THE LAST SONG OF DUSK
By Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi
Published in hardback (25 March 2004)
by Weidenfeld & Nicolson
Guide Price £12.99
ISBN 0297847570

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'The Last Song of Dusk' is a sparkling and refreshingly original take on the 'Indian' novel, by a hugely talented young debut novelist. It's unlike anything that's come out of India before, and is fresh, hip, fun, profound and sharp. It's a book about karma and colonisation; about love, fate and the healing powers of music. Already sold in heated auctions in India, France, Germany and Italy the first publication here in the UK marks the arrival of a startling new voice and a storyteller in the truest sense.

Set in colonial India, 'The Last Song of Dusk' follows the fortunes of a young woman, Anuradha, whose fabled beauty is such that the peacocks of Udaipur gather to bid her farewell as she journeys to meet her groom, Vardhmaan, in Bombay. Anuradha's bittersweet story intertwines with that of her cousin Nandini - a seductive orphan with a dark heart, a penchant for panthers and an extraordinary gift for painting - and with the secret history and slow-burning revenge of a house.

Written in technicolour, Bollywood prose, this is a magical piece of storytelling; a novel that pirouettes between laughter and heartbreak. With all the colour, smells and atmosphere of India 'The Last Song of Dusk' is a totally original tale of fate, love, tragedy and the strength of human spirit.

ABOUT SIDDARTH DHANVANT SHANGHVI

Born in 1977, until the age of 14, Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi dossed in a treehouse in the back of his house in Bombay. Keeping him company were the books of Rainer Maria Rilke, Michael Ondaatje and Toni Morrison: he didn't just read their novels, he wrote them out, page by page, comma for comma. No wonder, then, that he was a renowned failure at school where his sixth grade teacher pencilled in his report card "Siddharth, with his acidic tongue, keeps his peers miles away". When many mothers cribbed that Siddharth was filling the heads of their kids 'with all kinds of filthy ideas', his teacher sequestered him to the back of the class. Growing up friendless and alone, he dreamed up stories to animate his vacant world: wild-hearted, fragrant stories. His only chums were the pets that gamely took him on: a rhesus monkey (who later died of rabies); four guinea pigs; and a black goat called Madame Cama.

His genius for being a loser haunted him through college, which, incidentally, he saw very little of since he was busy running a catering outfit called Le Decadent (he ultimately abandoned it since far too many housewives censured, 'Well, that pasta is good - but, if I may say so, it could use a little chilli sauce.") He spent his summers at the foot of the Himalayas, amid hash addicts and Californian 'seekers' - or in England, where he worked as a kennel boy at a farm near Nottingham. He came to London at age 21 to get a master's degree; he lived in Harrow, on baked beans and chapattis. Because he never had money to go out, one of his friends offered to pay for his drinks in return for a story. He obliged - and that was where his novel The Last Song of Dusk first struck root.

Shanghvi went back to India where he wrote for Elle India. He then traded Bombay's frenzy for San Jose, California, where, at the height of the Internet Era he overheard such maxims: "Like, hello, I wanna retire at 24". To keep himself from killing his American professors he edited his novel during lectures. At 25, having wrapped up his second masters, he returned to India perfectly qualified to do nothing at all. Although he occasionally contributed to the San Francisco Chronicle on the AIDS epidemic in India - a subject fiercely close to his heart - his mother insisted he open a pizza parlour ("Everyone is ordering them these days"). Two months later, he sent his novel to an agent in London; in the next few weeks, The Last Song of Dusk was sold in several countries. Shanghvi is unspeakably relieved that he will not be baking pizzas in Bombay city, where he continues to live.

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