"Black River" by Nilanjana Roy is an intriguing combination of crime noir, psychological thriller, state-of-the-nation novel, and literary fiction. The plot is set in the peaceful Indian village of Teetarpur, where an eight-year-old girl named Munia is discovered dead, hanging from a Jamun tree branch. The suspicion falls on a wanderer named Mansoor, who follows the Muslim faith, and it is up to the local policeman, Sub-Inspector Ombir Singh, to reveal the truth.
This book by Roy is an expertly written exploration of Indian society. The author's writing style is immersive, lyrical, and elegant, perfectly capturing the complexity of the various layers of society. The novel delves into themes like love, fatherhood, enduring friendships, and kindness while addressing darker topics such as religious intolerance, corruption, and violence against women. The city and the Yamuna River are both given characters, contributing to the immersive sense of place and setting the stage for the story.
The book's pace may be slower than typical crime novels, but its characters are well-defined and memorable. The book evokes hope and despair, and the constant menace of the mob compounds the tension, making it a fascinating read.
Roy accurately presents the theme of religious extremism in the novel, but it may be one-sided and exaggerated. While it may distract some readers, it does not diminish the book's overall quality. Despite the changes in focus throughout the story, the conclusion is logical, and the events leading up to it are satisfactory.
"Black River" is a must-read novel for fans of crime, psychological thrillers, state-of-the-nation novels, and literary fiction. It is tightly written, engaging, and guaranteed to tug at readers' heartstrings.

My thanks to Pushkin Press for a review copy of this book via NetGalley.

Black River (2022) is a story centred around a cold-blooded and harrowing murder—that of an eight-year-old girl—in a small village on the outskirts of Delhi and the investigation that ensues, but effectively it is a commentary on the current-day state of things—the dynamics of power and society in a small village, the increasing intolerance in the country, but also of the power of friendship, bonds and threads of humanity that remain at least in some, in coping and in bringing about a sense of justice. This is a dark and distressing read, but also one which manages to remain uplifting.

The story opens in the small (fictional) village of Teetarpur, a place which is as of now cut off from the modernisation and developments that have overtaken metros and larger cities, but which as we learn is sought to be brought on that path. Here a little eight-year-old girl Munia is heartlessly killed (one has a sense of impending doom as that scene unfolds, and can’t but read it with a feeling of horror and distress). She is the only child of her father, Chand, a widower, whose whole life revolves around his Munia. His childless brother and sister-in-law, Balle Ram and Sarita too dote on her, and the rest of the village as is fond of the child who has grown up before their eyes. Suspicion falls on Mansoor Khan, a mentally troubled man (a consequence of violence and loss faced in the past), who happens to be the one who discovers the body. But Sub-Inspector Ombir Singh and his deputy, Bhim Sain on whom the investigation falls aren’t convinced. But the channel of public opinion is soon manipulated to strengthen that suspicion and Ombir and Bhim Sain must give in. A senior police officer from Delhi is deputed to the case too, for Mansoor’s religion means the matter can’t but take a communal turn. Ombir and Bhim Sain have to work in circumstances where they are balancing their own sense of right and wrong with local dynamics and tensions as also power equations, all of which must be taken on board. In addition, there is less than acceptable infrastructure—from inadequate work space which also constitutes their living quarters since the latter are ‘under construction’ to hospitals and forensic facilities which are not only poorly equipped but also function under the very same social webs and dynamics.

As the story moves forward, we also get a look into Chand’s backstory—from the days of his youth where he wished to move away to the big city (Delhi) and not simply be a farmer, his struggles and life until he got to the point where our story is taking place, and the friendships and bonds he formed in that early life which continue stay by him and support him to the present. Likewise, we also get more insights into Ombir who is posted away from his family and must function in difficult circumstances, where there is much to weigh and consider in taking each step. There are also various other characters, including Jolly Singh a rich landowner whose property adjoins Chand’s and who promises every help, his business partner Saluja, Ombir’s deputy, Bhim Sain and Chand’s friends from his Delhi days, Badshah Miyan and Rabia. As we weave in and out of these interconnected stories, past and present, the question that remains at the centre of it all is whether Munia’s killer will be caught, and justice served?

Black River is certainly a dark and distressing read, dealing with a range of hard to read issues from murder and child abuse to corruption, drugs, and communal tensions among others, but what I liked was the restraint the author exercised in terms of dealing with these issues without getting too graphic or gratuitous in any instance. Yet, the gravity and horror are put across very effectively. (This is so even in the case of the abattoir, as Chand works as a butcher for a time. Here, people must face their feelings, respect the creatures that give them food and livelihood, and do their work with all that it involves.) At the same time, while there is much that is wrong in the world this story plays out in (our current world), there is also much to give us hope. We have policemen who are in a manner of speaking corrupt, who must bow down to or function within the frame of local dynamics and power structures, who have to make compromises, but they are also people who want to do right, and aren’t willing to see the little child’s killer or indeed some other rather depraved characters they come across go free, and work within the limits they are placed under to achieve this. Likewise, is also the senior officer sent down to supervise the investigation who functions under comparable compulsions but gives both credit and due regard to Ombir and Bhim Sain.

The sensitive portrayal of characters who have various shades to them and their stories were an element I very much enjoyed in this book. We have the Sub-Inspector Ombir (and indeed Bhim Sain) who are realistic and very grey characters—they retain their humanity in that while they may have to make compromises, they have a sense of right and wrong and do try to get to the bottom of things. Their sensitive sides come through in their dealings with animals (we have a mongoose, a rabbit, Laadli, and also a puppy), as does their ruthlessness with those who deserve it. The constant pressures and limitations under which they have to function, often having to also go sleepless for hours are well depicted and it was good to see characters of their ilk rather than the stereotypical corrupt-beyond-redemption policemen one often encounters. Chand was another character I thought was excellently done. While initially he appears as simply a small farmer in a small village, as his story unfolds, we begin to see the many layers of his character, the vast and rich experiences he has had in his life, the deep friendships formed, and the many depths of this man who so loved the little girl cruelly taken away from him. His early life in Delhi, is for a long while spent on the banks of the river Yamuna, where he lives with his friends, and she too in some ways becomes a character, giving so much to the city that grows by her side and the people who depend on her including a sense of peace and comfort, as well as taking so much into herself—all the waste and pollutants which are the only things the people seem to give to her in return.

The atmosphere of intolerance and communal tensions both in the recent past and the current day are a theme that the book explores, and this is one that is certainly very relevant in the present context, especially how this is easily taken advantage of by the unscrupulous (usually powerful politicians or the influential rich) to colour the smallest of incidents, channel opinions and manipulate the gullible to their own ends. On the other hand, are relationships at the individual level which strong enough to withstand these attempts but perhaps not to the extent that they can change the larger course of things.

While these are indeed issues that are of the utmost relevance and deserve every attention, I also felt at the same time that they may tend to be construed as the only picture of how things are in the country which is also not the case. There are several states of affairs that exist side-by-side and that too needs to be taken into account.

The book is centred around a murder and there is a mystery element to it, but it was fairly apparent from the opening chapter who the culprit was. However, that didn’t in anyway make me less inclined to continue to read on. In fact, because this was so well written, it was the opposite that was the case and rather than listen to a podcast or two which I had meant to do on Sunday I chose to read on right till the end. Not only did I want confirmation of whether the culprit was indeed the person hinted to but I also wanted to see how things would turn out. Justice is served certainly—just not quite as one expects.

This is the second book I have read by author Nilanjana Roy (the first was The Wildings, which was among the earliest books I reviewed on my blog) and it was every bit as compelling as the first. Raw and gritty, but with plenty of characters one can sympathise with and feel for, this was an excellent read, one that is no so much a murder mystery but uses it as a pivot for a much broader picture of things.

4.25 stars

In a small backward village bordering Delhi, eight-year-old Munia is strung up from a tree near her isolated house, and a harmless lunatic – Mansoor Khan – who finds the girl’s body becomes the convenient prime suspect. Ombir Singh, the inspector from the two-man police department of the nearby small-town, locks up the suspect more to keep him safe from the mob that wants to lynch him – not the least because of his religion – than due to any presumption of his guilt. The village is on its way to becoming a swanky township thanks to the enterprise of its rich and influential, who want the murder case closed quickly to prevent bad publicity. The police do not have even the basic infrastructure necessary for a murder investigation, and the villagers have no faith in the judiciary anyway, so nobody is going to blame the police for their cursory action. But Ombir has seen the girl grow up in front of him and is struggling to balance his conscience against pragmatism. Little Munia was the whole point of existence for her widowed father, Chand, who is desperate to avenge his daughter’s murder but is unsure of Mansoor’s guilt. Chand has lived and worked in the capital for several years, intimately experiencing human imperfections, and has made up his mind as to what he will do.

Thus, Black River by Nilanjana Roy sets out to be a rural police procedural set on the outskirts of the capital of India. Roy brings to life the tiny village and the adjoining town along with their occupants with vivid descriptions and depicts how the police are shackled from pursuing the truth realistically. Black River begins as a tense thriller with the first fifty-odd pages flying away, but the mood and the pace take a drastic turn as Chand’s reminiscences of his past in Delhi take centre stage. Make no mistake, Roy’s narration of Chand’s life on the banks of river Yamuna before it became the noxious stream it is now and his friendships that transcended religious barriers before extremism took hold of the perennially cosmopolitan capital is tender, moving, and enthralling. But these repeated digressions weaken the gripping primary plot, doing nothing to further the story despite the top-notch characterisation of Chand’s old friends and the heartrending account of their present plight. The portrayal of the religious extremism that runs through this novel is, while fairly accurate for the most part, decidedly one-sided and a bit overdone. While the conclusion makes sense at a certain level, the events and revelations leading towards it feel somewhat inadequate, owing to the constant shifting of focus.

On balance though, Black River’s positives – its high-quality prose, authentic characters and settings, and the heart that lies beneath it all – outweigh the negatives, and I am glad I read it!

I would like to thank the publishers, Pushkin Press, for providing me with a Digital Review Copy of Black River through NetGalley in exchange for my honest review, and commend them for their stellar effort in making world fiction accessible to all!

The download date was unfortunately missed, I would be happy to re-review if it became available again. I have awarded stars for the book cover and description as they both appeal to me. I would be more than happy to re-read and review if a download becomes available. If you would like me to re-review please feel free to contact me at thesecretbookreview@gmail.com or via social media The_secret_bookreview (Instagram) or Secret_bookblog (Twitter). Thank you.

In a Nutshell: #OwnVoices Indian noir covering some tough topics. Beautifully written prose, well-developed plot, predictable as a mystery, somewhat over the top in social commentary. Not to be read as a thriller. Check out the content warnings!

Story Synopsis:
2017. On the outskirts of Delhi lies a nondescript (fictional) village named Teetarpur, known for nothing until one of its children, an eight-year-old named Munia, is found dead, hanging from the branch of a jamun tree. The suspicion falls upon Mansoor, a half-crazed nomad who wanders through the village. Munia’s father, the widowed Chand, wants revenge and doesn’t trust the law to deliver justice.
Local inspector Ombir Singh is left with the task of doing justice to Munia and Chand, but with pressure from the wealthy in the village and his own bosses in Delhi, will he be able to settle the case to everyone’s happiness?
The story comes to us in limited third person perspective of various characters.

Note: The book is marketed as a literary thriller, which is 50% accurate. The ‘literary’ tag is justified in how the author focusses on the individual characters and helps us know their personality through the detailed character build-up. The poetic writing also merits this tag. But a thriller this is not, in any sense of the word. It has elements of police procedural, but the overall feel is more like a noir.


Bookish Yays:
😍 The setting – gritty, raw, real! Never have I seen an Indian village come so alive in fictional pages. The prose infuses the locations with a dark beauty.
😍 The initial few chapters – Oh my God! I was left speechless at how soon the scene turned from routine to horrifying without resorting to overt brutality.
😍 So many impressive morally grey characters! While some characters still fit within the conventional stereotypes, most of the main characters have enough depth to leave us wondering whether to root for them or shun them. Munia’s father Chand, Chand’s friend Rabia, butcher Badshah Miyan, Ombir Singh, his assistant Bhim Sain and the Delhi police guy (forgot his name!) stand out for their vividity and complexity.
😍 Through Badshah Miyan’s track, the story covers the life of the butcher community in Delhi. While tough to read because of the brutality involved, the stark realism of these scenes will stay with me for long. I was impressed by how the author handled this delicate topic without any bias towards or against any community.
😍 While Munia barely has a role in the book courtesy her early death, I still loved her portrayal, especially her closeness with her father Chand. To see such a caring father-daughter relationship in a rural setting was refreshing.
😍 Despite being a journalist herself, the author doesn’t shy away from highlighting the callousness of TV journalists while covering “breaking news”.
😍 There are some brilliant quotes in the book.


Bookish Mixed-Bags:
😐 The structure of the novel is somewhat atypical. While the dominant plot is that of Munia’s murder and its aftermath, the narrative baton sometimes passes over to a character, and suddenly, we are shifted into the past, where we learn the character’s backstory until the present day. This abrupt jump detracts from the continuity of the current timeline. Moreover, each backstory involved some element of social commentary. This works in case of Chand’s and Ombir’s narratives, but Rabia’s, with such a detailed account of the communal tensions at Bright Dairy, doesn’t blend in well with the rest of the story. Don’t get me wrong, the social content is still somewhat accurate. But when the core plotline is about a crime, anything not contributing to this idea directly feels like a distraction.
😐 The books covers a wide range of themes: vigilante justice, religious discrimination, migrant problems, political manipulations, corruption, misogyny, class barriers, and a few more. While many of these are written well, a few felt shoved in, especially in the backstories.
😐 Guessing the identity of the killer isn’t that challenging. So this is not really a whodunit. Luckily, the noir elements were strong enough for me to be happy. But if you read this as a murder mystery or crime thriller, you might be dissatisfied.
😐 The ending, while satisfying, is somewhat “filmy”.
😐 No glossary for the Hindi words, at least not in my ARC. For me, it was still okay as I know Hindi. But some of the subtleties will be lost to those who don’t understand the language. Like, would they understand the charm of the word ‘Laadli’, the name Bhim Sain gives his pet rabbit?
(Of course, knowing Hindi didn’t necessarily make my reading experience comfortable because there were some truly vulgar words included. Of course, they suited the characters mouthing the words, but the language sure made me squirm. I am used to hopping over English cuss words, but am not attuned to seeing such colourful Hindi cuss words in English fiction, so my senses were somewhat scandalised. 😄)

Bookish Nays:
😓 The present timeline was written in the past tense, but the past backstories were written in the present tense! Aiyyo - why? Why couldn’t both be in the past tense? The present tense was jarring.

Despite the issues I had with some of the writing decisions, this is still a story that will stay with me. It portrays the dirty underbelly of rural India in a compelling and genuine manner. The author’s experience as a journalist is clearly visible, and I'll keep her future works on my radar.
Recommended to those wanting to try a powerful literary crime story set in rural Indian hinterlands.
3.75 stars. (Which would easily have been 4.25 had the book only focussed on the crime-related events in the contemporary timeline and cut out those extensive backstories or reduced their length and social agenda.)

My thanks to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the DRC of “Black River”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.


Content warnings: Death, murder, physical assault, sexual abuse, paedophilia, animal abuse.

—Black River is a tragic story both in its rocky investigation to unveil the truth, and in the reality of India that it presents through its fictional characters. You could see how this is going to end a long way off, but still it keeps you hooked to the characters hunting for truth in a world that isn’t kind. Full review on Satchel Notes

Black River is such a fantastic and poignant book. The message behind this murder mystery comes across very strongly with no doubt at all regarding the meaning and purpose of the story. I thought that the opening scenes were particularly strong and really caught my attention. After reading about what happens to the young girl Munia, there is no way you can put the book down as the investigation into her death evolves. Beautifully written and unexpectedly moving, highly recommended.

This is a moving book where the story builds slowly as you get to know the characters. On the face of it it is a thriller, but it isn't a fast moving page turner. It is the lives and histories of the characters that are the draw for this book, not the solving of the crime. A beautifully written social commentary with descriptions that bring the small village of Teetarpur alive. There is a murder, but the book is not really a whodunnit.

Black River by Nilanjana Roy revolves around the callous murder of a young girl,Munia, in the village of Teetarpur outside Delhi. The girl is known and loved by the villagers, most of whom have watched her grow up. A traumatised Muslim man,Mansoor, is on the scene when Munia's body is discovered and the predominantly Hindu residents assume that he's the murderer. Local policeman Ombir Singh is charged with investigating a crime that irate locals don't feel needs much investigation but despite this a hotshot senior investigator is sent from Delhi to take charge.

This is a lot more than just a murder mystery, author Roy brings alive the reality of the squalor and poverty of life for India's lower classes and the endemic corruption. In Teetarpur while most locals scratch a living ,local "Godfather" Jolly Singh lives a life of luxury and in Delhi squatter camps are bulldozed to make space for luxury apartments.
A large part of the book is Munia's father Chand's story and his life in the shanties of Delhi reads like a Steinbeck novel.

As well as great story this is an excellent piece of writing,it's often moving,sometimes horrific and a damning indictment of attitudes in India towards women,the dispossessed and the Muslim minority and the often brutal behaviour they all have to endure.
An exceptional book.

The opening paragraph brilliantly sets the scene, atmosphere and themes of the book: corruption, rottenness that cannot wholly be eradicated, the tension that can break into conflagration at any moment. Set in a small village outside Delhi, there is a murder in the foreground but it feels more like a structuring device in order to explore the social landscape.

That said, when so many novels centred on a crime are not necessarily emotive, I was so devastated by the opening killing after seeing Chand and Munia together that I almost didn't want to read on. However, the initial police investigation gets sidelined for some time as Chand thinks back over his life, essentially a long flashback that, at times, made me think of A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry, of people struggling to find a life when the odds are stacked against them.

We do return to the police and there's not much mystery about the killer but I think the intention was always wider than that. Which may mean that readers coming to this looking for a thriller may be disappointed - which would be a shame.

What I especially like is the intimate glimpses of life: the everyday misogyny always teetering on the edge of violence, the harassment of Muslims, what life is like in a small Indian village away from the big cities.

Roy's writing is generally low key and evenly paced without the racing excitement of the thriller genre. The deeper emotional mood worked for me but I'm not convinced that marketing this as a 'thriller' is attentive to where the interests of the book really lie.