A HAUNTING, NECESSARY CONVERSATION -- interview in Cafe Dissensus

A joy to be in conversation with writer Pooja Pande, who somehow manages to put each one of my books in its specific and global context. In her words, 'Besides being an accomplished literary masterpiece, The Miraculous True History Nomi Ali is also an important book for our times in the context of migration and hate politics, as we shape our history, catastrophically failing at all the big questions of race, identity, and the wielding of power. To top it all, what makes Nomi supremely special is that, as readers, we get to witness a shining depiction of a masterful, empathetic writer at her creative peak.'  

EXCERPTS FROM THE INTERVIEW:

Pooja Pande (PP): This novel I find to be your most history-conscious one to date; your sense of history and history-making, with particular emphasis on who gets to record and hence define it. (It) will likely find a place in the literature of the subcontinent's history, as a record itself. Could you speak about how you view your role as a writer here, of and for these times?

Uzma Aslam Khan (UAK): I don't know how I saw my role. I think there were a multitude of impulses I could not have identified--rebellion against my own ignorance and the notion that the history I was given is the only one there is. I think I always rejected that notion, long before I read about the (Andaman Island) prisoner paradise. I have a healthy dose of skepticism.

At some point, I did realize that no other fiction on the islands during the 1930s and 40s had been written before, at least, to my knowledge, in English. If my novel comes to be a kind of record itself, I am honored.

PP: Memory has a multi-layered resonance in this novel and its making. The story also explores how space has memory too--the land, the water, the sky. What do you feel about this lingering presence of memory in the novel, especially since the story itself has been with you through 26 years?

UAK: Yes, 26 years. That is more than half my life, so you could say that I grew up writing this book. During those years, I moved across North America, North Africa, South Asia, and Oceania. Among the few constants was the prisoner in my book. Of course, I didn't consciously know it. I simply moved, and moved her. She was physically transported, physically severed from home, but memory followed, and kept expanding.

In my book Thinner Than Skin, a character says, 'Everything alive is in movement and everything that moves is alive.' I wonder if this is my prayer for all those who are displaced. To keep finding life, no matter how hard a severance may be. Often, this requires careful navigation of memory.

PP: While your previous novels have all featured female voices prominently, this novel strengthens and enhances these further ... At the same time, there is a disruption of even that reading. Could you share with us the birth and shaping of these characters? Also, who was the most difficult to let go of?

UAK: Each character had its own genesis. As noted, the prisoner was the first one I wrote. Though her story arc took so long to complete, as a character, she didn't change much, she was always who she was. In contrast, Shakuntala is completely different now. During the war, she became someone I did not foresee but grew to very much respect. The Japanese characters came to me fully formed. Perhaps I drew from some lingering memory of my time in Tokyo, where I lived as a child ... When I found Nomi, the book found its momentum. She and the prisoner were a kind of dual compass. The prisoner started the journey to the book. Nomi completed it. Both were hard to let go of. But many others were too, for instance, Haider Ali (Nomi's father). He tugged, and still does.

PP: The stories of brutal state-sponsored clampdowns ... are, needless to say, feeling quite chillingly close to the bone these days. What were the resonances for you as the creator of this novel, as a global citizen?

UAK: Unfortunately, very many. I scratched the first lines soon after the 1991 Gulf War, and the wars, of course, never stopped. After 9/11, the topic of a distant territory used by an imperial power to incarcerate and torture 'terrorists' became eerily close, with the parallels between Andaman and Guantanamo. The absence of empathy for people from the Global South is one of many reasons why I could not give up on the book.

READ THE COMPLETE INTERVIEW HERE:
https://cafedissensusblog.com/2019/08/30/making-write-right-our-world-a-conversation-with-author-uzma-aslam-khan/