It began as a 1,200-words essay, sort of a frequently asked questions (FAQ) explainer of being in an open marriage, before culminating in a bidding war involving multiple major publishing houses.
Her new book 'Ask Me How It Works'Instagram/ storiesbydeepa
Deepa Paul’s Ask Me How It Works does what it says on the tin. It’s her story of being in a committed marriage with her husband of 17 years, while the couple also date other people, with each other’s knowledge.
However, seven or eight years ago, no one was interested in publishing it, said Paul. When a writing coach suggested it was more than an essay, she wrote the draft and that led to a publishing deal.
“It’s basically almost unchanged from where I began. There was no grand vision. It was – what have I experienced, what have I learned from it, and what can I share?” Paul said.
She recalled a writing habit “to process my own experiences and to understand what’s going on in my life”.
Paul added, “Initially I started writing mainly for myself. There was a point at which I was receiving so many questions from men who I was open with on dating apps, and I remember thinking as a joke, almost like, ‘What if I could just send them something that would make my life easier.’”
“In the beginning it was called Ask Me How It Works:frequently asked questions about my open marriage. And this essay just got longer and longer.”
Paul, a half-Indian, half-Filipina writer, lives with her husband, Marcus, in Amsterdam, having moved there from Manila, where they both grew up. The couple have a young daughter, and Paul also has a boyfriend of five years in the city.
She was polyamorous at the time of writing the book, but said she is currently not dating anyone else.
Each chapter in her book dwells on the many questions raised by Paul’s curious dates – from how it started to the rules the couple follow, feelings, love and therapy.
“It’s always been about self discovery,” Paul said. “My preferred method of growth is to put myself in new situations and see how I adapt.
“It sounds very chaotic and maybe stressful for a lot of people, but I value adaptability and flexibility and being able to find out about myself through the mirror of relationships.
“I believe that an encounter with somebody – whether it’s for one night or for months or years or a lifetime – can mirror back to you things about yourself that you’ve never saw before.”
Paul was raised in the Philippines (the country is predominantly Catholic and divorce is banned), but when she moved to the Netherlands, realised there were opportunities to explore relationships outside her marriage. Over the course of more than a dozen chapters, she charts her journey as she and her husband seek encounters outside their marriage. Both are certain, however, that they want to be in the marriage and are committed to raising a family together.
Paul explained how her idea of marriage has transformed over time.
“What I learned from my parents, seeing their picture of love and commitment, was that we would build a life together, that we had shared goals and we would achieve them together,” she said.
“A family was definitely part of it. It felt like a big adventure we could go on together. Me moving to Singapore to be with him, (it) felt like I was giving a lot, but it also felt adventurous. Then moving to Amsterdam was another adventure. I saw marriage as a series of adventures for which I had found a partner.
“Now, I would say that’s changed in the sense that there’s much less ‘adventuring’. It’s more realistic that we are building a life together. We have shared goals, and those evolve over time.
“But now I believe our commitment is much more fluid and flexible, because it accommodates the versions of ourselves we can become as life changes. Motherhood was a big change, migration was a massive change, cancer was a huge change (Paul was diagnosed last year, underwent treatment and is now cancer-free).
“So, now we get to check in with each other and say, ‘okay, what does commitment look like for us, for the people we are now? It’s a lot more familiar, but it’s also flexible.”
Life in Amsterdam could not be more in contrast to Manila. In fact, in one of the final chapters, Paul explains what the book is about to her pre-teen daughter and waits tentatively for her response.
Her reaction? Paul and Marcus are not the only ones in their daughter’s class to have an open marriage.
“Welcome to Amsterdam!” she writes. “If I stayed in Manila, I don’t think I would have ever realised that non-monogamy is an option. I came to Amsterdam and I was almost shocked at how accepted it is – that it is an option available for us as a relationship style.”
Paul explores the many facets of relationships – established, committed or casual – as she and Marcus ‘open up’ their marriage. Having dating rules, establishing boundaries, testing them, adapting, building trust, maintaining faith in each other, therapy, co-parenting, pursuing careers and Covid lockdowns – Ask Me How It Works answers all the questions readers could possibly be curious about.
She said the effort was worth it. “I find working on relationships fulfilling. I think I’m a relationship nerd. I love talking about attachment styles and I believe the greatest fulfilment I derive from life is from relationships. It’s not from possessions or experiences. I love figuring out relationships – how somebody wants to be loved, what makes them feel special, feel safe.
“And then, when I realised I can also give that to them, I found myself expanding. I thought, ‘Oh, I didn’t think I could love this way, I didn’t think I could care for someone in this specific manner.’ And, somehow, I managed to keep track of all of them.”
Paul added, “I’m also very into the idea of experiencing pleasure in different ways, and I learned so much about my desires, but also my body. I have a really good relationship with my body – through the mirror of other people, and I do love that I have an identity.
“I’m encouraged and allowed to build an identity for myself that doesn’t revolve around being a wife and a mother. I can be 100 per cent a good wife and mother, but also be 100 per cent myself.
“And it’s not a trade-off. So, for me, that’s worth the extra effort, of what people think is so tiring.”
Although Paul is not dating anyone else apart from her boyfriend, she has seen a shift in the approach to monogamous and non-monogamous relationships, saying that while the latter are more accepted now, it’s not yet mainstream.
She has also observed how women in some conservative societies feel about desire. “In terms of attraction and desire, we’re taught that it’s a very destructive force, but it is also a force of great power – it can make people look and feel and come alive and be really present in their senses,” Paul said.
“I take a lot of inspiration, for example, from Audre Lorde’s essay The uses of erotic where she says, ‘once you’ve tapped into something that really gives you joy and aliveness, it’s like you can’t turn it off.’ It feeds so much into our lives and women are sort of stopped from doing that.”
She added, “But then, when we are at our most fully expressed and alive and just enjoying the deliciousness of life, who immediately benefits? Family and society, as well.”
Paul revealed she considered writing the book under a pseudonym.
However, she said, “If I cannot stand by my choices, my ups and my downs and my mistakes, and I can’t put my name and my face on it, then shame still has power over me.
“For me, it’s a powerful exercise to say, ‘Yeah, I did all of this and I made these mistakes, I cleaned them up, and I somehow turned them into a life that I love, with all the people I love along with me for the ride.
“If I had kept hiding that, I would not really have been freed,” she said.
“Regardless of whether you are monogamous or non-monogamous, people are messy.
“Life is unpredictable, emotions are messy. So we just do the best we can with the tools we have.”
Ask Me How It Works: Love in an Open Marriage by Deepa Paul, published by Viking, is out now
With the release of Pia’s Pet Club: Puppy Problem on 8 May, award-winning author Serena Patel brings young readers a heartwarming new series that combines humour, friendship, and cultural representation. Known for her Anisha, Accidental Detective books, Patel spoke to us about her inspiration, the writing process, and why visibility in children's literature matters.
From PowerPoint slides to pet chaos
The origins of Pia’s Pet Club are rooted in a familiar family negotiation. Patel recalls, “My son was trying to persuade us to get a bigger pet. He made PowerPoint slides, showed us TV programmes, did all his research. Eventually we gave in—and now we have two ragdoll cats.”
That experience inspired Pia, a young girl desperate for a pet of her own. When her parents say no, Pia sets out to prove she’s responsible by helping her friend Hari train his unruly puppy, Luna. Predictably, chaos follows—and so does the idea of forming a pet club.
One of Patel’s favourite scenes to write involved a spectacularly failed attempt to train Luna. “It was really fun to write. The kids think it’ll be easy, but the dog has other ideas,” she laughs.
A heroine with heart and flaws
Pia is Patel’s latest strong-willed lead character. “She doesn’t always get it right, but she’s trying her best,” she says. “She’s flawed and real, just like any child.”
Patel, who grew up in a South Asian household, shares that she never saw herself in books as a child. “I never came across South Asian characters in funny stories. Seeing yourself in a book gives you a sense of belonging—it’s validating,” she explains. Pia’s cultural background is woven naturally into the narrative, from home-cooked meals to family dynamics and familiar words.
A visual world, brought to life
The illustrations in Pia’s Pet Club are by Emma McCann, who has worked with Patel for several years. “Emma’s brilliant. It’s like she has a camera inside my brain,” Patel says. “She adds humour and detail that isn’t even in the text. It’s a real collaboration.”
Set in the communal garden of an apartment block, the book explores the power of community, teamwork, and belonging. Patel describes it as a departure from the mystery genre that defined her previous work. “This one feels more like a warm sitcom—funny, but full of heart.”
The first book took nearly three years to develop, from idea to finished manuscript. “There were moments I doubted myself, but I wanted to make it the best it could be,” she admits.
What's next for Pia?
The series is already expanding. The second book, The Secret Kitten, is due in January 2026, and the third, Guinea Pig Showtime, will follow in July 2026. Readers can expect more mishaps and humour as Pia and her friends take on new pet-related challenges, including a pet talent show.
From page to screen?
With Anisha, Accidental Detective in development for television by BBC Studios Kids & Family—featuring Emmy-winning actress Archie Panjabi as executive producer—it’s no surprise that Patel has considered a screen future for Pia as well.
“It’s the dream,” she says. “The setting, the characters, the themes—they’d all work brilliantly on screen.”
Ahead of the launch, Patel is preparing for a number of school visits and events. “It’s a new series. You never know how it’ll be received,” she says. “But the early feedback has been great.”
For readers young and old, Pia’s Pet Club offers a story of determination, friendship, and cultural pride. “Books are powerful. They stay with us,” Patel says. “And if Pia makes just one child feel seen or brings a smile to their face, then I’ve done my job.”
Philip Pullman has announced that The Rose Field, the sixth and final novel centred around Lyra Silvertongue, will be published on 23 October. The book concludes the saga that began with Northern Lights, the first in his award-winning His Dark Materials trilogy, and continued in The Book of Dust series.
The upcoming release will follow Lyra’s story into her early twenties. She was introduced to readers as an 11-year-old in Northern Lights in 1995, a novel that went on to become a global bestseller.
Speaking to BBC Radio 4’s The World At One, Pullman, 78, said he felt “relieved” to have completed the book. “I’ve come out of the end alive and able to see it being made into a book and published,” he said.
The title, The Rose Field, refers to a concept introduced in the early chapters of Northern Lights, where scholars at Lyra’s Oxford college discuss Dust—a mysterious substance tied to human consciousness. Pullman explained that the final instalment would see Lyra on the brink of uncovering the true nature of Dust.
“In this final book, Lyra is on the verge of discovering what Dust is and what it means, and the story is about how that happens,” Pullman said. He also noted that the narrative explores the nature of imagination. “I’ve got a view of what the imagination is, and Lyra discovers what she thinks the imagination is, so we’re talking about that as well.”
While grounded in the fantasy world of Dust and daemons, The Rose Field is also influenced by real-world issues. Pullman said the rise of tech billionaires and the growing influence of powerful industries had shaped his thinking over the last decade.
“It has become clear to me in the last 10 years that the influence of money and the power of the billionaire class, the power of the tech industry and all those extractive things like oil and gas and so on, have a much deeper effect on the world than I had thought,” he said.
Reflecting on wider geopolitical shifts, Pullman added, “The world has changed enormously. We’re either at the end of a long period of American power, which will end, presumably, like the end of any empire, in chaos, destructiveness, and then the gradual coming together of nations in a new form. That’ll be interesting to watch, if I’m still alive to watch it.”
He also remarked on the abundance of historical knowledge now available through digital means. “We’re at an age where we’ve got the wisdom of centuries and millennia to draw on. It’ll be interesting to see if we do or we don’t. I suspect that most of us won’t, but some of us might.”
The Rose Field arrives six years after the publication of The Secret Commonwealth, the second book in The Book of Dust trilogy. According to publisher Midas, the first two titles in the trilogy have sold 49 million copies globally.
With the series drawing to a close, Pullman has revealed that his next focus may be a memoir, provisionally titled Before I Forget.
“I’ve been talking for quite a while about writing a memoir before I forget everything, and that’s something that’s possibly on the horizon,” he said.
Reflecting on his upbringing, he noted, “I was born in 1946. I was brought up as a child of the British Empire, which still existed then. And I’ve seen a very great number of changes, as everyone of my age has.”
He said he hoped to record and celebrate the experiences that had shaped him. “There’s nothing remarkable about that, but I’ve seen a lot of things that I loved, enjoyed, made me happy, made me excited in various ways. And I’d like to remember those and write them down, because I think it’s a shame if they’re not celebrated and remembered.”
WILL Neil Basu’s memoirs, Turmoil: 30 Years of Policing, Politics and Prejudice, make a movie – something along the lines of In the Heat of the Night starring Sidney Poitier as the black detective ‘Mr’ Virgil Tibbs, who is much cleverer than the racist white police chief, Bill Gillespie, played by Rod Steiger?
After all, Basu rose to be the most senior non-white officer in the Metropolitan Police, and indeed in the country.
There isn’t one but multiple stories in his book, which is dedicated to his children, James, Tom and Joshua.
His CV says he “served for 30 years in the Metropolitan Police, rising from police constable and beat bobby to assistant commissioner at New Scotland Yard and the UK head of counter-terrorism policing.
“He was a detective with a distinguished career as a senior investigating officer of anti-corruption, homicide, serious and organised crime, and kidnap. He was later the chief superintendent of Barnet Northwest London, and a commander of Southeast London, armed policing and gangs and organised crime.
“He was also responsible for investigating Rupert Murdoch’s media empire for phone hacking and public sector corruption before being promoted into counterterrorism policing.
“He was commended multiple times during his career for bravery, leadership and detective ability, and was awarded the Queen’s Police Medal for distinguished service in 2016.”
According to Basu, the Met was and still remains “institutionally racist”. What makes it worse is that its senior officers, including Sir Mark Rowley, the current commissioner, remain in denial.
Basu counts Rowley as a friend and says “he’s one of the brightest people I know, a Cambridge graduate with a degree in maths”. But it is a matter of regret for him that Rowley “replaced ‘institutional’ with words like systemic, managerial and cultural”.
He attended a memorial service to mark the 30th anniversary of the death of Stephen Lawrence, a black 18-year-old who was knifed to death by a feral gang of white youths.
“Many of those present – me, the Lawrence family and plenty of others there to celebrate Stephen’s life – knew that Mark, charged with changing the current face of policing, refused to fully accept the problem and so stood no chance of fixing it.”
Basu observes: “I found the Met wasn’t recruiting enough non-white officers to represent the communities it policed. Those we did recruit were less likely to be promoted and more likely to resign. The non-white officers also had less chance of promotion, more chance of being subject to misconduct, and were also more likely to have their grievances ignored.”
After a spate of terror attacks in Paris in 2022, “we started to recruit armed officers at great speed. It would be an uphill battle to recruit sufficient women and ethnic minorities, though.
His memoir
“Firearms is a particularly white, male section of the police. Firearms officers themselves admit to a lack of diversity in their specialism, and unfortunately, those in charge of training firearms officers often perpetuate that alpha white male dominance.
“In 2023, Baroness Casey would shine a light on this aspect of the Met, highlighting a toxic and discriminatory culture. Her report would suggest firearms officers ‘further embed’ that culture, selecting officers in their own ‘image, while keeping out those whose faces don’t fit their ideal of a firearms officer’.
“The lack of diversity meant that in investigations, we had precious few brown Muslim officers with the deep cultural and religious knowledge to help us identify the real threats and get communities on board – communities who were terrified.”
He points out: “When I joined (in 1993), we were less than two per cent of colour in a force policing a city that was 22 per cent ethnic. In 2024, the Met has 17 per cent black and brown officers, which looks like progress – until you realise London is over 46 per cent [ethnic].
“And at present recruitment rates, it would take decades for the Met to look like the city it serves.”
Eastern Eye readers will perhaps be drawn to the personal side of Basu’s story – and his confessions. “I had come within touching distance of commissioner – the top police job in the Met and the UK – but it had all been at huge cost. Two divorces, three marriages, three children, near financial ruin and an asthma diagnosis. Thousands of hours of trauma, facing terror attacks, murders, kidnaps, extortion, rape and sudden violent death, had taken their toll and changed the very fabric of me.”
Basu is the son of a Bengali doctor from Calcutta (now Kolkata) and a Welsh mother, Enid Roberts. “I’m mixed race, half Indian and half white Welsh,” he says. “I don’t feel at home in rooms full of Indians. I don’t feel at home in rooms full of white people.
“I know what it feels to be different, because I am different, everywhere.”
Despite the frustrations of having to deal with politicians such as Boris Johnson, Priti Patel and Suella Braverman (“selfhating Asian”) and his bitter disappointment at being denied not only the job of commissioner but also the post of director general of the National Crime Agency, policing has been very much in Basu’s DNA.
His parents Dr Pankaj and Enid Basu
“The commissioner’s job and policing has become impossible, not because of its scale and complexity, but because of politics, the press and prejudices – its own prejudice that brings it low and the prejudice it brings out in others about them.”
At the end of the book, he reveals: “My name is not Neil, because that’s the anglicised name white people gave me, and I hid behind. My real name is Anil Kanti Basu. I never knew whether I was black, brown or white, but I always knew I was definitely blue.”
One of the most moving sections in the book deals with the death of his father, who had worked as a police surgeon and given decades of service to the NHS.
“In January 2015, my world was rocked in a way I couldn’t comprehend,” writes Basu. “My father, Dr Pankaj Kumar Basu, passed away and part of me died with him. I was with him when he died and it wasn’t peaceful. It remains the worst day of my life.
“He had retired in 2010, aged 76, always saying medicine was his life, always putting his patients first; but his role as a police surgeon was the very last gig he gave up – I think because he loved telling Staffordshire police he had a son who was one of them.
Dr Basu as a grandfather
“Gandhi, as I would affectionately call him, dedicated his life to saving others and he was my hero. In the 1960s, he would see and hear National Front [NF] marches and await the inevitable call to patch people up who hated him simply for the colour of his skin.
“Despite the chanting of ‘P***s go home’ and ‘there ain’t no black in the Union Jack’ – which I would come to know and fear – my mother told me he was called out to a stabbed NF member during a march who refused treatment from him.
“‘No P*** is touching me.’
“‘I can touch you and stop the bleeding, or you can die.’
“He then saved the life of a man who would have happily taken his. His abject refusal to see colour or retaliate against the sting of racism is something I’ve always tried to emulate.”
TRANSLATION and writing are similar as both involve interpreting and expressing something that already exists, the English translator of Heart Lamp, shortlisted for the International Booker Prize, said.
A collection of short stories by Banu Mushtaq, a Karnataka-based writer, activist and lawyer, the book was translated from Kannada to English by Deepa Bhasthi. It captures the daily lives of women and girls in Muslim communities in southern India through 12 tales written between 1990 and 2023.
Heart Lamp’s selection on the shortlist for the International Booker Prize 2025 was announced in London last Tuesday (8).
“When you’re translating a work, you’re translating something that already exists. And when you’re writing something new, you’re also translating – an experience, a thought, or an event. It’s about using the tool of language in whatever ways are available,” Bhasthi told Eastern Eye.
Kannada is the language spoken in the south Indian state of Karnataka, of which Bengaluru is the capital.
It is the first time a Kannada title has made it to the shortlist of the International Booker Prize.
Bhasthi, 41, who studied journalism at university, said, “Kannada is my mother tongue, so it’s not a difficult language for me. But translation brings its own challenges. It’s not simply about substituting one word for another. It’s about carrying an entire culture across and making it live in another.”
She recalled how she got involved in the book, saying, “Banu approached me around three years ago. At the time, I hadn’t read much of her work – just a couple of stories here and there – but not in any depth.
“When I finally read them, I found them incredibly compelling, deeply relevant, and strikingly universal in their themes. I knew this was something I wanted to take on, simply because I genuinely enjoyed the stories. That, for me, is one of the key criteria when choosing a translation project. I connected with these stories and felt a desire to share them with a wider audience.”
Bhasthi added, “Generations of women around the world have always resisted the violence of patriarchy and religious fanaticism. But what’s remarkable is that they’ve done so while holding on to their sense of humour, their resilience, and their spirit of dissent.
“Heart Lamp is a collection that pays tribute to such women. It celebrates those who, despite being bound by the weight of patriarchal and religious expectations, continue to live fully – resilient, strong, and wonderfully funny lives. It’s a celebration of women like that.”
Bhasthi added, “I was very clear from the beginning that I had complete freedom – both in choosing which stories I wanted to translate and in how I translated them. Of course, Banu was available if I needed to ask questions or clarify something about the text. But, otherwise, the translation is entirely my own independent work.”
Bhasthi said she chose Heart Lamp because very few books by female Kannada writers have been translated into English.
“I’m drawn to women’s writing, partly because translation itself is an under-represented field, and very few works from Kannada are translated into English, to begin with. Among those, the number of women writers who get translated is even smaller – whether in Kannada or in other languages,” she told Eastern Eye from her home in Madikeri, a scenic hill town in Karnataka.
“I find myself gravitating towards women’s writing, as it often resonates more closely with my own experiences. Even though Banu’s stories are rooted in a particular social context and within a specific community, their themes are remarkably universal.
“These are women’s experiences that echo around the world – not just in India, or south India, or within the Muslim community. That universality in her storytelling is what captivated me from the outset.”
Bhasthi is optimistic that the Booker nomination would generate interest from international publishers, not only for works in Kannada but also for other Indian reg i o n a l languages. For her, the moment carries a deeper sense of pride.
“Many people in the UK and US don’t even know how to pronounce ‘Kannada’. They have no awareness this language even exists – despite it being spoken by millions around the world. It’s one of the oldest languages in the Dravidian family, with a long and rich literary history.”
She believes translation plays a vital role in changing this narrative. “It takes these lesser known languages out into the world and says ‘Hey, look at this culture. There’s so much happening here.’”
Bhasthi hoped the spotlight on Heart Lamp will bring attention not only to Kannada, but also other languages in India.
“When people think of India, they usually think of Hindi or Urdu, maybe Bengali or Tamil. But we have more than 700 languages. That needs to change,” she said.
Interestingly, she pointed out that many Kannada speakers cannot read or write the language. “They’re happy to find something in English. They speak Kannada, but if they studied in English-medium schools or grew up in cities, or abroad, they often don’t use Kannada daily.
“So I don’t just translate for nonKannadigas. I translate for people from my own language community too,” Bhasthi said.
For her, this linguistic gap is not a limitation, it is an opportunity.
“I’m glad translation as a field is getting so much attention these days. It’s a good thing. Not just in Kannada, there are incredible stories in all our Indian and south Asian languages. That richness needs to be shared.”
She is an avid reader of translated literature herself. “Some of the best writing I’ve read recently has been in translation. The only reason I can access those stories is because someone translated them. It opens up the world.”
Asked if the Booker nomination would enhance the appeal of non-English and non-fiction work, she said, “I hope so. It reminds people just how many languages exist globally. Europeans might know French, German, Spanish, and so on, but how many of them have accessed writing from the global south?”
She extended the question to Indian readers as well. “Even among ourselves, how many of us have access to literature from neighbouring states, if not for translation? The cultural wealth that translation brings is incredible.”
Her advice to aspiring young writers and translators was to “read widely, because this is something many people overlook. They want to pursue writing or translation, but often don’t read enough. I would also advise reading across genres. There’s a common perception that popular fiction isn’t particularly valuable, but in reality, when you read, you’re learning language. So, I would say, read as broadly and extensively as you can.”
Published by Penguin Random House India, Heart Lamp is one of six titles to make it to the prestigious list. Each shortlisted title will receive £5,000, shared between the author and translator. The winner will be announced on May 20 at a ceremony set to be held at the Tate Modern in London.
NOTEWORTHY among the dazzling new crop of Asian crime writers is Ram Murali, who has come up with Death in the Air, a remarkably clever murder mystery (where it’s difficult to guess the identity of the killer).
Among crime writers, Abir Mukherjee and Vaseem Khan are now established names. In fact, the latter was elected chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association in 2023.
This year has belonged to AA Dhand, one of whose crime novels set in Bradford has been turned into a six-part TV series, Virdee, by the BBC. Another author showing promise is Atima Srivastava.
Murali’s novel is set in Samsara, a world-class hotel spa in Rishikesh in the Himalayas.
His central character is Ro Krishna, whose family come from Tamil Nadu. He has easy charm and an Oxford education behind him, but he has come to Samsara to decide what to do next in life, since he was forced out of his last job by a woman described as a “latrine with a face”.
There are other characters – Indian, American and British– who gather at Samsara, which is owned by a Mrs Banerjee. The resident yoga teacher is Fairuza. Sanjay Mehta is a not very nice Indian politician. Ro appears destined to have an affair with a ravishing Bengali beauty, Amrita Dey, who has turquoise-coloured eyes. But, alas, she turns out to be the first murder victim. Ro becomes a sort of assistant to an Inspector Singh, who takes charge of the investigation.
There is a feel of an Agatha Christie thriller about Death in the Air. In fact, her 1935 novel, Death in the Clouds, about murder on an aeroplane, had been published originally as Death in the Air.
It turns out Murali is a devotee of the “Queen of Crime” and has scattered Christie references and clues through his novel as though he was organising a treasure hunt for the reader.
He told Eastern Eye: “I’ve probably read every Agatha Christie book five times, and I probably read them all three times by the age of 15. She’s like a deity to me. She’s the best-selling fiction writer ever in the English language, but I don’t think she gets enough credit for the quality of her writing. She was a huge influence on me as I was writing the book. It’s filled with secret Agatha Christie jokes.”
Murali said he loves Conan Doyle as well – “one of my first memories is my father reading me The Hound of the Baskervilles”.
His favourite authors also include John Buchan and Somerset Maugham, as well as the writer Hector Hugh Munro, who was better known as Saki.
But if he were ever on Desert Island Discs, “I would say that I’m not taking Shakespeare, but the classic works of Agatha Christie instead. I can read Agatha Christie over and over and over again. I probably read at least some Agatha Christie every week.”
He does not consider himself to be a professional writer and reveals Death in the Air came about almost by accident. “I never wanted to be a writer, at all. I never wrote a word of fiction until I wrote this book. It was not a dream of mine. But I have always been a reader. I probably read almost a book a day.
“Just before the pandemic, in Christmas 2019 I had left my last job and was taking time to figure out what to do next. I ended up at a hotel called Ananda in Rishikesh, just like Samsara. And while I was there, I kept thinking, well, this would be such a great place for an Agatha Christie-style murder mystery, but I’d never written in my life.
Agatha Christie
“For the first time in my life, I started taking random notes. And actually, almost all the characters in the book are based on people I saw there.” When he imagined the character of the yoga teacher Fairuza, the plot fell into place. In the summer of 2021, he rented a cottage in Scotland. His 100-page outline became the manuscript. He found an agent the following April and the book “sold to HarperCollins in the US a year and a week after I started writing. I was very lucky. It has been published by Atlantic in the UK and Penguin in India”.
He has his own ideas about how a murder mystery should end. “To be honest, I think a lot of crime writers want everything sort of tied up at the end and feel like there was justice.
But I don’t know. I think one of the points of my book was there’s more than one kind of justice.” He said the story of Ro Krishna, “is very similar to mine. My family’s from Tamil Nadu. My parents came to the UK to study. They are both doctors who lived in Scotland for a very long time. My sister was born in Scotland. Then my father went to New York for a fellowship, and I was born there (in 1978). They never left. I grew up in New York.”
His parents now live in California, but London has been Murali’s home for the past seven years. Prior to that, he lived in Paris for 15 years. He first attended Dartmouth College, an Ivy league institution in New Hampshire in the US. He said: “I then did a master’s at the LSE in London, then went to Law School in Columbia. Then I did a LLM in commercial law at Queens’ College, Cambridge (where he got a First).”
As a lawyer in private practice in London and Paris, his CV says he worked for many years across all aspects of film and TV development, production and distribution.
Death in the Air is written in a deceptively simple style, but that disguises its depth and subtleties. He said: “I wanted the book to be very accessible. I wanted this to be a book that an 11-year-old could read, but then maybe read it again when they are 25 and find it completely different.“There’s not a single obscenity in the book, which was one of the first choices I made as I started writing it, because the book is dedicated to my grandmother. And it’s a love letter to Agatha Christie, so I wanted it to be a book that the two of them could have read and not found distasteful. The book was going to be very chaste, because also I was always thinking about India. I wanted it to be a book that Indian people could appreciate. I wanted it to be a book that my parents could read and send to their friends.”
Murali added: “Maybe my biggest motivation in writing the book was to make India look glamorous and desirable and alluring as a place. My father always says that the west is obsessed with making India look dirty and poor and filthy. I wanted to write something very different.
“Really, for me, the core of the book was I wanted to tell the story of reconnecting to your ancestors, and talk about the cost of immigration and being uprooted from your past and from your ancestors and where they lived.
“Every person in the last 1,000 years of my family on both sides probably was born within the same 500-square-mile part of India. And so what does that mean when you’re the first person not to have been born there?
“That territory has obviously been covered in books like TheNamesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. But I wanted to write that in an entertaining way. I wrote a murder mystery because I wanted to make it fun. But those were the themes I really wanted to explore.”
Death in the Air by Ram Murali has been published by Atlantic Books. £16.99