The Khan
By Saima Mir
Point Blank, One World, UK
ISBN: 978-1786079091
336pp.

Journalist Saima Mir’s debut novel, The Khan, tells the story of Jia Khan, daughter of Akbar Khan, the head of a powerful crime syndicate in a city in northern England. Jia has managed to escape this murky world and become a successful London barrister, but she is compelled to return to her home city and her family after a 15-year estrangement, as she must try to rein in the chaos created by her father’s murder.

The story has obvious parallels with Mario Puzo’s The Godfather: both are about organised crime and both tell the story from the perspective of the families and the immigrant community involved. Because of this, an easy way to reference the novel might be ‘The Godfather set in a city such as Bradford, with a female in the Michael Corleone role.’ But The Khan goes beyond that simple description, as it is also a searing indictment of white privilege and systemic racism in modern Britain.

The story is set in a place referred to simply as “the city”, a place that is described as having enjoyed its “glory days in the late 19th and early 20th century.” It is described as having fallen into decline after having once been very prosperous, “the wool capital of the world ... But then the textile industry moved overseas, where production was cheaper, and the mills that had once been humming love songs to her bounty, stood empty.”

Amid the economic neglect is an underlying social discontent in a place where the lives of immigrant communities and older locals are closely entwined yet very separate, and where an underlying sense of disenfranchisement and systemic prejudice has destroyed both hope and ambition in the younger generation of Muslim immigrants.

The criminal syndicate is run by Akbar Khan and a selected jirga of Pakhtun influentials. Even though they are part of a criminal network, they have a strong sense of right and wrong, are all devout Muslims and view the syndicate’s business as the best possible way of looking out for their families and communities. Their rationale is that the drugs and prostitution will exist anyway, so the wisest option is to be the ones in charge of these in order to be able to regulate them and control any excesses.

A gripping debut novel seems like The Godfather set in Bradford, but is more than just a crime thriller. It is also a searing commentary on white privilege

In Akbar Khan’s view, such economic activity would at least lift the community from the abyss of despair and desolation: “as he stood before the God of Abraham and Moses, of Jesus and Muhammad, Akbar Khan felt his heart to be unblemished, because he was providing for his people and fulfilling their needs.”

His syndicate becomes influential enough that the authorities actually ask for his assistance from time to time, and he is powerful enough to give members of his community the sense that they are being looked after: “Akbar Khan’s business interests led and fed the city and most of its people. They would not survive without him. Those who called his dealings ‘illicit’, his associates ‘criminal’ and his methods ‘illegal’, what did they know about hunger? What did they know about survival?”

This is the world of moral ambiguity that Jia is forced to re-enter, to save her family and her clan and it is unclear how — despite being respected as “the daughter of our Khan” — she will, as a woman, be able to navigate this world of Pakhtun values. But the sense of coming home is overwhelming and the pull of loyalty and family suck her in as she attempts to control an increasingly vicious turf war in the city.

Jia Khan is a fascinating character, although sometimes not altogether likeable. She is described by her own estranged son as “the ice queen” and, despite all the vulnerabilities and struggles we know to be part of her history, we are never quite sure of her or her motives.

She is one of the book’s many characters whose actions are influenced by the conflicts of growing up as a British Asian. Her early life has been lived as a “balancing act of being a Brit Pak girl” and, although she is born into money and privilege, has an Oxford education, is a barrister and on her way to becoming a judge, she remains aware of never being quite accepted by the mainstream.

The resentment of white privilege is also felt by Jia’s various cousins who train in prestigious and competitive professional fields, but somehow always find themselves to be on the fringes. A number of other minor characters in the story have had their lives destroyed by police harassment and judicial bias and this sense of injustice comes through in the words of one cousin, Razi Khan, who — along with his brother — has spent many years in jail: “My brother and me, we trusted our parents. They trusted the British judicial system, but they locked us up for throwing one stone. One stone. Almost identical case in Ravenscliffe a week earlier and the kid got a non-custodial sentence ... Because he was white.” Various such stories and sketches make the point repeatedly and, perhaps, more effectively than a news report might do.

“Have you heard of execution by golden shower?” He flinched and she pounced. “It was carried out by Pathan women on prisoners of war. I hadn’t thought about it until this morning when my people reminded me. But there’s no need for you to worry. These are civilised times, and as you mentioned earlier, in today’s world our women are controlled by men — and by that token I have no power and can do nothing other than take my brother and leave. If, however, by some chance I did have power and the might of my people behind me, you should know that you have shown my brother more mercy than I would show you.” — Excerpt from the book

But the novel is not a polemic. It is a crime thriller set in contemporary Britain, a story of family, loyalty and cultural heritage. The crime story is gripping, in and of itself, but its depiction of disenfranchised and distrusted immigrants will resonate with many around the world, not just in Britain.

As the author herself has candidly said, the publication timing has proved to be just right because, in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, there has been a heightened awareness of the need to know the stories of those who are treated with hostility and double standards by the very institutions that ought to protect them.

Mir’s writing is clear and very well observed and it captures effectively the rhythms of speech and the sensory experiences of the desi immigrant family — whether it is the son who describes his mother as watching him from the kitchen, “enveloped in the smell of masala, in her hand a powdered rolling pin”, or simple phrases such as the one used when describing the activity of families searching for prospective brides: “It was a hobby, a time-pass.”

For those desi readers who have heard ‘time-pass’ and ‘brought up’ routinely used as nouns by relatives in the United Kingdom, this sort of phrase will rate as a delightful bit of observation.

The Khan has been optioned by BBC Studios, so a screen version is expected in the not-too-distant future.

The reviewer is a UK-based journalist

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 14th, 2021