I didn’t set out to make a “resource.”

When I started cataloguing the books by Black British authors in my collection, I didn’t think it would turn into a project.

It began simply enough: a quiet curiosity and a desire to better understand what I already owned—and what I might be missing. But after reading through a discussion on Threads, I realised something that stuck with me. While “Black” is often used as a broad, global identity in my region, that’s not necessarily the case elsewhere. The nuances in how Blackness is named, claimed, and categorised all shift depending on geography, history, and lived experience.

I also noticed that the Black British reading community doesn’t really have the kinds of curated reading lists or themed challenges that exist in other parts of the diaspora. That made me curious. How many of my many Black-authored books actually came from the UK? How many had Jamaican heritage, like me? And how well did they reflect the richness of Black experiences found here?

Although I’d taken part in reading challenges focused on other parts of the diaspora, or on diverse reading more broadly, I realised I had never really sought out Black British lists before. I simply hadn’t thought to.

As a third-generation Black British Jamaican woman, my identity has always felt fairly rooted. But as I started researching the books and the authors behind them, I quickly discovered that identifying who counts as Black British is more complicated than it first appears.

This post offers a behind-the-scenes look at what went into creating the list. It is for readers, writers, educators, librarians, booksellers, and fellow bloggers who care deeply about representation and visibility. If you are someone trying to find or document Black British books, or simply wondering where to begin, I hope this brings clarity, encouragement, and inspiration.

You can also find some of the featured titles highlighted on my Instagram, where I regularly share bookish reflections, author spotlights, and reading discoveries. The full list itself includes over 300 titles (when I last updated this post in December 2026 – probably more now!), with information such as the author’s name, book title, heritage (if publicly shared), genre, and publication year. It’s designed to help readers and researchers navigate the richness of Black British writing with care and intention.

And if you are curious about the list? I’ve made the full database available to subscribers (it’s free!):

Click here to access the full Black British Book List

Or, read on to learn more about my findings!

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• Black British Book List Access

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What Is the Black British Book List?

The list is a growing, lovingly-researched tracker of books by Black British authors from middle grade right through to adult fiction and non-fiction. The main focus is on titles published from 2020 onwards (for now), though a few earlier releases are included if they’re part of an ongoing series.

Every book listed has an ISBN, and every author included meets specific, thoughtful criteria (more on that below). The list is updated regularly and designed to be useful for readers, educators, booksellers, and bloggers alike.

It’s for anyone who wants to better understand, support, and celebrate Black British storytelling. Or maybe just find a new read!

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Why I Made It

As a third-generation Black British Caribbean woman, my own identity feels solid. I know who I am. But the deeper I went into researching this list, the more I realised that our visibility—especially in publishing—isn’t guaranteed. There isn’t a central place to find Black British authors. No obvious “Black British” shelf in bookshops. No simple search term to filter us out from broader (and often American-centric) lists.

And while “diverse books” and “Black authors” are now common buzzwords, they often centre US narratives, or they reduce our identities to just one layer of who we are. But the diaspora is bursting with different cultures, histories, and experiences. Those differences, along with the threads that connect us, deserve to be recognised and celebrated.

Still, as the saying goes, charity begins at home. And for me, that meant starting with the stories rooted right here in Britain.

I wanted a resource that not only highlights our voices but acknowledges the complexity of Black Britishness. Because it’s not always straightforward. And honestly? That’s part of the reason this list felt so necessary.

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What Counts as “Black British”?

(And Why That Question Gets Messy)

Early on, I realised I’d need some criteria. Not to exclude people, but to make the list fair, thoughtful, and useful.

So here’s how I decided who to include:

✔️ Authors who explicitly describe themselves as Black British (with or without mentioning heritage)
✔️ Authors born in the UK who identify as Black
✔️ Authors born elsewhere but are long-term residents of the UK, writing from a Black British lens
✔️ Black Mixed Race authors who identify with the UK
✔️ Authors whose bios describe them as “based in the UK” and who write about Black British themes or experiences
✔️ Anthologies or edited collections with multiple Black British contributors (marked as “various”)

But just as important is who I didn’t include—and why.

❌ I excluded authors who don’t publicly identify with Britishness in any way
❌ I left out books that had no ISBNs (for now)
❌ I didn’t include titles with multiple authors unless the Black British voice was clearly named and central

I made these decisions out of respect for how people choose to identify. Because…

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Let’s Talk About Identity and Heritage

One thing that stood out to me again and again during this process: Black British identity is nuanced, and for many of us, it’s still a work in progress.

Some authors state their heritage with pride—“British Nigerian,” “Jamaican-British,” “British Ghanaian.” Others just say they’re “from London” or “based in the UK,” without ever using the word “British.” Some omit ethnicity entirely. Some say “Black” and leave it there.

And that silence? It tells its own story.

For some, not disclosing heritage is a personal boundary. People might not feel safe doing so. They might have a complicated relationship with their heritage. They may be adopted or estranged from their roots. Some are simply private. Some of us recognise and reject the ignorance behind the ‘but where are you really from?’ question that often follows any mention of identity. And many feel—quite rightly—that being “Black British” says enough.

This is especially true for third-generation+ folks like me. When you’re born here, raised here, but also tied to a heritage you’ve never lived in, it’s not uncommon to feel less of a connection. You might not speak the language. You may not have visited the country of your ancestors before. You might even be actively rejected from the culture of your forbearers. So instead, you root yourself in what you do know. You grow into the culture we’ve built right here. And if I have any readers here who happen to be fellow South Londoners, you probably know exactly what I mean by that. And let’s not forget that there have been Black people in Britain since Roman times.

Their descendants are British too.

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What I Learned While Researching This

This wasn’t just a booklist project—it was a cultural lesson. Some things I discovered:

🖤 We’re often left out

There’s no official place to search for Black British authors. And we’re rarely separated from US authors in book lists or recommendations. This hides our contexts, our language and history—and makes it harder for readers to find us.

🖤 Identity is personal

My research involved reading a lot of author bios, and I quickly realised there’s no set standard for how identity is shared, which I don’t disagree with for reasons mentioned previously. Identity is shaped by social and cultural factors, and in some cases, it may also reflect what a publisher chooses to include depending on the context of the book. But at its core, identity is personal.

Some authors mentioned ethnicity, nationality, race, or location. Others didn’t mention identity at all. A few described themselves through their city, like “South London poet,” which carries its own kind of weight. Not everyone claimed Britishness directly. And I get it.

Some people are writers in Britain, and some people are Black British writers and both of those should be acceptable.

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🖤 Community means variety

Even within Black British identity, there’s no one experience. And therefore there is no one topic that authors write about. We have so much incredible talent and representation over here. I was blown away by all the gems that I discovered!

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How I Logged the Books

• I listed only books with ISBNs (to keep the list searchable and verifiable)
• I used the hardcover publication date unless that wasn’t available
• I included middle grade and up, so mostly books suitable from around age 9+
• Where the author was part of a co-written book, I only listed it if the Black British author was clearly named
• I used the information available freely and publicly, and I’m happy to remove or update anything if an author gets in touch

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Why This List Matters

If you’re a Black Brit reading this: you deserve to see yourself on the shelf.

If you’re diverse reader: this is one small way to widen your reading and reflect the reality of the UK today.

If you’re in the US: Black Britishness might feel unfamiliar, but it has its own history, humour, pain, and rhythm. It’s worth exploring.

And if you’re a bookseller, teacher, librarian, or book blogger: this list was made with you in mind too.

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Access the Full List

If you’d like to see all the books I’ve collected so far (and be the first to get new updates), you can check it out here (it’s free!):

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Final Thoughts

This isn’t a definitive list. It’s a living one.

It’s a starting point. A quiet way of making sure we are seen and remembered and recognised—not just during (October) Black History Month.

If you’re doing something similar, I’d love to hear how you’re approaching it. If you think you or someone else should be added, drop me a message. This space is always evolving, just like the culture it reflects.

Thanks for being here. Thanks for reading this far. And thanks for caring about stories that often go unseen.

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