From the IPAF Shortlist to the Final Six

From the IPAF Shortlist to the Final Six:

Sampsa Peltonen on What Makes A Novel Stand Out

In conversation with Allison Armijo

Last month, the International Prize for Arabic Fiction (IPAF) narrowed down their selections for 2025 from a longlist of sixteen to a shortlist of six. Finnish translator and IPAF judge Sampsa Peltonen discusses the painstaking process of selecting standout novels. From analyzing trends in the 124 submissions to weighing technical merit against storytelling power, Peltonen reflects on the challenge of balancing criteria with gut instinct. Speaking with Allison Armijo, he shares how his background in translation shapes his approach to judging and why diversity in the shortlist reflects the richness of contemporary Arabic literature.

Allison Armijo: Did you find it harder to select the initial sixteen for the longlist, or to narrow to the six-book shortlist? What’s the hardest part about eliminating a novel from consideration?

Sampsa Peltonen: Everything about selecting works (i.e. comparing apples and oranges) is frustratingly difficult! But obviously the shortlist was much more difficult to carve out. The longlist leaves room for some surprises, some more personal favorites, whereas in choosing the shortlist, many darlings must be killed, because the rules dictate that we must be able to come up with six novels that we all feel comfortable presenting even though we all would have wanted to add in a personal favorite. Eliminating a novel is excruciatingly hard because we are all aware of the enormous impact that getting nominated in the longlist or shortlist can have to an author. And we were not unanimous about all the chosen works – which obviously is a good sign.

When going through the initial 124 novels submitted to the prize, what struck you about the kinds of novels publishers choose to submit? Were there trends, thematically or stylistically?

SP: It is difficult to generalize. Some publishers (maybe smaller ones?) seem to try to think ahead what kind of a book would be suitable for this particular prize. I don’t think that is a good strategy. They should just submit the one they honestly feel is their best. Otherwise, the trends are fairly predictable: quite a number of historical novels, growing numbers of books that have something to do with the Arab diaspora, gut-wrenching stories of people struggling with day-to-day life. I was hoping I would see some more surprises, books that would somehow stick out, astonish me somehow. I know such books exist, but they do not always seem to be the ones that get to be submitted to IPAF.

One interesting thing about the submitted works is that many of the books I really enjoyed as a European reader and translator were not the ones that ended up on the longlist, for example stories about fascinating communities: they were perhaps not written in a language that meets the high standards of the reading elite, but I was somehow enthralled by them, and I think they could work really well in translation.

And when reading through 124 novels, how did you keep them all from blurring into each other?

SP: Luckily, I had previous experience from work like this as I was on the jury of one of Finland’s biggest literary prizes, the Finlandia, some years ago. I knew how important it is to take notes all the time while reading the submitted works, otherwise there is no way to remember details about this number of books. I wrote down names of characters, main events, and impressions the text gave me. However, the books that ended up in our selections are all such that they had a strong identity from the very beginning, they were not the kind that would easily blur into other books.

What are the enjoyable parts of being a prize judge (and less-enjoyable parts)?

SP: Although I love reading, this kind of jury-reading is not all the time very pleasant; at times it feels new texts are constantly arriving like on an assembly line, and I must evaluate them very quickly before new ones push their way in. It is not natural to read literature under these conditions. But everything got much more enjoyable as soon as we had our first meetings and discussed the books together. Exchanging opinions, getting new insights from other members who all approached the texts from different points of view: it was wonderful. And I am sure I will get a lot of enjoyment in the years to come from everything I have learnt from this experience: I think this project made me a better translator, because having now read contemporary Arabic fiction more widely (and not only guided by my own taste), contextualizing the books I will translate in future will be easier.

Could you share some general insights into the discussions that took place among the judges? Did you have shared criteria when assessing the novels, or did everyone consult their own gut? 

SP: I am sure all juries begin their work by discussing criteria, and probably most juries end up not fixing very precise ones. I think this is a good thing. It is important to be aware of certain axes of criteria: language, structure, creativity… But none of them are very easily measured, and none of them alone makes a book excellent. If good readers follow their intuition, I am sure they end up choosing books that fulfill many of the technical criteria as well. Our discussions were honest and positive; I think we all felt it was a comfortable environment to tell others if we found a certain book to be technically modest but an entertaining read – or, the other way round, a beautifully written piece of prose that was really boring despite its technical merits.

This year’s shortlist includes authors from six different countries. What do you think it reflects about Arabic literature that the shortlist isn’t clustered in one or two countries?

SP: Our work was completely centered around the novels themselves, and we did not really talk about the authors’ home countries. The geographical distribution of the short list is therefore coincidental. It’s difficult to say how that reflects the reality of Arabic literature, but I certainly hope it encourages people to become more curious about books written outside of their home countries. Arabic-speaking countries are dizzyingly diverse, there is so much to learn, so much to discover!

How does your background as a translator influence your perspective during the judging process? (And the fact that there are a number of academic-translators on this year’s panel of judges?)

SP: Experience in translation, or at least some awareness of the process of translating literature, certainly helps analyze texts. Even a skilled reader rarely dissects a book as meticulously as a translator. One can only translate a text one fully comprehends (or has a solid interpretation of), and the translation process quite cruelly reveals all sorts of flaws in the text. Academics, on the other hand, contribute greatly to a better understanding of the books’ contexts and structure. Then again, I also find it very important even in professional contexts such as these to leave room for intuition and to represent in some ways ordinary (albeit enlightened) readers as well.

Allison Armijo is a writer and editor based in Boston, USA.