Celebrating 40 years at the forefront of Caribbean and Black British literature, Leeds-based independent publisher Peepal Tree Press has become a “honeypot” for writers and readers seeking stories that transcend the mainstream and preserve the cultural richness of the Caribbean and its diaspora.
The press’ inaugural title, Backdam People by the late Guyanese writer Rooplall Monar, captured the nuanced lives of sugar estate workers and exemplified the press’ commitment to literature that tells stories from within communities rather than simply about them. “Backdam People was really a do-it-yourself enterprise,” press founder Jeremy Poynting recalls. “An act of discovery about how books could be made – finding out how to sell them was a longer act of learning.” Thus began a 40-year (and counting) commitment to this act, which has seen the press grow from a one-man band into a globally respected publishing house that now employs nine people and has more than 400 titles in print.
Founded in 1985 and named after the ficus religiosa tree brought to the Caribbean by Indian indentured labourers, Peepal Tree Press is deeply symbolic of cultural transplantation and resilience. The press has since nurtured and launched the careers of some of the most significant voices in Caribbean and Black British literature, from Bernardine Evaristo to Kwame Dawes, both of whom were first published by Peepal Tree in the 1990s. “Neither Bernardine nor Kwame had agents at this stage, but we know what’s good. Bernardine [has since] moved on, but she was gracious enough to say to me recently how often Peepal Tree Press got there first,” says Poynting.
Dawes remains a core part of the press as associate poetry editor, publishing more than 20 books with the press. “The fact that we publish Kwame is undoubtedly seen as a signal of the press’ quality,” says Poynting. “And the relationship with him encouraged other quite established writers to submit work and he’s always there as a touchstone of our publishing values.”
The same is true of Jacob Ross, author and, since 2012, Peepal Tree’s associate fiction editor. He credits the press’ inclusivity, integrity and editorial depth as a rare find in the publishing landscape. “Independent publishers like Peepal Tree have always taken the nurturing role seriously,” Ross notes. “I’ve seen highly accomplished writers returning to Peepal Tree when the commercial viability of their recent work is up for question.”
Indeed, Peepal Tree does not chase bestsellers. Instead, it cultivates what it calls “long sellers” – books with enduring value that may sell modestly but steadily over time. This philosophy not only helps sustain the press financially but reflects its resistance to the disposability of literary trends. “I have a political and cultural resistance to the idea of books as objects of fashion, as disposable commodities with a short shelf life,” Poynting explains. “We’ve always been interested in finding new writers, but we’re equally committed to continuing to give space to writers we’ve published and are continuing to develop, even if their sales are modest.”
This outlook has enabled the press to support writers often deemed “unmarketable” by agents or mainstream publishers. Case in point: Monique Roffey’s The Mermaid of Black Conch, which was turned down by multiple publishers, but found a home at Peepal Tree and went on to win the Costa Book of the Year. “When this novel was offered to [us], we promptly agreed that it was one of Roffey’s best works to date. Our decision was not clouded by the financial performance of her previous work. What mattered was the quality of the novel,” says Ross.
This nurturing spirit is also reflected in the press’ demographic commitments. Nearly half its recent titles are by women, with some years reaching as high as 69%. Its openness to LGBTQ+ authors working within often hostile cultural contexts has led to the publication of groundbreaking work by Andre Bagoo, Kei Miller and Dorothea Smartt, among others. “Writing for some of these authors is both an act of courage and defiance,” says Ross.
Independent publishers are a vital part of the publishing ecosystem, but their role in nurturing talent often goes unacknowledged by the wider industry. As Poynting points out: “The commercial mainstream tends to treat the independents as mere nurseries for writers without any kind of payback for the investment they make in their development. Perhaps there should be a system, as in the English football leagues, where the clubs who have nurtured the beginnings of top players keep on getting a share of the transfer fees as they move to richer clubs.”
Peepal Tree Press has been instrumental in building literary infrastructure for Caribbean and diasporic writers, both locally and globally. Its partnership with the SI Leeds Literary Prize has supported authors including Kit de Waal and Mahsuda Snaith, while initiatives such as Peekash Press (a collaboration with Akashic Books in the United States) and writer development programme Inscribe have expanded its reach and impact. Its Caribbean Modern Classics series has restored vital works to the canon, driven by the belief that writers must know their literary ancestry.
“When I discovered that so much foundational Caribbean writing was out of print, it became a priority to do something about it,” says Poynting. “I chose books that I thought writers should have access to, so they would be challenged by their ambition and not allow themselves to imagine they wrote out of a void.”
Operating outside of London, Peepal Tree has had to overcome challenges of visibility, but it has also reaped the benefits of lower costs and strong local networks. Its Leeds base has now become a hub for Caribbean literary culture in the North. Early adoption of digital technologies, from websites to short-run digital printing, allowed the press to stay nimble and sustainable. Initially, it even printed and bound its own books in-house. “We used to think of ourselves as part of the ‘plot’ rather than the ‘plantation’,” Poynting says, referencing Caribbean history; although part of a broader capitalist structure – the plantation – the plot represented cultural survival and autonomy. “Our kind of publishing has to engage with the plantation system of international publishing, and like the plot it tends to involve a degree of self-exploitation for those who work in it, but it is also a space where you can do your own thing and maintain alternative values.”
At 79, Poynting is candid about the need to pass the torch: “Peepal Tree needs to find someone from a much younger generation to lead us into the next decade, to bring fresh ideas, vision and energy, but also the commitment to embrace our history and mission.” Still, he remains focused on future projects, including compiling the collected works of Jennifer Rahim and Anthony McNeill, two Caribbean poets of profound influence. Poynting also points to Peepal Tree’s recent partnership with HopeRoad Publishing, and its role in amplifying works such as Small Boat (shortlisted for the International Booker), as heralding an exciting new chapter.
More than a publisher, Peepal Tree Press stands as a political and cultural force. Its mission is rooted in a deep understanding of the Caribbean’s complex colonial history and a desire to honour the intertwined legacies of Britain and the Caribbean. “I think Britain owes the Caribbean a huge debt of conscience (and material compensation) and Peepal Tree attempts to do some of that repayment.”
That commitment is evident not just in the press’ catalogue, but in its ethos: nurturing over exploiting, preserving over discarding and amplifying voices that history disregarded. Forty years in, Peepal Tree Press continues to grow with grace, resilience and what a friend of the publisher once called “pathological optimism”.
“There are occasions when I pause and feel astonished by how much Peepal Tree Press has achieved, given its size and limited resources,” says Ross. “I don’t think I’m being hyperbolic when I say that this is a publishing house that punches well above its weight.”

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