare books from India were either destroyed or taken to the West, limiting the pool of antiquarian materials available locally. Additionally, the lack of institutional support, such as specialised auction houses or bibliophile networks, has prevented the emergence of a structured trade in rare books. Informal markets like Daryaganj focus on accessibility, leaving little space for the niche demands of collectors. As a result, while India boasts a rich literary and archival tradition, its book markets remain focused on everyday needs rather than the preservation or trade of antiquarian texts.

Amidst these challenges, Bengaluru has seen a positive development with the opening of The Antiquarian Bookworm, a dedicated space within the Bookworm bookstore on Church Street. Launched in November 2024, this section focuses on rare and antique books, some over a century old, aiming to kindle a culture of book collecting in the city. This initiative offers a haven for bibliophiles, providing access to rare editions.

What future trajectories do you see for the market for used books in India?
The future of India’s used book markets is poised at the intersection of nostalgia and innovation, shaped by a delicate balance between rich traditions and the opportunities and challenges of a digital age. While these markets remain firmly rooted in physical spaces, the influence of the internet and social media is beginning to ripple across the landscape, though unevenly and in ways specific to each city.

At the ‘highbrow’ level, the potential lies in creating curated spaces—both physical and virtual — that focus on rare, out-of-print books, translations, and regional literature. These efforts are increasingly supported by online platforms where collectors and enthusiasts can browse, bid, or even engage in discussions about literary treasures. Social media plays a pivotal role here, with platforms like Instagram and Facebook acting as spaces for showcasing collections or hosting live discussions, enabling niche audiences to connect with booksellers and curators. At the ‘lowbrow’ level, markets like Daryaganj’s Sunday Book Bazaar remain grounded in their traditional setups, where the charm lies in physically sifting through piles of books, guided by intuition and conversation. Unlike Jaipur’s newly established Sunday book bazaar, which actively uses social media to attract visitors and promote itself, Daryaganj booksellers rely heavily on word-of-mouth and the loyal patronage of their regulars. While some individual sellers across India are beginning to engage with online marketplaces, the strength of Daryaganj and similar markets lies in their analogue experience—a counterpoint to the digital noise.

Moving forward, the internet’s role may not be to transform these markets entirely but to complement their strengths. Highbrow markets will likely expand their reach online, while lowbrow markets may continue to rely on their vibrant physicality, offering something the digital world cannot replicate: the joy of discovery and the human connections that come with it.

Could you provide a brief overview of your major publications?
My publications span academic research, long-form essays, translations, and creative writing. My monograph, Old Delhi’s Parallel Book Bazaar (Cambridge University Press, 2024), explores the Daryaganj Sunday Book Market through ethnographic and archival research, examining how informal book economies challenge mainstream publishing narratives and sustain alternative literary circuits. My forthcoming monograph, The Divine in Delhi: Uncovering Postcolonial Religious Print Cultures of the Capital City (Palgrave Macmillan, 2025), explores the intersections of postcolonial identity, religious print cultures, and urban spaces. In addition to these, my contributions include book chapters and essays in academic journals. My articles in Scroll, Seminar Magazine, and Himal Southasian bridge academic scholarship with broader public discourse.

Who are the print/book historians whose work has impressed and influenced you most?
Several scholars and their works have profoundly influenced my approach to book and print history, shaping how I frame and conduct my research. Francesca Orsini’s work on multilingual literary cultures and worldly magazines has been pivotal in understanding how texts traverse linguistic and regional boundaries. Comprehensive edited volumes such as Book History in India (Abhijit Gupta and Swapan Chakravorty) have been instrumental in framing the material, linguistic, and social dimensions of print in South Asia. Elizabeth Eisenstein and Robert Darnton have provided foundational perspectives on the transformative power of print and its cultural impacts, informing my understanding of similar dynamics in South Asia. Leah Price’s work has challenged me to think beyond the text, exploring books as material objects embedded in everyday life — a perspective that has shaped how I study ephemeral books and book spaces.

In the context of Delhi, Rashmi Sadana’s ethnographic exploration of the city’s literary spaces has shaped my methods, influencing my exploration of how informal markets like Daryaganj function as parallel ecosystems of book history. Ulrike Stark’s An Empire of Books has deepened my understanding of early Hindi publishing, particularly the pivotal role of the Naval Kishore Press in shaping print culture. Kajri Jain’s Gods in the Bazaar has added a critical dimension to my study of how print intersects with visual and religious cultures, particularly in the commodification of faith. Similarly, Akshaya Mukul’s Gita Press and the Making of Hindu India has provided critical insights into how ideological and religious narratives are embedded in print—a methodological approach that will significantly inform my next monograph. More recently, Aakriti Mandhwani’s Everyday Reading has provided critical insights into the production and consumption of middlebrow magazines and the reading practices they enable. I must also mention Nilanjana Roy’s The Girl Who Ate Books, a unique blend of memoir and literary commentary, which captures the enduring charm and complexities of Indian literary culture. These works have been my companions, inspiring how I think, write, and engage with the fascinating world of print.

The ‘afterlife’ of books is an under-researched subject in India. What is the kind of research being currently undertaken in this area?
The ‘afterlife’ of books—how they circulate, are repurposed, and acquire new meanings after their initial readership—remains an underexplored yet fascinating area of research in India. While much attention has been given to the production and distribution of books, their journeys through second-hand markets, personal libraries, and informal networks reveal equally compelling stories. This area of research holds immense potential, weaving together book history, ethnography, and archival studies to illuminate the hidden trajectories of books beyond their original purpose.

Some recent scholarships have begun to address this gap. Studies on second-hand book markets, such as my work on Daryaganj’s Patri Kitab Bazaar, highlight how books are resold, annotated, or transformed into entirely new commodities, reflecting dynamic economies of reuse. These markets often operate as archives of cultural memory, where marginalia, old ownership stamps, and even the physical condition of books tell their own stories. Notably, Pritha Mukherjee’s research on piracy in India explores how books are copied, redistributed, and consumed outside formal publishing systems, offering critical insights into how informal networks sustain the life of books while challenging conventional ideas of authorship and legality. Other researchers, such as Swara Shukla (University of Muenster), are exploring digital afterlives through online platforms that facilitate e-reading, broadening the notion of accessibility. Additionally, the concept of the afterlife extends to how books influence readers long after their first encounter. Oral histories, autobiographies, and community archives are becoming vital sources for understanding these intangible afterlives. However, more work is needed to trace the less visible trajectories of books—how they are discarded, recycled, or preserved in informal collections across India.

What is on your plate now?
I am currently working on several exciting projects that allow me to explore Delhi’s print and reading culture from different perspectives. One of these is my translation of Krishna Sobti’s Marfat Dilli, a text that masterfully blends personal memory with historical reflection, creating a narrative that explores the city’s transformation post-partition. Another major focus is the Delhi Libraries Project, my research initiative that aims to understand how libraries in the city have been defined and reimagined over the years.

I am also finalising two books: Divine in Delhi (Palgrave Macmillan, 2025), which examines the intersections of religion, urban spaces, and print, and another on love-letter writing manuals, a project that has been years in the making. Additionally, I’m beginning work on a biography of Amrita Pritam, focusing on her creative world and her engagement with socio-political changes, offering a fresh perspective on her life and work.

What excites me most is the opportunity to engage with Delhi’s print and reading landscape in such diverse ways—through translation, archival research, and ethnography. Each project offers a unique way to uncover and narrate the city’s literary and cultural history.

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Kanupriya Dhingra is Assistant Professor, Jindal School of Languages and Literature at OP Jindal Global University. Her first book, Old Delhi’s Parallel Book Bazaar, has just been published by Cambridge University Press and the digital version can be accessed here.