THE literary world's hot topic for a few years already has been 'diversity', and it's more relevant than ever in 2015 in the face of continuing incidents of police brutality against the black community in the United States, and now, increasing Islamophobia in Europe following the Paris attacks.

The year 2015 has seen an uptick in commentary from writers of colour - black, South Asian, Asian - on how the mainstream literary community can sometimes function to sideline and even co-opt their voices. Earlier this year, when poet Michael Derrick Hudson admitted to using Asian pen name Yi-Fen-Chou to get published more frequently, Jenny Zhang astutely noted how "white people have always slipped in and out of the experiences of people of colour and been praised extravagantly for it ... your pain is unexceptional and does not matter until a white man feels it too."

It's refreshing to see the beginnings of an honest conversation about race and diversity in publishing, and it's important to note also that some of 2015's biggest books were written by writers of colour, most notable among them Marlon James' A Brief History of Seven Killings (Riverhead), which won the Man Booker Prize (published late in 2014, this win alone necessitates mention here). However, these 'big' books have something in common other than simply being exceptionally inventive or elegantly written: they're described as being 'ambitious' and are rewarded, in part, for their audacity. Seven Killings, for example, is lauded for its breadth - it spans decades and continents in its attempt to reimage the events surrounding a near-fatal attack on Bob Marley in 1976. It's not a stretch to say that another standout book, Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life (Doubleday), received extra attention because an Asian author (and female, no less) dared to depict so fully the lives of a group of successful male friends in New York City - the traditional territory of the white male writer, of course.

I was fascinated by A Brief History of Seven Killings and I loved A Little Life too. But increasing interest in these 'ambitious' novels can be a double-edged sword for a writer of colour, who may feel dissuaded from crafting work that's quietly competent and devoid of cheeky, on-trend jabs at the literary establishment. Shouldn't it be enough that a novel from a writer of colour is just, well, good? Yes, it should. But it isn't yet.

Quite apart from this conversation, 2015 has been a great year for books and there isn't nearly enough space here to mention all the winners. If we're talking memoir and non-fiction, Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (Spiegel & Grau) is a revelation - a brutally honest and poignant reflection on what it means to be a black man in today's America. Aziz Ansari's Modern Romance (Penguin Press) is a triumph for aspiring South Asian comedians everywhere, and it's a funny, touching look at love to boot. Spinster by Kate Bolick (Crown) is basically the creative woman's handbook; stash it by your bed. In fiction, must-reads include City on Fire (Knopf) by Garth Risk Hallberg (especially if you're an aspiring writer/MFA student - take notes). Once you're done with that and need to re-set with less daunting fare, try Julia Pierpont's Among the Ten Thousand Things (Random House). Ditto the next best thriller after Girl on the Train - Descent, by Tim Johnston (Algonquin Books), about a girl gone missing and her devoted father's search.

And if you want to look at something completely different, check out this year's celebrity authors. I'm thinking more along the lines of Patti Smith's M Train (Knopf) than Kim Kardashian's Selfish (Universe) - but who knows, maybe Caitlyn Jenner's any-minute-now memoir will redeem the Kardashian clan?