Londonstani
Publishing House: Penguin
WorkNameSort: Londonstani

‘Every time when it’s important to use this gob a mine I hear my voice,â?� says Jas, the teenage narrator of Gautam Malkani’s debut novel, Londonstani. ‘It’s as if there’s some other voice a mine givin it, Don’t say that, it’ll make you look like a gimp.â?�

So Jas cannot say hello to his desi boys, as descendants of the Indian diaspora refer to themselves. It has to be, ‘Big Up, bruv.â?� He can forget about all those books he used to read in school, or throwing chirps at a Muslim girl. Not unless he wants to be ridiculed as a batty coconut.

Welcome to Londonstan, the inner ring of Heathrow’s flight plan, where brown-skinned Somalis, Chinese, Indians, Pakistanis, Bengalis and other immigrant populations come together in something resembling not a melting pot, but rather a boiling cauldron of tribes. Jas’ stomping ground is ‘the London Borough a Hounslow, car park capital a the world.â?� He and his three best friends, Hindu nationalist Amit, Sikh street thug Hardjit and Lothario Ravi, cruise in a modified BMW M3, calling out to girls, picking fights.

Readers who have seen Sacha Baron Cohen’s satirical Da Ali G. Show will have a leg up here, for Londonstani throws readers in at the deep end, with dialogue that looks and sounds more like a gangsta rapper’s text message than actual speech.

Quicker than one would imagine, however, treading water seems easy, and then actually enjoyable. Although reviews from England made inevitable comparisons to Monica Ali’s Brick Lane, this book is actually closer kin to The Sopranos. Like the mobsters at the heart of the HBO series, Jas and his crew are not exactly above the table. Their main stream of income comes from reprogramming stolen mobile phones ‘ small-time stuff, but in this age of terrorist bombings it’s something the Feds keep a close eye on.

And yet, for all their petty criminal bona fides, the characters of Londonstani are basically mama’s boys. On the way to a rumble, Amit has to stop and buy laxatives and other feminine products for his mother, as does his opponent. In another hilarious scene, they sweep a cache of stolen ‘fonesâ?� off the bed so their auntie can lay down afternoon snacks: a ‘silver tray full a samosas, pakoras, glasses a Coke an cups a chai.â?� Needless to say, these women are shocked when their boys get involved in real crime.

This article appears in Jun 21-27, 2006.