My interest in South Asian literature was ignited by my year off before university, 1993-4, which I spent teaching in Peshawar. An obsessive reader, I immediately joined Peshawar’s old-fashioned public library, and found myself endlessly borrowing Thomas Hardy, George Eliot, Georgette Heyer, and Agatha Christie.
One day I found a copy of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, which I gulped down during a single weekend at the family home I lived in and in the women’s areas of cafes
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