The Discipline of Decentralization: Expanding the Global Bookshelf with Dr. Peggy Levitt
Authored by Indiana M. A. Humniski
“Why do reading lists coming from the West claim such authority in a field with such hyperbole?” – this is one of the first questions that Dr. Peggy Levitt posed to attendees as she delivered a keynote address on the first day of the “Identity in Motion: Literary Representations of Refugees, Exiles, and Immigrants,” an International Conference by UMIH Research Affiliate, Dr. Mariya Shymchyshyn, supported by the Institute and the Departments of German and Slavic Studies and English, Theatre, Film, and Media.
Image description: a hand places a nondescript book into a vertical stack of others.
The reading list that Levitt refers to is the New York Times’s 2024 article entitled “The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century.” Dr. Levitt was keen to point out that the vast majority of these so-called “Best Books” were English-language books written largely by a white populace of authors. The list – perhaps predictably – focused on American literature with a secondary yet still overruling focus on European texts. She supplemented this observation by sharing a statistic: only 3% of literature published in the United States are works-in-translation and, further, less than 1% of those outliers are fiction or poetic texts. The effects of this “inequality pipeline” in the publication space ripples beyond the printing press; one must wonder… if these works are not published, how can they be taught in classrooms? Thus, in the wake of the West’s continual slant away from valuing works-in-translation, Levitt insists that it is time to take on the discipline of decentralization.
Image description: a segment of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa — this segment shows blurrily mountainous backgroud with a woman, slightly smiling, in sienna.
Levitt suggests two methods with which to handle this oppressive standard: soft reform and hard reform. Soft reform may look like encouraging the traditional centres of publishing power (for example, New York, London, and Paris) to publish more expansively, thus making room for marginalized voices within existing infrastructures. This style of reform brushes the feverish brow of scholars who, as stated in the name of Levitt’s 2026 book Move Over, Mona Lisa, fear that familiar paragons of art and literary history are to be shunned in favour of new, rising stars and subjects. One may fear that, like the eponymous painting referenced in Robert Browning’s My Last Duchess, these pieces of the past are to be covered with an obscuring curtain from now until forevermore. This is, Levitt argues, not the case. Instead, as suggested in the title, it is time for old classics like the Mona Lisa to “Move Over,” leaving room on both the literal and proverbial exhibition wall for less-recognized contributions and, in turn, their contributors. In contrast, Levitt also outlined the case for hard reform. In this mindset, we change over from rearranging which works exist on the polished tables of New York, London, and Paris and, instead, flip those tables entirely. Hard reform instead argues for these traditional centres of power to become entirely decentralized.
Lucrezia di Cosimo de' Medici, the inspiration behind Browning’s poem.
A segment from Browning’s longer poem where the speaker admits to hiding away the painting in question.
While discussing the difference between these two ideologies, Levitt introduced attendees to an organization close to her cause, “The Global Decentre.” She defines the organization’s mission as being an “international, interdisciplinary network of academics communicating, producing, disseminating, teaching about, and acting upon knowledge in more inclusive ways.” With 250 members from over 35 countries, it is clear that this initiative is, indeed, acting truly internationally to help the world evolve beyond the existing inequality pipeline, as Levitt puts it, “in areas of migration, art and culture, epistemology, and pedagogy.” She describes the actions of the Global Decentre project as including the formation of new nodes of power, institutions, and alternative infrastructure to connect the brains and works of like-minded people throughout the Global North and Global South. Like Levitt’s earlier exploration of soft and hard reform strategies, she argues that the Global Decentre’s work in these fields creates a “parallel cultural landscape [that] co-exists with, competes with, or sometimes displaces longstanding cultural capitals.”
The recipe for a publication’s global success can also be related back to these “cultural capitals.” For example, Levitt mentions this “recipe” alluding to works that possess “universality with a local flair.” To use a local example, consider Miriam Toews; her 2018 novel, Women Talking, discusses the universal issue of female-focused sexual violence through the localized lens of a Mennonite community.
Image taken from Sarah Polley’s 2023 adaptation of Toews’ Women Talking (2018)
Levitt follows this first step of the “recipe” by telling attendees the adage, “every country needs a Stephen King.” Therefore, with this logic in mind, it seems that publishers are not always seeking brand-new, unadulterated voices; instead, they are looking for the perfect formula of familiarity intermingled with an “exoticized” kick: think – seeking the Argentinian Stephen King, the Nigerian Cormac McCarthy.
To clarify the format: (insert nationality) + (insert American, likely male, and likely white author). This metric is not to discount the talent of King and McCarthy but it is necessary to note the cookie-cutter ways within which emerging authors are forced to gain the attention of organizations; even if you do not fit the genome of these well-renowned writers, you will – at least – be expected to perform like them.
Segment of Hans Holbein the Younger’s Portrait of Erasmus (1467-1536) depicting a man’s hands writing unintelligible words on a sheet of paper with a stylus.
In the riptide of these publishing ideologies, Levitt insists that we must work to decentralise everything: ourselves as Individuals (which she marks with a capital-I), the ideas and content that we work with, the institutions where we conduct this work, and the infrastructures that connect them. Once we take on these steps, Levitt argues that the way that we read, engage, and publish will follow suit. Regarding this decentralization of familiar powers, shared a comedically cartographic example of fellow scholars “wanting books to pass from Buenos Aires to Mexico City without having to go through Madrid.” Levitt suggests that, similarly to the trek of this imagined book, the mobilization of creatives– particularly of younger generations – statistically helps their work gain the attention of the world, branching out beyond the borders of their home countries. This is, of course, a path that requires substantial funds. Decentralization, however, offers another track to tread.
It is persuasive to think that – if one adopts either the soft reform mentality of expanding the global literary centres or the hard reform mentality of creating new centres – perhaps, the onus will shift from the shoulders of the creative, prompted to mobilize and network to no end, onto the institutions themselves. Here, the buried creative moves from a singular voice, crying out on a deserted island, to a collection of voices finally being heard (and, in terms of the New York Times, even being listed and thus, marked as valuable). Within these proposed pathways of reform, it is not the responsibility of the creative to morph themselves to attract the eyes of the globe but, rather, the responsibility of the institutions to widen their gaze (or, in some cases, to get a brand-new prescription).
To read more about Dr. Levitt’s forthcoming book, Move Over Mona Lisa, click here.