“My experience is that when one aspect of a place is emphasised, for example the violence in Karachi, there is usually a very potent but sometimes hidden ‘other’ side.” — Kim Echlin

CANADIAN novelist Kim Echlin has attracted critical success as well as literary awards with her novels. She has been described as “one of Canada’s finest prose stylists” (National Post), and her choice of subjects and locations make her a remarkable and compelling writer who describes the changing face of the world. After the powerful Dagmar’s Daughter, her last novel was The Disappeared, about a woman journeying to war-torn Cambodia to find her lost love. The novel was a finalist for the 2009 Scotiabank Giller Prize. In this interview with Books and Authors, she elaborates on the inspiration for her novel and what attracts her to stories of people in distress. Following are excerpts from the interview.

What made you chose Karachi as a location for Mahsa’s story? Did this choice have a particular purpose in the scheme of things in the novel?

I chose Karachi because I knew about the music scene there in the 1950s and 60s. I had seen a lot of Karachi bands online and I knew that Karachi was a musical hub at that time. The Beatles came through and Louis Armstrong played there. Everyone wanted to play in Karachi.

When I was thinking about where to set Mahsa’s story I read about the Beach Luxury Hotel as a place with lots of music and dancing in their club, 007. It is a beautiful building with a long history of hiring workers from all backgrounds so I decided to use it in the story. Then a Canadian friend and poet who was born in Pakistan said, “You should visit Pakistan.” I decided to try. It was difficult to get a visa but I discovered that if I were attending the Karachi Literature Festival I might qualify. Then I found out that the festival was being held at the Beach Luxury Hotel! Synchronicity led me to write about Karachi.

How did you research the background in Karachi? What was your experience like?

My initial research was reading and internet based. I read as much literature and history from Pakistan as I could. I watched documentaries about music. I read blogs with historical photographs. It was part of the so-called “hippie” trail in the ’60s, a time when a lot of European back-packers were travelling through. The city has a long history of cultural exchange. Dawn has a fabulous archive of photos and articles about the history of Karachi which I used.

When I arrived at the Beach Luxury Hotel, Dinshaw and Dinaz Avari, and the rest of the family who own the hotel, were very hospitable, and because they have been in the city for several generations they were able to answer historical questions to which answers are not found in books. I also met Norman D’Souza, a musician with Talismen, and Menin Rodrigues, a cultural leader, who told me stories about the history of Karachi, especially about the earlier periods when music was flourishing and people from all over the world were meeting there.

It is only violence in the city which attracts many of those who write about Karachi or Pakistan but you have chosen to depict a more settled, a more ‘musical’ time. Could you comment on this? My experience is that when one aspect of a place is emphasised, for example the violence in Karachi, there is usually a very potent but sometimes hidden ‘other’ side.

In Karachi, off the street, I discovered a powerful commitment to the arts, to discussion and debate and creativity. It is all there. The Karachi Literature festival was one of the biggest I have ever attended and the discussions and presentations were passionate and honest. People wanted to exchange ideas and tell their histories. I also spent time in a café-gallery called The Second Floor (T2F) where students wanted to talk. I met a very generous young student who took a lot of time telling me about student life. I visited an extraordinary exhibition of Rashid Rana’s art at the Mohatta Palace Museum with some friends, and also the art gallery, Canvas. On my own I visited the Abdullah Shah Ghazi shrine, the beaches, and some museums. Karachi is a place of great culture.

I already knew that music had deep roots in Karachi. Wherever there is music there are connections between peoples of different backgrounds. Music transcends language and cultural difference, and is a great place for sharing.

You are attracted to turbulent places, such as Cambodia in the last novel and now Pakistan. What attracts you towards such places as a writer?

It is true that my last two books were set partly in Cambodia and Pakistan, but I’ve also written a lot about Montreal and New York. Each place has its own turbulence, whether you can see it on the surface or not. I was brought up in a small community that was generally peaceful. But my parents came out of the social upheaval of an economic depression and a World War. They valued social justice and equality in their daily lives in a way that is reflected in the country’s post-war programmes of public education and medicine for all. They took us on dental outreach programs to northern Canada when we were growing up. I remember sleeping on the floor of a clinic one night and talking with them about why we were there. They said, “These people deserve not to be forgotten too.” They were gently insistent on kindness and empathy and generosity toward everyone in our everyday lives.

Turbulence comes from poverty and war and poor politics. It also comes from people not caring for each other. No place is immune. We are all responsible for each other.

What kind of comments are you getting for this novel from your reviewers and readers?

The reviews have been very favourable. I am discovering that many readers are drawn to the story of women’s friendship, and in the challenges of combining mothering with work and marriage. There is a scene in the book in which one of the characters lets her toddler sit on the floor and break a dozen eggs so that she can listen to some music and not be interrupted. Women love this scene! It is drawn from a moment I shared with a friend who had a toddler and twins. I think we all have these times when we just have to finish a piece of work or a conversation to nurture our creative and intellectual lives.

What are the next projects that you plan to work on?

I am just completing a translation of poetry from ancient Sumerian about the goddess, Inanna. She is very powerful, a creator and destroyer, sensual and also responsible for justice among her people. Her stories have been lost for millennia and they have been found again, and she provides a lively, potent image of woman from the first written poetry in the world 4,000 years ago. 