Black River by Nilanjana Roy (Pushkin Vertigo, £16.99)
Framed as a police procedural, but with the breadth of a saga, this ambitious novel begins with the murder of an eight-year-old girl in a village a few hours from Delhi. Young Munia is strung from a tree because she has witnessed the killing of a woman, and the man who finds her body – homeless, mentally fragile and a Muslim – is considered by the villagers to be the culprit. As under-resourced local cop Ombir Singh wrestles with his conscience, the story loops back to before Munia’s birth, when her father, Chand, comes to Delhi and makes a life for himself beside the Yamuna river, which is slowly becoming a polluted horror. Eventful years pass until the past catches up with the present, and we return to Chand’s attempts to discover his daughter’s real killer. Purists may require more overarching suspense, but individual scenes shimmer with tension in this dazzling, lyrical tale of friendship, love and grief that shines a light on the corruption and religious sectarianism of modern India.
