A Piece of the Moon
By Mushir Anwar
Folio Books, Lahore
ISBN: 978-9697834532
250pp.

The conflicts and comforts of family life figure prominently in most South Asian films, novels and television soap operas, but we seldom find a nuanced portrait of familial relationships. Popular culture mostly depicts the South Asian family as either a volatile institution that fuels instability, or a safety net against a cruel, uncaring world. Few narratives have moved beyond these binaries of friction and stability to offer a perspective that is unique yet starkly realistic.

Journalist Mushir Anwar’s posthumously published debut novel, A Piece of the Moon, acts as a counter to those clichéd, fictional representations of the South Asian family that we encounter with alarming regularity. It is an inter-generational account of a family and features a cast of eccentric characters, but it neither dwells on the dramatic confrontations within the private sphere, nor preaches the merits of familial unity.

On the contrary, Anwar breaks away from the stereotypical mould. He uses the family’s past and present to unravel darker truths about human nature and South Asia’s cultural and political milieu, linking incidents that occur within the cosy parameters of home to the broad sweep of history, culture and politics in the Subcontinent during the years before and after Partition.

Most first-time novelists would struggle to accomplish this feat without belabouring the narrative with excessive background information culled from historical texts. Anwar, however, doesn’t allow himself to be weighed down by poor creative choices. Long explanatory passages are eschewed in favour of a character-driven approach to storytelling. In addition, he captures the external world that his characters inhabit without losing sight of the interior landscape of their dreams and dilemmas.

Mushir Anwar’s posthumously published novel stretches the boundaries of the Pakistani novel in English and offers a captivating meditation on the power of memory and human experience

The miscellany of characters is rich, but it is not a heavily plot-driven tale filled with drama and intrigue. In fact, readers are cautioned against building expectations of a story that contains all the trappings of a family saga. This shouldn’t be viewed as a fault, as Anwar’s intention isn’t just to tell readers a story, but also to experiment with the novel as a form.

This is evident from the introductory chapter ‘Self-Portraits — As One Wants to be Seen’, wherein readers are made to feel that they are part of a literary experiment. Unfortunately, the author’s eagerness to appear wildly innovative results in a few creative compromises.

The chapter begins with a long-winded commentary on the significance of a narrator to the art of storytelling. After a few paragraphs, the characters are allowed the “spurious privilege” of having their say, rather than being held captive to an impersonal narrator’s voice. The rest of the chapter contains a series of meandering monologues of varying lengths, delivered by the novel’s diverse cast.

While some of the monologues seem excessively philosophical, they provide a window into the complex minds of these characters and might help readers understand them better when they are encountered later in the book.

This first chapter also prepares readers, on an entirely superficial level, for the novel’s unusual structure. The family’s circumstances are shown via interlocking sketches rather than a linear account. But this also serves a deeper purpose, because it comes through as a passionate revolt against the accepted norms of storytelling, whereby narrators often wield absolute control over the story.

Anwar’s narrator is a pliant entity, independent of the author, but remains cognisant of the other characters’ thoughts and motivations. Throughout the novel, the narrator takes on the avatar of the youngest member of the family, Dillan, who must grapple with the onslaught of his family’s past and his own tumultuous present.

Dillan is an ideal choice to narrate the family’s story, because he possesses an earnest desire to understand intricate human emotions. Uncle Ghafoor, Dillan’s older maternal uncle, is another worthy contender for the role, as he is fairly well-read and knowledgeable.

But while he remains a dominant presence in some sketches, Uncle Ghafoor lacks the empathy and sincerity that his nephew possesses. Dillan, therefore, becomes the catalyst through which the struggles of the other characters come to the fore.

The structure of the novel, though complex and intriguing, often makes navigation difficult. At critical stages in the story, the author abruptly shifts to a different setting and time. Amid these dizzying shifts, some readers might question whether a loose adherence to a linear trajectory would have worked to the book’s advantage.

Sticklers for linearity might be tempted to go through the contents page and find an alternative order to read the sketches. But this, too, will prove futile, as the chapter headings bear little to no indication of the time and place in which the sketches are set. However, readers are urged to persevere as, ultimately, Anwar manages to weave the seemingly disjointed segments into a cohesive whole.

Each sketch should be treated as a self-contained journey through time. For this reason alone, cynics may be tempted to argue that A Piece of the Moon isn’t a novel, but a mosaic of memories and experiences. Any effort to debate whether Anwar’s debut work fits neatly into a particular category of fiction will only undermine its creative and stylistic merits.

In another vein, A Piece of the Moon can be considered a literary anomaly in Pakistani Anglophone literature, as it fuses various genres with relative ease. In his prologue to the book, noted scholar Syed Nomanul Haq asserts that Anwar’s work “resists being held in a taxonomic box of contemporary genres.”

Many of the sketches serve as welcome proof of the author’s ability to weave in magical realism and supernatural occurrences, such as in the chapter ‘Not Your Stop?’ — a spine-chilling tale about Mr Opadhiyae, who travels on a “ghost train” that is doomed to not arrive at its destination. This technique might somewhat jar readers accustomed to stories laced with realism but, be that as it may, Anwar’s ability to incorporate various genres into a single canvas is a testament of his skill as a versatile storyteller.

Although filtered through the male perspective, the novel is spared from becoming a testosterone-fuelled creative exercise where the experiences of the female characters are overlooked. In fact, the girls and women are far more level-headed than their male counterparts, and not as prone to philosophical musings. As a result, characters such as Shammo, Shanti and Tara seem more realistic than the pseudo-intellectual men strutting through the pages.

A Piece of the Moon offers a captivating meditation on the power of memory and human experiences. It is a radical departure from the fiction being written by contemporary writers of Pakistani origin, as it experiments with genre and form.

However, while an audacious and courageous addition to Pakistani literature in English, the novel could have benefitted from substantial trimming and stronger editorial input. Even so, the author ought to be commended for stretching the boundaries of what the Pakistani novel in English can achieve — a significant feat that is worthy of appreciation.

The reviewer is the author of Typically Tanya and co-editor of The Stained-Glass Window: Stories of the Pandemic from Pakistan.

He tweets @TahaKehar

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, July 2nd, 2023