Lately / A Splintering is now out!

Hello friends,

I write from the guest bedroom in my college friend’s apartment in London, where I’m currently on book tour for A Splintering. The book came out in the UK and Pakistan a month ago; it can be purchased here (UK), here (Pakistan) and here (audiobook). Last month, I was also in London for a hot minute for an interview for the BBC Book Club. Next, I was tremendously fortunate to go to Lahore for the Pakistani book launch. I always say that despite not writing for any one audience, despite eschewing any loyalty to nation when I write, all my best (and worst :) ) readers end up being other Pakistanis. Asad Rahim Khan, who moderated the Lahore launch, is one of the best readers A Splintering has gotten so far, and I’m very grateful. The video for the event is here.

The Lahore launch was part of the Indus Conclave, a gathering of writers and thinkers from around the Global South. It’s a tremendous initiative that has gained immense momentum in the past two years, as we all grapple with the complete loss of faith in so-called Western ideals, international law, and the post-WW2 world order. One of the most memorable sessions I attended was with the Malaysian writer Eddin Khoo, and something he said at the end gave me goosebumps. The talk had been about Muhammad Ali’s famous fight with Frazier in Manila, and somehow the Bandung Conference came up, and Eddin said he didn’t like the term Global South. He preferred the Third World, which had once meant the Non-Aligned World before it became more or less a slur. He said he also didn’t like multiculturalism, it was a white man’s word, too neat. People in our parts of the world aren’t multicultural. We’re bastards, who’ve collided and mixed and jumbled up against one another the way clothing does in the wash.

While at university, I spent a semester abroad in London that ended up being a pivotal time in my life—something about being a young woman, about the nature of money and class and power and beauty, was made visible to me during those wintry months in 2014, and so being back here has been overwhelming at times. My friend Aube Rey Lescure talks about the experience of revisiting certain places again and again, trying to figure out something that remains veiled behind the barest of curtains. That was me on Blackfriars Bridge two nights ago, ten minutes from my old student housing in Farringdon, looking out at the vista of St Paul’s. There was something in the view, of the church, the stark, dashing skyscrapers, of the water gleaming and terrifying below, that made me think I was so close to figuring it out, the thing I was trying to find on that bridge, the thing that was just behind the veil. Alas.

It’s lovely to be back in present circumstances, to talk about a book that I started more than 4 years ago. I firmly believe that a book, once written, no longer belongs to the writer. And so, two days ago, when a lovely, brilliant bookseller got very excited talking to me about the book and then chided himself, saying, “Look at me, explaining your book to you,” I corrected him, telling him the book now belonged more to him than to me. It has been such a gift hearing from readers about Tara, the main character, and having my own understanding of her character be corroborated, sometimes shifted, by their perceptions.

On long bus rides from one bookstore to another, I’ve been reading David Szalay’s Flesh, which is currently on the Booker shortlist. To say it’s blowing my mind is an understatement. I keep being paranoid I’ll miss my stops; I sometimes feel my heartbeat get a tad faster as I read it. It’s so rare to experience books now the way one does as a kid; utterly transportive. The clip of it, the dialogue, the way he creates whole worlds with a few sentences, is truly magical. I don’t use the word lightly. It feels like you are witnessing a miracle, because nothing else can explain how tremendous the book is. In terms of shorter reads, my friend Sarah Thankam Mathews just wrote about the agony of the modern-day job search; I read anything and everything Sarah writes, not only because she is a genius, but also a patient, painstaking writer (rare combo!) I have been listening to far too many qawalis; this one will likely show up on the cheesy Spotify roundup of annual favourites.

For folks in London, below are event details for the book tour events; I would love to see you there if you can make it. Links to register at my website here.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Dur e Aziz