Literary criticism plays a vital role in any culture, serving as a bridge between writers, readers, and society. At its core, critics help people understand literature more deeply. As film critic Gulnara Abikeeva notes, “Why do we need literary critics? … to better understand literature”. In other words, critics analyze themes, styles and context, guiding readers through what can otherwise be a complex artistic landscape. The Kazakh writer Sagadat Ordasheva similarly emphasizes that critique “transcends mere criticism; it involves interpreting a writer’s work” – essentially translating an author’s ideas into accessible insights for the public. In practice, literary criticism often has several key purposes:
Deepening readers’ understanding of texts. Critics unpack literary works’ themes, history and symbolism, helping readers grasp meaning they might miss on their own.
Interpreting and explaining for audiences. Critics translate [the author’s] language into something accessible to the general public, uncovering insights hidden within the tapestry of cultural history.
Stimulating cultural and social discussion. By evaluating books and essays, critics spark debates about national identity, values and contemporary issues (for example, by highlighting how literature reflects social change).
Guiding authors and setting standards. Critical reviews offer feedback on new works, helping writers improve and signaling to the literary community what counts as quality.
This multifaceted role explains why literary criticism is needed: it enriches public engagement with literature, ensures accountability in the arts, and helps cultivate a literate society where books and ideas are taken seriously. Without critics, many of the subtleties of literature – historical references, linguistic innovation, cultural commentary – would go unexplained. In short, critics help the whole society understand the value and impact of its literature.
Early Roots of Kazakh Literary Criticism
The tradition of literary criticism in Kazakh culture dates back much further than the modern era. Even before printed books, scholars and poets reflected on language and storytelling. The Kazakh National Encyclopedia points out that Central Asian thinkers like Abu Nasr al-Farabi (10th century), Mahmud al-Kashgari, and Yusuf Balasaguni wrote about the art of speech, and later Kazakh intellectuals such as Shokan Ualikhanov, Ybyrai Altynsarin and the poet Abai Kunanbayev expressed ideas about poetry and prose. These early commentaries on language and literature can be seen as the origins of Kazakh literary criticism.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Kazakh criticism became more public with newspapers and journals. Publications like Tūrkistan walāyaty and Dala walāyaty carried articles about poetry and story-telling. By the 1900s, the literary journal Aiqap and the newspaper Qazaq regularly featured news of new books, authors’ biographies, literary reviews and essays. Important writers such as Akhmet Baitursynov, Mukhtar Auezov, Sadvakassyn Toraygirov and others contributed “rich opinions” on Kazakh literature, effectively raising public literary discourse. In this era, criticism began to coalesce into recognizable forms – biography, reviews, and literary essays – appearing as genres in the press.
Soviet Era: Ideology and debate
After the 1917 Revolution and the establishment of Soviet rule, Kazakh literary criticism took on a new character shaped by ideology. The 1920s initially saw lively debates on how Kazakh literature should develop. As one source notes, heated discussions about famous writers Abai Kunanbayev and Mağjan Jumabayev “became central issues of literary criticism” in the 1920s. Kazakh intellectuals like Säken Seifullin and Mukhtar Auezov published important critical works (for example, Abai Zholy and related essays) in this period. These discussions signaled that Kazakh criticism had matured: critics were asking how to shape a “new era” of literature and actively engaging with the national classics.
However, ideological pressures soon intensified. By the late 1920s and 1930s, the Soviet state began to control literary discourse tightly. The Kazakh National Encyclopedia explains that party doctrine became the main criterion for judgment. Literary criticism was turned “into the Party’s ideological weapon”: critics’ job was to determine a writer’s class origin (kulak, proletarian, etc.) rather than to assess artistic merit. Only about ten writers were approved members of the Kazakhstan Association of Proletarian Writers (KazAPP); the rest were “ideologically scrutinized and subjected to political persecution”. By 1929 this crackdown led to the vast majority of Kazakh authors being “innocently punished” for not fitting the party line. In practice, literature was valued more for its political content than its aesthetic qualities, and critics were tools of censorship.
This harsh ideological control peaked in the late 1930s with mass purges, effectively silencing free criticism. As Ordasheva later recalled, Soviet-era criticism “served as an instrument of ideology”. In this climate, writers and critics who did not adhere strictly to party doctrine risked exile or worse. The result was a long period when literary value was subordinated to politics, and genuine independent critique nearly vanished.
Thaw and revival: 1950s–1980s
After Stalin’s death in 1953, Soviet policy on culture loosened somewhat, and Kazakh literary criticism began to revive. By the mid-1950s, a new generation of critics emerged. Dandai Yskakuly and others were later recognized as pioneers who “lifted Kazakh literary criticism to new heights”. The National Encyclopedia notes that around 1955 criticism “reawakened and expanded” as the Soviet “freeze” began to thaw. In the 1960s and 70s, scholars produced large multi-volume histories of Kazakh literature and published in-depth analyses of contemporary issues. Lively debates returned to the press: critics engaged with topics ranging from modern writing styles to revisiting the works of Abai and other classic authors from a new perspective.
Throughout this period, literary criticism became a regular part of journalistic culture. Newspapers and magazines often had dedicated criticism sections, and anthologies of critical essays became common. For example, by the 1970s journals were running permanent literary columns and publishing essay collections (titles like Uaqyt zhane Qalamger and Sozstan appeared regularly). Critics such as Alikhan Suleimenov, Zamanbek Serikqaliyev, and later Saduakas Sarbalaev and Boris Ybyraiymov contributed prominently. In these decades, Kazakh literary criticism was fully institutionalized: a critic could be an academic or journalist with clear standards and readership. The Soviet period, for all its limitations, thus laid the groundwork for an enduring critical community in Kazakhstan.
Independence and today’s criticism
With Kazakhstan’s independence in 1991, literary criticism was liberated from Soviet ideological control. Freed from the need to conform to party lines or class-based categories, critics gained the opportunity to engage with literature on artistic and cultural terms. However, this new freedom also brought new challenges. The withdrawal of state support meant that literary criticism had to find its place in a market-oriented environment, often without institutional backing.
Scholar Dandai Yskakuly notes that “the nature of literary criticism is extremely complex... literary criticism is a multifaceted field that cannot fit into a narrow scope, connected to the entire spiritual world of society”. In other words, in the post-independence era, criticism had to address not only textual form, but also shifting notions of national identity, culture, and memory. As Nurzhan Orazalin, then head of the Writers’ Union, put it, Kazakh literary criticism “endured turbulent times and is now filled with new essays,” attempting to carry forward the legacy of critics like Serik Kirabayev and Tursynbek Kakishev.
Since independence, Kazakh literature has blossomed with new authors and genres – but many writers note that a robust critical culture has lagged behind. As writer Yuri Serebryansky argues, criticism and prizes are essential for legitimizing literature. In a 2019 interview he explained that “important moments of legitimization [for a text] are criticism and the prize process. Two interconnected things, both very relevant for Kazakhstan, since without a preliminary corpus of critical texts the prize-awarding process becomes opaque”. In other words, Serebryansky (a Kazakh-born prose writer and scholar) insists that without critics writing about new books, it’s hard for authors even to be recognized by awards or a wider readership. This perspective underscores why many Kazakh writers feel a stronger critical field is urgently needed.
Yet today, many Kazakh writers agree that criticism is weak or underdeveloped. For example, in a 2017 interview Al-Farabi University professor and poet Aslan Zhaksylikov noted bluntly that “literary criticism is undeveloped, as is the promotion of new literature”. Zhaksylikov (a well-known writer and translator) was discussing the difficulties Kazakh authors face, and he pointed out that there are virtually no outlets popularizing or critiquing new Kazakh books. Similarly, novelist and lit‑school founder Mikhail Zemskov (speaking in 2018) said the situation inside Kazakhstan is dire: “the main problem is that within Kazakhstan…we lack literary institutions, publishing, literary criticism, [and] an expert community”. Zemskov, who directs the Almaty Writers’ School, was emphasizing that without a network of critics and literary journals at home, authors struggle to reach readers (many must rely on Russian or foreign publishing instead).
Even veteran observers have lamented how young the field is. In a 2008 article, literary editor Liliya Kalaus (founder of the Knigolub book review magazine) observed that Kazakh literature “is of interest to very few [people]…and is not subject to expert analysis, since literary criticism in Kazakhstan is in its infancy”. Her words reflect a broader concern: after independence, many of the Soviet-era structures that supported literary dialogue disappeared, and no equivalent infrastructure has fully taken their place.
Poet-editor Irina Gumyrkina echoes this frustration in more recent commentary. “Unfortunately, there is almost no literary criticism in Kazakhstan” today, she says. Aside from brief newspaper reviews, there are very few analytic pieces in mainstream media. Gumyrkina and her colleagues call for “comprehensive, analytical, and critical articles that spark discussions within the literary community”.
Writer Sagadat Ordasheva similarly notes that “there is no standard for what a modern critic should be”. In her view, few people are willing to take on the role of critic, in part because there is little funding or public demand. “If there were demand, shouldn’t at least one critic emerge?” she asks. While Ordasheva highlights several respected figures, such as Aigul Kemelbaeva and Talasbek Asemkulov, she argues that many so-called “critical” texts rely too heavily on academic jargon. Genuine critics, she insists, must “forge [their] own vocabulary and craft unique phrases” that are meaningful and accessible to readers. More than that, she believes a critic should be visionary — “one step ahead” of their time — offering not just evaluation but cultural direction.
Despite these challenges, some contemporary writers are actively trying to change the conversation. Poet and novelist Ilya Odegov (interviewed in 2024) described how he and his literary circle proactively engage critics as they promote Kazakh literature abroad. Odegov explained that he “regularly recommend[s] their [Kazakh authors’] books, nominate[s] them for prizes, [and] suggest[s] them to critics for reviews,” and he often travels and speaks at festivals “not only about my books, but about what is happening in Kazakh literature”. In other words, Odegov (who also runs a writers’ workshop) is building a grassroots “critical community” by working directly with reviewers and presenting Kazakh authors to international audiences.
New initiatives are also emerging that support the revival of criticism. Several online literary platforms now publish essays and reviews. Daktil (founded in 2019) features dedicated criticism sections. The trilingual journal Angime (Kazakh, Russian, English) and AdebiPortal both host bilingual literary reviews. The Open Literary School of Almaty (OLSA) offers seminars in literary criticism to train new voices. In addition, literary festivals and state or private prizes help stimulate critical engagement, even if sporadically.
In sum, literary criticism remains an essential part of Kazakhstan’s cultural life. Its history – from medieval wordplay and 19th-century journals to Soviet debates and post-independence renewal – shows that Kazakh thinkers have long seen value in discussing literature. Today’s critics, though few, remind us why criticism matters: it provides context and evaluation that help readers appreciate literature’s richness. Critics guide writers, inform the public, and keep alive the conversation about national identity and art. While many experts agree that much more critical work is needed, the existing critical tradition and new media give hope. As Abikeeva stated, critics are needed simply “to better understand literature”– and in Kazakhstan, that understanding connects readers to the “whole spiritual world of society” that literature expresses.
