PRETI TANEJA ON HER LITERARY JOURNEY AND FEMINIST EVENT AT ALCHEMY
ALTHOUGH performance plays a big part at the annual Alchemy festival, there is always a strong literary element, and inspiring event Sharper Than A Serpent’s Tooth: South Asian Feminist Writing will provide that this year.
Acclaimed writers Preti Taneja and Mona Arshi will discuss their work in a conversation led by journalist, critic and Arifa Akbar, along with exploring ideas and legacy. I caught up with British author Preti to talk about the event and her own literary journey...
What first connected you to writing?
As a child, I spent hours reading in bookshops, in libraries, at home and even in the car. It was an intense pleasure and a refuge from the rest of the world. And my mother, Meera Taneja, was a brilliant and innovative cook; her eight cookery books were published in the UK in the 1970s and 80s. So I was used to seeing a writer at work. She spent long hours in her study slaving over manuscripts until I was about seven. Eventually, she started her own food business from our kitchen.
How did you feel when you completed your first book?
When the finished copies of We That Are Young arrived, it felt like being warmed by the sun. I had this overwhelming sense of gratitude to everyone who had got me and the book to that point. It’s a privilege, and it takes generations of work to have the freedom to fulfil such dreams.
Do you have a writing process?
It always begins with snatches of ideas and lines scribbled in notebooks. When it comes to words on the page, I just go for it, to get the voice down. I usually have a setting in mind and do a lot of research on place and details as I go. I redraft a lot,, structuring chapters and every sentence. I have a bad habit of not getting up from my desk enough. I can sit there all day, eight hours. Of course 90 per cent of what comes out gets binned. But if there’s something worth saving, it’s obvious.
What key advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Listen to the world around you and be alive to how your own experiences can be drawn on for your work. Read everything, from adverts, tweets and memoirs, to novels in translation, classics and new fiction. Write and take it seriously. It takes sacrifices that you have to want to make for their own sake. Success is in doing the work and making it the best you feel it can be. Keep revising and sending it out! Trust the process.
What are your favourite themes to cover?
I worked for UK charities and then international NGOs for over a decade before I became a writer. I also now teach writing and human rights, and writing in prisons. I’ve spent time in some incredibly-challenging environments with people who have survived immense hardship and are making art, telling their own stories, creating new culture in extreme circumstances, because that’s a human imperative. Exposing social injustice and exploring the threads that connect us despite divisive, constructed hierarchies of caste, race, class and so on is at the heart of what I’m interested in.
How much are you looking forward to participating in Alchemy?
One of the lovely things about finally getting published is being asked to participate in events I’ve always enjoyed from the crowd. It’s wonderful to be programmed alongside Mona Arshi, whose poetry works language into fire.
What can we expect from the event?
Both Mona and I will read and talk about our work with journalist Arifa Akbar, so three strong, creative women in one go! We may cover themes from gender and sexuality to writing or politics; it could get intense.
Do you think things like social media are disconnecting people from books?
I actually think social media is a great way of finding out about books that you might want to read, as well as what’s being sold in chain bookshops at the front tables. Online, you can find and follow small, independent publishers who are putting out exciting and experimental work. You can find readers who like the same poets and books as you. You can also connect with books bloggers who read differently from what gets reviewed in the mainstream press, and that’s really necessary.
Do we need more strong female voices?
We have them, we are them; they have to be very strong to get into the mainstream, so the more we have, the less that will matter and the easier it will be to be heard. Critical mass is important.
What can we expect next from you?
I’m working on an idea that is going to be set in the UK, probably in the North East where I partly grew up.
What inspires you?
Fearless people, especially women, who have the courage of their convictions and take risks for what they believe in and support each other. I hope I can be like that and pass it on too.
Who is your own literary hero?
I love books that bring radical ideas to life, and writing that challenges the status quo. So Toni Morrison is one, and JM Coetzee is another. Gertrude Stein, a writer who basically broke language, Adrienne Rich and Claudia Rankine, both poets I come back to over and over. I think Mahasweta Devi and Manto are both heroic in their form and the stories they tell.
What is your own personal favourite book of all-time?
Toughest question ever! Meera Taneja’s Indian Cookery, which is dedicated to my sister and I. Each recipe comes with a short introductory story, often a vignette from our home. It’s a testimony to an early 1980s world of Asian families in Britain, celebrating Indian culture, speaking to the new country and carving a space for the future. It’s a world rarely documented outside our family albums, although that is changing. I still cook from it, and I can hear her voice in the lines.
Why do you love writing?
There’s nothing like the feeling of being inside a world immersed. While you are writing it, it’s revealing itself to you. I love working deep into the fine grain of words and all their infinite meanings.
Sharper Than A Serpent’s Tooth: South Asian Feminist Writing takes place at Purcell Room, Southbank Centre in London on May 5 2018 at 7.45pm as part of Alchemy. Tickets and further information available at www.south bankcentre.co.u
US president Donald Trump gestures next to Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu at Ben Gurion International Airport as Trump leaves Israel en route to Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt, to attend a world leaders' summit on ending the Gaza war, amid a US-brokered prisoner-hostage swap and ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas, in Lod, Israel, October 13, 2025.
‘They make a desert and call it peace’, wrote the Roman historian Tacitus. That was an early exercise, back in AD 96, of trying to walk in somebody else’s shoes. The historian was himself the son-in-law of the Roman Governor of Britain, yet he here imagined the rousing speech of a Caledonian chieftain to give voice to the opposition to that imperial conquest.
Nearly two thousand years later, US president Donald Trump this week headed to Sharm-El-Sheikh in the desert, to join the Egyptian, Turkish and Qatari mediators of the Gaza ceasefire. Twenty more world leaders, including prime minister Sir Keir Starmer and president Emmanuel Macron of France turned up too to witness this ceremonial declaration of peace in Gaza.
This ceasefire brings relief after two years of devastating pain. Tens of thousands of civilians have been killed. More of the Israeli hostages taken by Hamas are returning dead than alive. Eighty-five per cent of Gaza is rubble. Each of the twenty steps of the proposed peace plan may prove rocky. The state of Palestine has more recognition - in principle - than ever before across the international community, but it may be a long road to that taking practical form. Israel continues to oppose a Palestinian state.
The ceasefire will be welcomed in Britain for humanitarian relief and rekindling hopes of a path to a political settlement. It offers an opportunity to take stock on the fissures of the last two years on community relations here in Britain too. That was the theme of a powerful cross-faith conversation last week, convened by the Board of Deputies of British Jews, to reciprocate the expressions of solidarity received from Muslims, Christians and others after the Manchester synagogue attacks, and challenge the arson attack on a Sussex mosque.
Jewish and Muslim civic voices had convened an ‘optimistic alliance’ to keep conversations going when there seemed ever less to be optimistic about. The emerging news from Gaza was seen as a hopeful basis to deepen conversation in Britain about how tackling the causes of both antisemitism and anti-Muslim prejudice could form part of a shared commitment to cohesion.
This conflict has not seen a Brexit-style polarisation down the middle of British society. Most people’s first instinct was to avoid choosing a side in this conflict. The murderous Hamas attack on Jews on October 7, 2023 and the excesses of the Israeli assault on Gaza piled tragedy upon tragedy. The instinct to not take sides can be an expression of mutual empathy, but is not always so noble. It can reflect confusion and exhaustion with this seemingly intractable conflict. A tendency to look away and change the subject can frustrate those whose family heritage, faith solidarity or commitments to Zionism and Palestine as political ideas make them feel more closely connected.
Others have felt this conflict thrust upon them in an unwelcome way - including British Jews fed up with the antisemitic idea that they can be held responsible at school, university or work for what the government of Israel is doing. Protesters for Palestine perceive double standards in arguments about free speech - as do those with contrasting views. The proper boundaries between legitimate political protest and prejudice are sharply contested.
Hamit Coksun is an asylum seeker who speaks somewhat broken English. He would seem an unusual ally for Robert Jenrick. Yet the shadow justice secretary went to court to offer solidarity, after Coskun had burned a Qu’ran outside the Turkish Embassy, while shouting “F__ Islam” and “Islam is the religion of terrorism”. He had been fined £250, but the appeal court overturned his conviction. The judgment was context-specific: this specific incendiary protest took place outside an embassy, not a place of worship, in an empty street, and did not direct the comments at anybody in particular.
The law does not protect faiths from criticism, and indeed offers some protection for intolerant and prejudiced political speech too, though the police can place conditions on protest to protect people from abuse, intimidation or harassment on the basis of their faith.
So it can be legal to performatively burn books - holy or otherwise - though this verdict makes clear it does not offer a green light to do so in every context.
But how far should we celebrate those who choose to burn books? Cosun advocates banning the Qu’ran, making him a flawed champion of free speech. Jenrick is legitimately concerned to show that there are no laws against blasphemy in Britain, but could anybody imagine that he would turn up in person to show solidarity to a man burning the Bible, Bhagvad Gita or Torah, shouting profanities to declaring religion of war or genocide? The court’s defence of the right to shock, offend and provoke is correct in law. Those are hardly the only conversations that a shared society needs.
Sunder Katwalawww.easterneye.biz
Sunder Katwala is the director of thinktank British Future and the author of the book How to Be a Patriot: The must-read book on British national identity and immigration.
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