The Election is Omar Shahid Hamid at his most mischievous. If his earlier novels often felt like sharp noir interrogations of crime, violence, and institutional decay, this one feels like he decided to loosen his tie, lean back, and say: “Fine. Let’s laugh at the circus—because crying would take too long.” The result is a political satire that reads briskly, smirks knowingly, and never pretends that Pakistan’s electoral theatre is meant to be taken at face value.
The plot moves fast, the characters move faster, and everyone seems to be running for something—office, relevance, survival, or just the exit. Hamid populates the novel with politicians who are transparently absurd yet uncomfortably familiar, bureaucrats who believe they are the last sane adults in the room, and fixers who understand democracy mostly as a contact sport. No one is entirely innocent, but everyone is entertaining.
What makes The Election work is Hamid’s controlled irreverence. He does not descend into slapstick or cartoon villainy; instead, the humour is dry, observational, and edged with professional cynicism. You can almost hear the author smiling quietly as institutions solemnly trip over themselves. The jokes land because they are rooted in recognition—this is satire that assumes the reader has lived through press conferences, watched results crawl across TV screens, and felt the peculiar exhaustion of being promised change for the fifteenth time.
Stylistically, the prose is clean and economical. Hamid does not linger where momentum would suffer. Chapters move like news cycles: quick bursts of urgency followed by moments of reflective disbelief. Even when the novel brushes up against darker realities—coercion, compromise, quiet threats—it never loses its lightness of touch. This is not a moral sermon disguised as fiction; it is a knowing wink delivered with professional polish.
Compared to heavier political novels, The Election is refreshingly unserious about its seriousness. It does not claim to diagnose Pakistan’s democratic failures, nor does it pretend that exposure alone will cure them. Its achievement lies elsewhere: it captures the vibe of an election season—the noise, the manoeuvring, the overconfidence, the selective amnesia—with enough humour to keep the reader turning pages and enough truth to sting just a little.
In short, The Election is like watching politics from the back row with a cup of tea and low expectations: you know how it ends, but the commentary makes the experience worthwhile. It is sharp without being cruel, funny without being frivolous, and cynical in the most earned, Pakistani way possible. If democracy is a performance, Omar Shahid Hamid has written an excellent backstage comedy