Review: The Khan by Saima Mir
Saima Mir’s saga of crime begins as few would, with an invocation of love. “It was simply a matter of a broken heart.”
Ambitious and successful lawyer Jia Khan must deal with the murder of her father, Akbar Khan. Unlike most immigrant fathers, The Khan was the head of a mighty criminal cartel; a force of nature that maintained order and peace on the streets of London. Without him racial tensions between the Pakistani and white populations are peaking, internally warring factions are vying to take his place. The vacuum of power demands a head and as much as she might fight or hate it, it must be Jia’s.
If there’s a telling statement that embodies the flair with which Mir writes, it is Jia Khan’s motto: “Be twice as good as men and four times as good as white men.” There is a wry sense of irony that percolates through her characters and narration. Religion, tradition, gender and culture are spoken of through a flavour of sardonic truth. “The law unlike men, was dependable. It was easy to navigate; you always knew where you stood with it.” When it comes to tradition, she writes of how Jia is the only woman to witness her father’s burial as women were considered too emotional for such events. She writes, “Coming from a race that was hot-headed, whose men were known for holding lengthy grudges, and being rash in their actions, the irony of this was not lost on Jia”
The Khan fills a much-needed gap in the public imagination. Here’s an authentic, unabashed depiction of South Asian life and society within the contemporary global context. A story that is devoid of stereotypes yet still true to its Muslim roots. Mir builds a milieu that is authentic and yet unique. She mentions training in the art of the gentry, “…familiarity with the knot counts of Persian rugs, how to tell if a fabric was silk or synthetic, the choosing of chai, discernment in the quality of china, the purchasing of pure spices…” She peppers the novel with motifs of Pakhtun life and history; letting it bleed through how her characters view and manoeuvre concepts of justice, family, sacrifice, duty, and legacy.
What is also of great interest is the use of fiction as a lens trained on racial tensions in Britain. Mir takes on racial profiling, discrimination, and social injustices head-on using them as key events. It is these realities that define character motives. They make them more relatable pulling them out of the boredom of black and white morality to chasms of grey. A key point in the novel is the tragedy that befalls Akbar Khan’s eldest son turning him away from the path to an Oxford education and into the family business.
Akbar Khan’s solutions to keep the youth off the streets are sagacious and insightful. He goes to great lengths to avoid a full-out war, to use his criminal syndicate as a tempering force, a force that maintains a very different kind of peace. When he is told of a nightclub shooting, he says, “If the young are not initiated into the tribe, what else will they do but burn the village down?” in an effort to be heard.
When Jia Khan takes over the Jirga, the traditional council, she faces hardened, archaic men and their unwieldy traditions. A council that is hostile to her gender, age, and experience. Mir offers a nuanced look at the psyche of both genders and how Jia uses the testosterone of the men against them. The process by which she must turn the council to her advantage is as much a struggle between tradition and modernity, a struggle most South Asians are all too familiar with.
Mir’s cast is extremely contained. Each pawn plays a vital role in driving the narrative forward. Her protagonist, Jia Khan, is extremely rounded. While she is excellent at handling the business, she struggles in her relationships. Her fears of being a mother, a partner to Elyas, the emotional toll of handling her family, the trauma of attacks on her brothers, are as much a part of the novel as the business. Mir isn’t hesitant to show us her ugly side, the brutal compartmentalization she must resort to, to prevent a breakdown. The novel also captures the strength of women and the obstacles they navigate to fight and protect their agency. The only weak link in this chain appears to be Jia’s nemesis, Andrzej Nowak. A garden-variety, born of money, bored of privilege, playing-the-game-for-the-thrill, villain. One would have hoped for a more worthy, complex adversary to Jia Khan but this one seems to fold rather quickly.
Mir structures the novel like an already-begun chess game. Through snippets and flashbacks, the reader is shown the movement of individual pieces. How they all fit together and what the play is keeps the reader hooked and guessing. It makes for an immersive read. As with any good chess game, the ending is of particular importance and Mir ends on a spectacular note of triumph, a flourish that is hard to predict or anticipate. It blurs the past and the present in service to the plot. Cementing the legacy of The Khan, Mir drives home the point that people don’t become, they always are The Khan.
Percy Bharucha is a freelance writer and illustrator with two biweekly comics, The Adult Manual and Cats Over Coffee. Instagram: @percybharucha
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Saima Mir’s saga of crime begins as few would, with an invocation of love. “It was simply a matter of a broken heart.”
Ambitious and successful lawyer Jia Khan must deal with the murder of her father, Akbar Khan. Unlike most immigrant fathers, The Khan was the head of a mighty criminal cartel; a force of nature that maintained order and peace on the streets of London. Without him racial tensions between the Pakistani and white populations are peaking, internally warring factions are vying to take his place. The vacuum of power demands a head and as much as she might fight or hate it, it must be Jia’s.
If there’s a telling statement that embodies the flair with which Mir writes, it is Jia Khan’s motto: “Be twice as good as men and four times as good as white men.” There is a wry sense of irony that percolates through her characters and narration. Religion, tradition, gender and culture are spoken of through a flavour of sardonic truth. “The law unlike men, was dependable. It was easy to navigate; you always knew where you stood with it.” When it comes to tradition, she writes of how Jia is the only woman to witness her father’s burial as women were considered too emotional for such events. She writes, “Coming from a race that was hot-headed, whose men were known for holding lengthy grudges, and being rash in their actions, the irony of this was not lost on Jia”
The Khan fills a much-needed gap in the public imagination. Here’s an authentic, unabashed depiction of South Asian life and society within the contemporary global context. A story that is devoid of stereotypes yet still true to its Muslim roots. Mir builds a milieu that is authentic and yet unique. She mentions training in the art of the gentry, “…familiarity with the knot counts of Persian rugs, how to tell if a fabric was silk or synthetic, the choosing of chai, discernment in the quality of china, the purchasing of pure spices…” She peppers the novel with motifs of Pakhtun life and history; letting it bleed through how her characters view and manoeuvre concepts of justice, family, sacrifice, duty, and legacy.
What is also of great interest is the use of fiction as a lens trained on racial tensions in Britain. Mir takes on racial profiling, discrimination, and social injustices head-on using them as key events. It is these realities that define character motives. They make them more relatable pulling them out of the boredom of black and white morality to chasms of grey. A key point in the novel is the tragedy that befalls Akbar Khan’s eldest son turning him away from the path to an Oxford education and into the family business.
Akbar Khan’s solutions to keep the youth off the streets are sagacious and insightful. He goes to great lengths to avoid a full-out war, to use his criminal syndicate as a tempering force, a force that maintains a very different kind of peace. When he is told of a nightclub shooting, he says, “If the young are not initiated into the tribe, what else will they do but burn the village down?” in an effort to be heard.
When Jia Khan takes over the Jirga, the traditional council, she faces hardened, archaic men and their unwieldy traditions. A council that is hostile to her gender, age, and experience. Mir offers a nuanced look at the psyche of both genders and how Jia uses the testosterone of the men against them. The process by which she must turn the council to her advantage is as much a struggle between tradition and modernity, a struggle most South Asians are all too familiar with.
Mir’s cast is extremely contained. Each pawn plays a vital role in driving the narrative forward. Her protagonist, Jia Khan, is extremely rounded. While she is excellent at handling the business, she struggles in her relationships. Her fears of being a mother, a partner to Elyas, the emotional toll of handling her family, the trauma of attacks on her brothers, are as much a part of the novel as the business. Mir isn’t hesitant to show us her ugly side, the brutal compartmentalization she must resort to, to prevent a breakdown. The novel also captures the strength of women and the obstacles they navigate to fight and protect their agency. The only weak link in this chain appears to be Jia’s nemesis, Andrzej Nowak. A garden-variety, born of money, bored of privilege, playing-the-game-for-the-thrill, villain. One would have hoped for a more worthy, complex adversary to Jia Khan but this one seems to fold rather quickly.
Mir structures the novel like an already-begun chess game. Through snippets and flashbacks, the reader is shown the movement of individual pieces. How they all fit together and what the play is keeps the reader hooked and guessing. It makes for an immersive read. As with any good chess game, the ending is of particular importance and Mir ends on a spectacular note of triumph, a flourish that is hard to predict or anticipate. It blurs the past and the present in service to the plot. Cementing the legacy of The Khan, Mir drives home the point that people don’t become, they always are The Khan.
Percy Bharucha is a freelance writer and illustrator with two biweekly comics, The Adult Manual and Cats Over Coffee. Instagram: @percybharucha
Enjoy unlimited digital access with HT Premium
Subscribe Now to continue reading
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