I’ve been a fan of the Strike crime thriller series by Robert Galbraith (JK Rowling) since the first one (The Cuckoo’s Calling) came out in 2013. And recently it seems like JKR is churning out these books on an annual basis, making it a new tradition for me to pick up the latest one for my December break.
The Running Grave is the seventh in the series. Whilst I enjoyed the previous one (The Ink Black Heart), the numerous chapters of chat transcripts became frustrating. So it’s good to be back to a relatively ‘normal’ style of book, albeit another tome coming in at over 900 pages.
I thoroughly enjoyed this one. It feels like the entire series has been building to this crescendo, where the stakes are raised, the action more intense, and the mystery as convoluted (in the best way possible) as ever.
This book sees Strike and Robin investigate a cult wherein their client’s son is trapped. They have been tasked with finding him, and trying to extract him from this commune, requiring Robin to go undercover at grave risk to her and the agency.
I found the world-building of the cult to be extremely well done. JKR crafts a terrifying group of antagonists, and articulates the danger both heroes face expertly. There were moments when I felt terrified for our heroes, and the crafting of the villains was some of the author’s best work yet. Throw in some cryptic mysticism, epigraphs at the head of each chapter referencing foreboding quotes from the I Ching or Book of Changes, and this is a book that is haunting, gripping, at times funny but mostly unputdownable.
The sheer number of suspects, the twisted backstories and the multilayered split locations did, at times, become tricky to follow. Especially when the plot is so action-packed and relentless, that you find yourself indulging in long reading sessions, becoming slightly fatigued and then struggling to remember or connect character threads. But I see this as a kind of positive-negative aspect: it makes for a compelling set of characters and a depth to the novel that’s become quintessential of the series.
How the main characters come to the conclusion about who the killer is, is also a bit complex, and JKR does a fine job hiding this from us. Which in one way is a good thing, adding to the allure of the murder mystery. But it does rob us of the payoff for trying to figure out the mystery alongside the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agency.
As ever, and something I’d like to maybe expand upon in a future post, the allure of these mystery-thrillers for me lies not in the crime being investigated (the murder, the theft etc), but in the characters, their relationships, and the world-building. And this, of course, is something JKR is expert at, proven from her days with the Potter series. Strike and Robin’s relationships, the multifaceted construction of their unique characters – hell, even the depth of character for some of the minor players – all make this series feel so visceral, so real. This, more than the mysteries at the heart of each book (and those are, of course, well-crafted), are what make me a massive fan of the series, and of this book in particular.
At present (given we still have maybe three more books in the series go), this one ranks up there for me alongside Book 5 (Troubled Blood). Like that one, The Running Grave has this ineffable quality to the victim, the murders, the mystery… the story haunts you long after you finish the end of page 945.
Over the past few years, I felt like my reading habit was on a decline. Perhaps it’s a combination of social media distractions and my life becoming increasingly busy, but despite the copious amount of books I own, and my love for the written word, I realised I just hadn’t been reading enough. By reading, I don’t mean scrolling through countless banal articles in my Feedly RSS feeds, Reddit posts or Tweets (are they still called Tweets? I don’t know anymore). By reading, I mean actively sitting down with a good book, and getting totally lost in its narrative.
Then in August 2023, I started considering what I once scoffed at: the ebook. I was firmly in the camp of physical books, and I still adore the feel of a real book, the scent of the pages, the beauty of the design and typography. But the convenience of the Kindle kept persistently gnawing at the back of my mind. And I came to the conclusion that perhaps dabbling in a new format of reading, one that peculiarly straddles the line between the analogue and digital world (more on that just now), might be just the thing to get me back into the reading habit.
The Kindle I ended up getting was the base model. I find that its simplicity in singular functionality the best thing about it. Unlike the Paperwhite, it’s smaller form factor is also nicer to hold and lighter. It’s really good at reading ebooks, and that’s about it. No Instagram to distract. No competent web browser to trawl. Just an e-ink screen, and words. Perfection.
Speaking of e-ink, I find it really easy on my eyes. It does a good job mimicking paper. Rather than looking at a screen, with light shooting out at your eyes, the e-ink display has no backlight, but a few LEDs that illuminate the surface.
Perhaps the biggest take-away from the few months of use has been a noticible increase in my reading speed. In the span of about 3-4 months I found myself blasting through 8 books, including discovering and devouring Richard Osman’s delightful Thursday Murder Club series. Whilst this number might seem low to most self-proclaimed avid readers, I was never one to read a copious amount of books to start with. But the instantaneous nature of online shopping, the almost addictive-like feel of tapping to the next page, and the little progress percentage in the bottom corner – coupled with the clever reading-speed and time-remaining-in-chapter line – have all contributed to me moving through books a lot more fluidly.
Of course, there’s the argument of quality over quantity. Fewer but better books rather than rushing through novel after novel. But reading more is always a good thing, and returning to a more regular habit of unwinding my mind with words on almost-paper has been good for me. I think that the act of reading, rather than being ensnared by the quick-dopamine hits of mindless scrolling on the ‘gram (although I’m not immune to the occasional social media binge) helps to calm the mind, to escape from the minutiae of everyday challenges, and, in my case, a way to also explore ideas that are directly feeding back into my writing projects.
Having extolled the virtues of the e-reader, I must admit that for the last two weeks, after waiting until I had a good block of free time, I’ve been hefting through the mighty tome that is Robert Galbraith’s The Running Grave, the latest Strike novel, in paperback. I had told myself upon getting the Kindle that I would still return to the printed page for some special books, and the Strike series is one of them, one of my favourite modern mysteries.
But as 2024 unfolds, I look forward to spending many hours with my Kindle as I work through my reading list for this year. I might even post a little about my impressions of some of those books. Stay tuned.
It seems that, with almost every post on this blog, I must preface it with an apology for a lack of posting. This time, I think I have good reason to explain my absence.
2023 has been an incredible year in many aspects of my life. But today, given the heritage of this blog, I wanted to reflect on one major milestone I’ve finally achieved.
Since high school, I discovered my love for writing. And as with all things that I’ve dabbled in (coding, music…), my energy quickly turned towards a seemingly impossible, complex project. In this case, it was tackling the ‘elusive manuscript’. I’ve wanted to write a novel — and have been attempting to do so — for well over a decade.
I’m relieved to say that this year, that project has finally come to (somewhat) fruition. Of course, the first draft of any long-form text is far from a completed work. There is still much work ahead for me to wrangle this beast into a discernible and coherent shape, presentable for the wider world. But that first step — putting down the words (all 97 000 of them…) has been my greatest struggle so far.
This post is a short tale of that adventure, and of nearly losing a large chunk of it. And as the year closes, it’s also a little reflection on where I’ve come on this writing journey of mine, and where I’m intending to go.
Devanagari
Devanagari: City of Gods has existed in some form in my mind and in a few failed previous starts for over a decade. Perhaps the earliest iteration came from an idea I explored during a routine English class test in, maybe, Grade 9 or so. In that moment of time-pressured composition, the idea of a dystopian city with some system called E.A.R.T.H. came to me in a flash. I was quite proud of the backronym I made up (“Energy Asynchronous Real-Time Habitat”), and wanted to use it as part of this long-format project I was slowly planning. What the backronym actually meant, and how it could fit into some sort of futuristic environmental disaster story, I didn’t quite know yet. The idea, however, suffered from what I now consider a fundamental part of novel-length development: sustainability. Many further attempts fizzled out, and then I got busy with matriculation, and university, and then work, and my writing life faded to background noise: a few blog posts here, some essays there, journaling, and long periods of silence in-between.
And then, amidst the weirdness of 2020, in that strange somnolent period between Christmas and New Year, a flash of lightening occurred. A close friend had recently gifted me a beautiful little Lord of the Rings themed notebook, with the hope that I would get back into writing. I was tinkering around with it in my Dad’s office, just jotting down ideas that had played in my mind over the past few years. And suddenly, pieces began to fall into place. Worlds began to collide. And Devanagari was born. For the first time, I had the strong feeling that this was the sustainable idea I was seeking for so long, bits and pieces of previous failed attempts finally coalescing into something that truly excited me for the first time in a long while.
To condense 97 000 words:
Devanagari is the name of the writing system of many Indic languages, particularly Hindi (which I’m trying to learn), and Sanskrit. It means ‘abode of the gods’. This alone was enticing: the merging of two facets of interest to me – ancient Vedic philosophy and myth, and not-so-fantastical advanced technology. That intersection gave rise to the central themes and ideas for the book. Ideas I knew could be sustained over the long period of time it would take to write this monster.
Without wanting to give too much away, Devanagari centres around a futuristic technopolis hailed as the last bastion of humanity. After a series of cataclysmic sociopolitical and environmental events called the Calamities, this city now houses the last surviving remnants of our species. In order to avoid making the same mistakes, and to effectively control and manage this population, a hyper-advanced artificial intelligence resides at the centre of the concentric city, quietly running the place and using the hive-mind to create a perfect image of society. It’s also worshipped by a small group as a god, a saviour of our species. Until… the machine starts to gain sentience. And a fight for our very humanity ensues.
Of course, there’s a lot more to it than that. The novel blends ancient philosophies with advanced technologies that are not that far-fetched, many of which already exist today. I’ve had fun following the imagined trajectory of our technological and social pathways, and where they could potentially converge. One of the central themes is our worship-like reverence of technology today, and the notion of what if, given this current course, we are inventing a new pantheon of digital gods?
Nearly Losing It All
The book is divide into 3 paths, inspired by a Vedic mantra: Satya (truth), Jyōti (light) and Amr̥taṁ (immortality).
My process at first was gently teasing out the ideas on paper with fountain pen. Then, I developed the outline with Scrivener, and wrote Part 1 entirely on computer. But I found myself starting to obsess over word count, and coupled with staring at a screen all day as part of my job, and wanting to emulate writers I personally admire (Anthony Horowitz, Neil Gaiman), I thought it’d be both fun and a re-invigoration of energy into the process to switch to longhand for all of Part 2.
This would do a world of difference to the process, and also, almost, the undoing of it all.
So, for much of 2022, I wrote with my Parker Sonnet in a Leuchtturm journal. This was a liberating experience: the feel of nib on paper is always intoxicating for writers, and not watching numbers tick up to my target goal, not staring at a screen – it was a great experience.
This was also the year my (now wife) and I were planning our wedding in earnest, and as such I was travelling quite a bit between Cape Town and Durban. Somehow, amidst the chaos of planning an out-of-town Indian wedding, I managed to complete the longhand draft of Part 2. During my travels up and down the country, I moved with my journal and pen, ‘just in case…’. I also travelled light, with only a laptop bag and a black pull-along carry-on (like the hundreds of other passengers on these low-cost checked-bag-priced flights). In November 2022, for some reason, I decided to place my writing folder in the carry-on bag, rather than my laptop bag. This was the key mistake.
With South African airlines, they often ask passengers to leave their carry-ons at the door to the aircraft, usually if the overhead bins are (inevitably) full. I’ve done this countless times, and didn’t think twice to drop my bag at the door with other similar-looking ones before boarding.
So, we land in Cape Town. It’s late at night. The plane parks at a remote stand. Now, if we’d parked at the terminal, the lights at the airbridge would’ve removed any uncertainty as to the ownership of these bags. But this was not the case on that fateful night.
I’m one of the last to walk down the airstairs. Almost all the neatly-lined up bags on the tarmac next to the Boeing 737 have been taken. There’s a single black bag there. As I approach, with a feeling of anxiety engulfing me, I see that it’s definitely not mine.
In that bag were my future wife’s freshly printed invitations for the wedding, and the notes and entirety of Part 2 of Devanagari. The book was close to being dead.
It took a day and numerous calls to the airport before we could locate my bag, erroneously taken by a passenger mistaking our similar-looking bags. Needless to say, my bag is now wrapped with bright-red tape and an ugly luggage tag: there’s no mistaken identity anymore.
I’ve also ensured my writing case travels on my person, in the cabin and in sight whenever I travel with it. For this reason, Part 2 of Devanagari will forever remain particularly special for me.
The Future
This first draft, as with any novel, is intentionally not perfect. Whilst I’m an ardent planner and plotter, just getting the words onto the page was my priority with this project. That’s always been the hardest part for me. No matter how meticulous the planning is, without actually sitting down to write it, there can be no first draft. Sometimes it was hard, and there were times I stopped for a while. But I pushed myself to at least get to this point, and getting here has allowed me to feel what it’s like to fly at the altitude of the requisite novel-length word count (above 80k words).
I’ve also come to appreciate and truly understand what many writers mean when they say that the first draft is meant for the writer, that it’s meant to be messy and not perfect. I was steadfast in reminding myself of this, allowing mistakes and messiness, moving fast and breaking things in the process. The two most important things for me were that, a) I get the words onto the page, and b) that I was writing this first and foremost for myself.
The intention is to, ultimately, get this queried and published. The road to getting that final book in my hands and on my bookshelf (and, hopefully, in the bookshelves of stores all over) is a long and complicated one. It’s going to require many revisions and fixes before the manuscript is ready for the wider world.
For now, I’ve let the work rest for a few months. Distance will be key to the editing process, allowing for refreshed eyes and a clearer mind when I get to fixing this draft. In the meantime, I’ve actually begun what could potentially be a new series. This is, once again, exciting me to remain in the realm of writing. It’s refreshing to be working on this next project, which is completely different from the Sci-Fi world of Devanagari. Having taken myself to the realm of 90 000+ words, and sustaining that idea over a long period, I now have a good sense for the shape of what a novel feels like from the perspective of the creator, rather than the consumer. I feel like my writerly muscles have been stretched; there is an elasticity to the process now, a sense of the contours that allows me to more comfortably navigate more novel-length projects. And the tools I’ve acquired from slaying the dragons along the path to this first manuscript will be invaluable as I embark on the next project, this potential trilogy.
The energy and excitement of the process fuels me, and I look forward to the day I can eventually share Devanagari (and this new project) with you. And, of course, I hope (but can’t promise) to write more on here about, well, writing. There’s much to still talk about on process, the tools, the methods… but for now, I’m ready to dive into the next one.
The latest episode of Chai Noon is out now! Hanik and I talk about what it was like growing up in Durban, travelling to India, the importance of family, and more.
You can listen to the episode at any of the following links:
Don’t forget to subscribe to Chai Noon to listen to all their other episodes. Chai Noon is a fun, relaxed podcast that talks about the Indian experience outside the subcontinent.
I was invited by my old friend Hanik (hpkotecha.com) to appear on his podcast Chai Noon this week.
Chai Noon is a weekly podcast hosted by Hanik and Kiran about the desi experience outside the realm of South Asia. I’ve been a fan of the show since they started. It’s relaxed, fun and they have a variety of interesting guests on each week.
Hanik and I had a great conversation that ranged from growing up in Durban to our love of the natural beauty of South Africa, our experiences of Diwali away from home and my experiences studying what’s often considered an unconventional degree within the Indian community in Durban. Of course, being Chai Noon, we had to talk about food – a lot. We also got to catch up and reminisce about the (still unfinished) animated film we were making back in Grade 4 with our friends (Mission to Mars).
This was my first experience being on a podcast and it’s inspired me to start seriously considering getting into the game. Watch this space 😉
The show comes out this week; I will be sure to link to it on the blog as soon as it airs.
