Set primarily in India and spanning the twentieth century, Filming tells a series of stories, including that of one-time prostitute Durga, who is persuaded to give away her young son, Ashok, and that of Saleem, the son of a prostitute and two-times star of the silver screen. As these stories intertwine and overlap, they combine to create a novel that is simultaneously about the small details and the bigger picture, weaving together major historical events – including Partition, the assassination of Gandhi, the rise of photography and the Bombay film industry, and the development of barbed wire – with the everyday moments that make up the fabric of our lives.‘Its plot, like a Bollywood melodrama, teems with characters and incident’ Guardian‘Elegantly structured and taut with understated passion, Filming is a brilliant recreation of the lost world of early cinema and the continuing tragedy of religious hatred . . . Its delights as well as its message should find admiring readers everywhere’ Independent ‘Absorbing . . . Filming is distinguished by its ambition, its structural inventiveness and its highly evocative prose’ TLS‘Underpinning this intriguing novel is a concern for the truth . . . In keeping with Khair’s pertinent and thought-provoking musings on self-deception, its skill lies in making us question our assumptions about what we do and why we do it’ New Statesman

Set primarily in India and spanning the twentieth century, Filming tells a series of stories, including that of one-time prostitute Durga, who is persuaded to give away her young son, Ashok, and that of Saleem, the son of a prostitute and two-times star of the silver screen. As these stories intertwine and overlap, they combine to create a novel that is simultaneously about the small details and the bigger picture, weaving together major historical events – including Partition, the assassination of Gandhi, the rise of photography and the Bombay film industry, and the development of barbed wire – with the everyday moments that make up the fabric of our lives.‘Its plot, like a Bollywood melodrama, teems with characters and incident’ Guardian‘Elegantly structured and taut with understated passion, Filming is a brilliant recreation of the lost world of early cinema and the continuing tragedy of religious hatred . . . Its delights as well as its message should find admiring readers everywhere’ Independent ‘Absorbing . . . Filming is distinguished by its ambition, its structural inventiveness and its highly evocative prose’ TLS‘Underpinning this intriguing novel is a concern for the truth . . . In keeping with Khair’s pertinent and thought-provoking musings on self-deception, its skill lies in making us question our assumptions about what we do and why we do it’ New Statesman

Set primarily in India and spanning the twentieth century, Filming tells a series of stories, including that of one-time prostitute Durga, who is persuaded to give away her young son, Ashok, and that of Saleem, the son of a prostitute and two-times star of the silver screen. As these stories intertwine and overlap, they combine to create a novel that is simultaneously about the small details and the bigger picture, weaving together major historical events – including Partition, the assassination of Gandhi, the rise of photography and the Bombay film industry, and the development of barbed wire – with the everyday moments that make up the fabric of our lives.‘Its plot, like a Bollywood melodrama, teems with characters and incident’ Guardian‘Elegantly structured and taut with understated passion, Filming is a brilliant recreation of the lost world of early cinema and the continuing tragedy of religious hatred . . . Its delights as well as its message should find admiring readers everywhere’ Independent ‘Absorbing . . . Filming is distinguished by its ambition, its structural inventiveness and its highly evocative prose’ TLS‘Underpinning this intriguing novel is a concern for the truth . . . In keeping with Khair’s pertinent and thought-provoking musings on self-deception, its skill lies in making us question our assumptions about what we do and why we do it’ New Statesman