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BOY OF FIRE AND EARTH
Born of a smokeless fire, and raised in Karachi, Wahid’s life comes apart when he loses the girl he loves to vengeful djinns. Setting out on a journey to recover her soul and find out the truth of his own origins, he is accompanied by Iblis, the Devil himself. Together, they traverse a city infested with corrupt cops and hustling beggars, and discover deathly creatures lurking under its sinister surface, even as the threat of Judgement Day looms large.
Sami Shah’s Boy of Fire and Earth is a dark, and often funny, novel of great imagination and power.
279 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 23, 2019
2 people are currently reading
186 people want to read
About the author
Sami Shah
12 books110 followersSami Shah is a multi-award winning comedian, writer, journalist and broadcaster.
Sami’s autobiography, I, Migrant, was nominated for the NSW Premier's Literary Award, the WA Premier's Literary Award, and the Russell Prize for Humour Writing.
He has also written Boy of Fire and Earth, a critically acclaimed urban fantasy novel, and Islamic Republic of Australia, a non-fiction exploration of religious belief.
Sami has also contributed multiple essays and short stories to various anthologies and collections, and most recently wrote the satirical Gadfly column for The Saturday Paper.
Sami Shah is the Ambassador-at-Large for PEN Melbourne
Sami’s autobiography, I, Migrant, was nominated for the NSW Premier's Literary Award, the WA Premier's Literary Award, and the Russell Prize for Humour Writing.
He has also written Boy of Fire and Earth, a critically acclaimed urban fantasy novel, and Islamic Republic of Australia, a non-fiction exploration of religious belief.
Sami has also contributed multiple essays and short stories to various anthologies and collections, and most recently wrote the satirical Gadfly column for The Saturday Paper.
Sami Shah is the Ambassador-at-Large for PEN Melbourne
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 30 reviews
September 14, 2018
Meet the djinns of Karachi
Could you ever imagine a full-blown fantasy novel set in the murky underbelly of modern-day Karachi? A fantasy novel rooted in Islamic concept of heaven and hell? A fantasy novel where the archetype of evil itself, Iblis (The Devil of The Bible) makes an appearance as a lovable rogue?
Perhaps not, especially in the context of today’s polarising attitude to the religion itself. This is one of the reasons what makes Sami Shah’s incredible Boy of Fire and Earth such a joy to read. It takes you back to the days of Arabian Nights and Dastan-e-Amir Hamza, via of course, the western import of video games, comic books and the all-encompassing influence of Neil Gaiman.
For a while, modern South Asian writing is flirting with creating its own brand of fantasy fiction mixing local fantasy elements with established western tropes, as Ashok Banker did recently in Awaken. However, this concoction never felt so original as it does in this book. This is perhaps because Shah prepares you by setting up the rules before he unveils his big adventure.
So we meet our intrepid hero Wahid, a sickly but smart middle school teenager with just two close friends who share his love for science fiction and video games. He falls in love with a classmate and his friends begin experimenting with drinks, as occasional gun fires and bomb blasts continues to rock parts of Karachi. It’s the real deal and life is good, until Wahid meets with a car accident, sees his friend die and witnesses his would-be girlfriend’s soul being sucked away from her body by a shadowy figure.
Until is point, this A-story is peppered with off-hand reference to Wahid’s mysterious origin and tales of djinns, how they possess people and how Wahid’s touch can burn a djinn, a being made up of smokeless fire. Then the car cash brings Wahid face-to-face with the shadowy world and here Shah finally unveils his grand adventure.
This setup pays off and how! We meet a university professor who wants to harness the power of djinns to create nuclear energy. We meet an assassin, a clear nod to the Albino character from Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, but more dangerous. We meet the King of Karachi, a teenage bagger boy, who knows where to find the djinns. Then we go to heaven, or rather limbo with the dead awaiting their judgment. The day has to arrive yet. It will once this world ends. We meet Dajjal, the creature who will bring about Qayamat. And we meet Iblis, who has a special connection to Wahid and who has a special interest in bringing about Qayamat sooner than it is predicted. As you would have already guessed, it is Wahid who will hold the key to the apocalypse and it is he who must stop it.
As the adventure takes hold and you start turning the pages, what impresses you is how immersive a world Shah has created here. Everything here is explained in simple and clear terms and everything is rooted in the established reality of the book, and Shah’s matter-of-fact narration only adds to the realness of this adventure. The Boy of Fire and Earth is the best example of a South Asian fantasy novel yet.
{The Review first appeared in Sakal Times, Pune.}
Could you ever imagine a full-blown fantasy novel set in the murky underbelly of modern-day Karachi? A fantasy novel rooted in Islamic concept of heaven and hell? A fantasy novel where the archetype of evil itself, Iblis (The Devil of The Bible) makes an appearance as a lovable rogue?
Perhaps not, especially in the context of today’s polarising attitude to the religion itself. This is one of the reasons what makes Sami Shah’s incredible Boy of Fire and Earth such a joy to read. It takes you back to the days of Arabian Nights and Dastan-e-Amir Hamza, via of course, the western import of video games, comic books and the all-encompassing influence of Neil Gaiman.
For a while, modern South Asian writing is flirting with creating its own brand of fantasy fiction mixing local fantasy elements with established western tropes, as Ashok Banker did recently in Awaken. However, this concoction never felt so original as it does in this book. This is perhaps because Shah prepares you by setting up the rules before he unveils his big adventure.
So we meet our intrepid hero Wahid, a sickly but smart middle school teenager with just two close friends who share his love for science fiction and video games. He falls in love with a classmate and his friends begin experimenting with drinks, as occasional gun fires and bomb blasts continues to rock parts of Karachi. It’s the real deal and life is good, until Wahid meets with a car accident, sees his friend die and witnesses his would-be girlfriend’s soul being sucked away from her body by a shadowy figure.
Until is point, this A-story is peppered with off-hand reference to Wahid’s mysterious origin and tales of djinns, how they possess people and how Wahid’s touch can burn a djinn, a being made up of smokeless fire. Then the car cash brings Wahid face-to-face with the shadowy world and here Shah finally unveils his grand adventure.
This setup pays off and how! We meet a university professor who wants to harness the power of djinns to create nuclear energy. We meet an assassin, a clear nod to the Albino character from Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, but more dangerous. We meet the King of Karachi, a teenage bagger boy, who knows where to find the djinns. Then we go to heaven, or rather limbo with the dead awaiting their judgment. The day has to arrive yet. It will once this world ends. We meet Dajjal, the creature who will bring about Qayamat. And we meet Iblis, who has a special connection to Wahid and who has a special interest in bringing about Qayamat sooner than it is predicted. As you would have already guessed, it is Wahid who will hold the key to the apocalypse and it is he who must stop it.
As the adventure takes hold and you start turning the pages, what impresses you is how immersive a world Shah has created here. Everything here is explained in simple and clear terms and everything is rooted in the established reality of the book, and Shah’s matter-of-fact narration only adds to the realness of this adventure. The Boy of Fire and Earth is the best example of a South Asian fantasy novel yet.
{The Review first appeared in Sakal Times, Pune.}
August 26, 2018
4.5 stars
So the description at the back of the book or on Goodreads is better than anything I could have written. But i will add to it by saying - its a fantasy book that is based out of contemporary Karachi seeped in local folklore and Islamic religion. The book is divided into 2 parts - Fire Boy and Earth Boy. That is how its published in Australia. When published in India - its been put together as 1 book.
I absolutely LOVED this book. An an avid reader in Pakistan, there is absolutely nothing out there that I know of that is based on local culture and societal norms of the things I grew up in. Does that make this review a little biased - yea i guess so. But so what - we all have our biases. This one is mine.
I loved the creativity behind this novel. Sami Shah's mind is a strange, odd, kind of terrifying place that brings a fresh perspective to a coming of age story. This novel while not being a character driven story - is an intricate and critical analysis of society and the role of religion at large in Pakistan. Its definitely action oriented and fast paced - but does not have empty hollow characters. There is a scene where "God" is shown as an emaciated man in man-made shackles and chains was quite a shock and thinly layered metaphor for how religion wielded in Pakistan. I enjoyed another section in the novel where Shah mentions - how the Quran remains the same, but the interpretations evolve over time. Before it was an interpretation of scientific discovery and innovation and now its interpretations have become more literal and static and at times suffocating.
The second part of the book is like an acid trip and for some reason oddly reminded me of the slaughterhouse-five by Kurt Vonnegut. Wahid goes through a portal into a new world and this is where Shah's creatively shines at its finest. Through a series of bizarre adventures, Wahid strives to find out who he is.
The Djhinns were awesome. Sami Shah created a whole hierarchical order and culture to them. They are amorous, ominous and fascinating. I enjoyed reading about all the stories I heard growing up as a kid about trees and old abandoned places. My favorite character was definitely Baadshah. Damn he was badass. The thoughts about humanity at the end of the book was a nice touch.
I do wish there were stronger female characters. I would love to see more of Maheen and Mumtaz in this book. They were a bit lackluster and definitely sidelined.
I really do hope Sami Shah decides to extend Wahids adventure in future installments
So the description at the back of the book or on Goodreads is better than anything I could have written. But i will add to it by saying - its a fantasy book that is based out of contemporary Karachi seeped in local folklore and Islamic religion. The book is divided into 2 parts - Fire Boy and Earth Boy. That is how its published in Australia. When published in India - its been put together as 1 book.
I absolutely LOVED this book. An an avid reader in Pakistan, there is absolutely nothing out there that I know of that is based on local culture and societal norms of the things I grew up in. Does that make this review a little biased - yea i guess so. But so what - we all have our biases. This one is mine.
I loved the creativity behind this novel. Sami Shah's mind is a strange, odd, kind of terrifying place that brings a fresh perspective to a coming of age story. This novel while not being a character driven story - is an intricate and critical analysis of society and the role of religion at large in Pakistan. Its definitely action oriented and fast paced - but does not have empty hollow characters. There is a scene where "God" is shown as an emaciated man in man-made shackles and chains was quite a shock and thinly layered metaphor for how religion wielded in Pakistan. I enjoyed another section in the novel where Shah mentions - how the Quran remains the same, but the interpretations evolve over time. Before it was an interpretation of scientific discovery and innovation and now its interpretations have become more literal and static and at times suffocating.
The second part of the book is like an acid trip and for some reason oddly reminded me of the slaughterhouse-five by Kurt Vonnegut. Wahid goes through a portal into a new world and this is where Shah's creatively shines at its finest. Through a series of bizarre adventures, Wahid strives to find out who he is.
The Djhinns were awesome. Sami Shah created a whole hierarchical order and culture to them. They are amorous, ominous and fascinating. I enjoyed reading about all the stories I heard growing up as a kid about trees and old abandoned places. My favorite character was definitely Baadshah. Damn he was badass. The thoughts about humanity at the end of the book was a nice touch.
I do wish there were stronger female characters. I would love to see more of Maheen and Mumtaz in this book. They were a bit lackluster and definitely sidelined.
I really do hope Sami Shah decides to extend Wahids adventure in future installments
September 22, 2017
Published in The Friday Times on September 22 2017
http://www.thefridaytimes.com/tft/the...
When Wahid, the titular protagonist of Sami Shah’s rollicking horror-fantasy novel Boy of Fire and Earth, complains that the fantastical creatures he is encountering are not of the dragons, orcs and wizards variety, of which he is intimately familiar because of his love for Western fantasy novels and the Dungeons and Dragons game he plays with his friends, Iblis – the Devil himself, who happens to be Wahid’s travel companion – quips, “Your complaint is that you cannot deal with the creatures you have met? But why not? They are of your own people, are they not? Dragons and orcs and such are of foreign lands…djinns, chudails, even me – we are all things that you are supposed to believe in.” It’s a fair point that the Devil is raising: one that will resonate with a certain type of Pakistani youth that grew up hearing urban legends of chudails with their feet turned the other way and folklore of djinn that live in trees and fall in love with girls with long hair, but who associate fantasy as a genre solely with Western narratives such as Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Despite the fact that there is a strong tradition of fantasy narratives in South Asia (after all, the world’s first and longest magical fantasy epic is Urdu’s Tilism-e-Hoshruba), there is a disconnect between these two kinds of fantastical stories – one associated with horror stories you would swap with friends in the dead of night, and the other with the stories found in the pages of a traditional Western fantasy novel. Sami Shah, in his novel of a half-djinn, half-human teenage boy suddenly drawn into the supernatural underbelly of Karachi (and beyond), bridges this disconnect with aplomb. He brings in creatures of all shades and sizes, steeped in South Asian tales and Muslim folklore, in a Chosen One tale common to many Western fantasy narratives.
Wahid is a regular teenager growing up in Karachi, living a comfortable, sheltered life – worrying about his A-levels exams, playing video games and reading comic books with his friends Hamza and Arif, and trying to build up the nerve to talk to Maheen, the cute girl in his Physics tuition classes. Then, abruptly, a deadly car crash after returning from a party turns Wahid’s life upside down: his friend is dead, the girl he has a crush on is in a coma and vengeful djinns suddenly seem to be bent on killing him. Setting off on a quest to recover Maheen’s soul, which has been taken by the djinns, and trying to find the truth behind his own origins, Wahid stumbles upon a supernatural world existing in Karachi, under his very nose, and from there to another world altogether. In his search for answers, Wahid comes across all manners of terrifying beings, both mythic (Pichal Pairees that haunt the beaches of Hawkes Bay, djinns that frequent a mithai shop at Sindhi Muslim, the aforementioned snarky Iblis who takes Wahid to Kaf, the world of djinn which is inhabited by, among others, the Yajuj-Majuj and the ghost of Alexander the Great) and human (a spunky feral street child known as the Badshah, the King of Karachi, a sadistic assassin that frequents a mosque after every kill, a Physics professor at Karachi University with a strange fascination with djinns).
The biggest strength of the novel is the rich, fascinating world that Shah has created, deftly heightening Karachi’s bustle and darkness by intertwining it with supernatural forms of sinister threats. The demons – both human and un-human – that Shah brings to life feel right at home in the sprawling chaos of Karachi, from the ragged splendour of Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazaar to the twisty, cramped streets of Tariq Road. Looking at Karachi through a horror/urban fantasy lens is a particularly effective choice; the gore and surrealism of the genre fits the manic and absurd energy of the city like a glove. It feels both ludicrous and strangely plausible that the security establishment’s obsession with foreign enemies would lead them to have diplomatic relations with the world of djinn, or that Dajjal’s minions would be behind the 2011 attack on a naval base. When, in the latter half of the novel, the action moves to Kaf, another world altogether which is no less rich or fascinating, the reader might nevertheless miss the demon-infested Karachi that Wahid left behind.
The compelling world-building of the novel makes its other shortcomings more palatable – the narrative could use a little tightening (many events seem largely episodic instead of tied together cohesively), the characters could use more fleshing out (the villains are squarely in the camp of pure evil, with little nuance to their motivations) and Shah has a tendency to lean a little too heavily on the blood and gore (the multiple, drawn-out torture scenes get off-putting and repetitive after a while). Moreover, the masculine world that Shah has created has very little room for dynamic female characters; Maheen is nothing more than the prize that Wahid is aiming for at the end of his quest, with no personality or interiority of her own, and the few other female characters populating the narrative all fall, problematically, in the evil hag/innocent victim dichotomy. Still, the boldness of Shah’s imagination makes it easier to let these weaknesses slide. It also helps that the novel is infused with humour (“Wahid wondered why there were suddenly so many kings in his life. Did the supernatural worlds not have democratically elected governments, with presidents and prime ministers elected through a parliamentary system?”), and that it manages to touch upon, in interesting ways, issues of religious intolerance, growing fanaticism and the poverty and corruption that infests the streets of Karachi and beyond. ,Boy of Fire and Earth is a fun page-turner, and an exciting harbinger of a revival of local, South Asian fantasy that feels at once thrillingly fresh and satisfyingly familiar.
http://www.thefridaytimes.com/tft/the...
When Wahid, the titular protagonist of Sami Shah’s rollicking horror-fantasy novel Boy of Fire and Earth, complains that the fantastical creatures he is encountering are not of the dragons, orcs and wizards variety, of which he is intimately familiar because of his love for Western fantasy novels and the Dungeons and Dragons game he plays with his friends, Iblis – the Devil himself, who happens to be Wahid’s travel companion – quips, “Your complaint is that you cannot deal with the creatures you have met? But why not? They are of your own people, are they not? Dragons and orcs and such are of foreign lands…djinns, chudails, even me – we are all things that you are supposed to believe in.” It’s a fair point that the Devil is raising: one that will resonate with a certain type of Pakistani youth that grew up hearing urban legends of chudails with their feet turned the other way and folklore of djinn that live in trees and fall in love with girls with long hair, but who associate fantasy as a genre solely with Western narratives such as Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Despite the fact that there is a strong tradition of fantasy narratives in South Asia (after all, the world’s first and longest magical fantasy epic is Urdu’s Tilism-e-Hoshruba), there is a disconnect between these two kinds of fantastical stories – one associated with horror stories you would swap with friends in the dead of night, and the other with the stories found in the pages of a traditional Western fantasy novel. Sami Shah, in his novel of a half-djinn, half-human teenage boy suddenly drawn into the supernatural underbelly of Karachi (and beyond), bridges this disconnect with aplomb. He brings in creatures of all shades and sizes, steeped in South Asian tales and Muslim folklore, in a Chosen One tale common to many Western fantasy narratives.
Wahid is a regular teenager growing up in Karachi, living a comfortable, sheltered life – worrying about his A-levels exams, playing video games and reading comic books with his friends Hamza and Arif, and trying to build up the nerve to talk to Maheen, the cute girl in his Physics tuition classes. Then, abruptly, a deadly car crash after returning from a party turns Wahid’s life upside down: his friend is dead, the girl he has a crush on is in a coma and vengeful djinns suddenly seem to be bent on killing him. Setting off on a quest to recover Maheen’s soul, which has been taken by the djinns, and trying to find the truth behind his own origins, Wahid stumbles upon a supernatural world existing in Karachi, under his very nose, and from there to another world altogether. In his search for answers, Wahid comes across all manners of terrifying beings, both mythic (Pichal Pairees that haunt the beaches of Hawkes Bay, djinns that frequent a mithai shop at Sindhi Muslim, the aforementioned snarky Iblis who takes Wahid to Kaf, the world of djinn which is inhabited by, among others, the Yajuj-Majuj and the ghost of Alexander the Great) and human (a spunky feral street child known as the Badshah, the King of Karachi, a sadistic assassin that frequents a mosque after every kill, a Physics professor at Karachi University with a strange fascination with djinns).
The biggest strength of the novel is the rich, fascinating world that Shah has created, deftly heightening Karachi’s bustle and darkness by intertwining it with supernatural forms of sinister threats. The demons – both human and un-human – that Shah brings to life feel right at home in the sprawling chaos of Karachi, from the ragged splendour of Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazaar to the twisty, cramped streets of Tariq Road. Looking at Karachi through a horror/urban fantasy lens is a particularly effective choice; the gore and surrealism of the genre fits the manic and absurd energy of the city like a glove. It feels both ludicrous and strangely plausible that the security establishment’s obsession with foreign enemies would lead them to have diplomatic relations with the world of djinn, or that Dajjal’s minions would be behind the 2011 attack on a naval base. When, in the latter half of the novel, the action moves to Kaf, another world altogether which is no less rich or fascinating, the reader might nevertheless miss the demon-infested Karachi that Wahid left behind.
The compelling world-building of the novel makes its other shortcomings more palatable – the narrative could use a little tightening (many events seem largely episodic instead of tied together cohesively), the characters could use more fleshing out (the villains are squarely in the camp of pure evil, with little nuance to their motivations) and Shah has a tendency to lean a little too heavily on the blood and gore (the multiple, drawn-out torture scenes get off-putting and repetitive after a while). Moreover, the masculine world that Shah has created has very little room for dynamic female characters; Maheen is nothing more than the prize that Wahid is aiming for at the end of his quest, with no personality or interiority of her own, and the few other female characters populating the narrative all fall, problematically, in the evil hag/innocent victim dichotomy. Still, the boldness of Shah’s imagination makes it easier to let these weaknesses slide. It also helps that the novel is infused with humour (“Wahid wondered why there were suddenly so many kings in his life. Did the supernatural worlds not have democratically elected governments, with presidents and prime ministers elected through a parliamentary system?”), and that it manages to touch upon, in interesting ways, issues of religious intolerance, growing fanaticism and the poverty and corruption that infests the streets of Karachi and beyond. ,Boy of Fire and Earth is a fun page-turner, and an exciting harbinger of a revival of local, South Asian fantasy that feels at once thrillingly fresh and satisfyingly familiar.
July 6, 2023
In the end, this just wasn’t for me. A lush setting, interesting mythology, and some excellent wordsmithing were ultimately let down by two-dimensional characters, a lack of real development, and a deus-ex-machina ending that felt trite and unearned. Too much sulky teenage boyness, not enough emotional connection. Felt a lot like walking through a house of horrors thick with detailed special effects only to push through the door at the end to find nothing has actually changed in my life and I can’t remember any of the faces or rooms inside. Overall, I’m not left feeling much at all other than vaguely curious about Pakistani djinn mythology.
January 26, 2019
My experience of Sami Shah is somewhat dated, but bear with me. One fine night while procrastinating over another study session or a chai-fuelled YouTube break, I chose YouTube and one funny video of Shah turned into a binge. Well, need I tell you how my clinical exam went the next day?
So, my expectations of Shah’s novel were much the same — something addictive and light: easy reading. My expectations were promptly turned on their head. While Boy of Fire and Earth is highly addictive and easy to read, it is also something more — a book that captures what it means to be a slick Pakistani Muslim in this harrowing, hostile world.
If Shah’s plucky ‘Wahid’ is anything to go by, we Pakistanis are an inventive lot. It is hard to pin us down, admittedly, but that same ability also makes us pretty annoying. Or at least that’s what the ‘djinns’ in Shah’s novel complain about — our pluckiness is a thorn in their side.
Leaving aside questions of metaphysics, faith and religion, that idea alone feels like a revelation. This is a novel that is not obsessed with weighty literary aspirations about Pakistaniat and the South Asian-ness of Monsoon, Mangroves, and Mangoes et al. Where Karachi isn’t the setting of some convoluted family drama, instead it becomes a central character in the plot to bring about the Judgment Day. Where orphans aren’t just sad news-items that show up in the chaos of a failing state, they are a lethal underground unit that operates smoothly between the worlds of jinns and humans.
Myth collides against fact against faith against mysticism, until a breathless amalgamation of a uniquely Pakistani story emerges. Where there is love, there is loss; where there is sorrow, there is a sense of wicked humour. It is this conundrum that propels the novel’s pace forward at breakneck speed, while still keeping the reader’s hand intimately on its racing pulse.
Faintly familiar characters like ‘Iblis’, ‘Dajjal’ and ‘Yuj-Majooj’ are re-encountered, ‘Koh Kaaf’ is resurrected in a way that brings to mind long summer days spent reading Taalim-o-Tarbiyat. The story is nostalgic in the best sense while also creating a hopeful anticipation for the future. ‘Wahid’ and ‘Maheen’’s story is, for me, far from over.
Word to the wise: while the protagonist is an 18-year-old boy, this is as far from Young Adult as one can possibly get. There is real violence and gore, gleefully rendered by the writer’s evocative prose. Shah is no desi Lovecraft, but in his more glorious rendition of severed body parts he comes pretty close. Still, the duology is perhaps not suitable for readers under the age of fifteen. Perhaps more precocious readers, who’ve chomped their way through the darker chapters of J. K. Rowling’s Potterverse unscathed, may find themselves comfortably at home. Time will tell.
While we may not expect a generation growing up without the influence of ‘Bil Batori’ and ‘Zakoota’, to fully appreciate this novel, I can still rest easy in the knowledge that the sheer imaginative force of this story will pull the readers in, and in doing so, may lay the groundwork of a new South Asian version of Horror and Fantasy. Perhaps the true inheritors of the legacy of Stephen King and Neil Gaiman will be reading this novel tonight, somewhere in Lahore, some place in Karachi.
While Pakistani literature is being recognised the world over for its more serious themes, it is heartening to know that more fantastical works like Shah’s are also being given their chance on the world’s stage. After all, like the girl who breathlessly says bismillah while applying her liquid eyeliner, Pakistan, too, is at a crossroads between past and future, modernity and mysticism.
Favourite Lines:
‘Somewhere in Karachi, a boy who wasn’t the king of the city, as the city itself, was smoking a cigarette while teaching another boy how to stab a man in the neck with a pen. It was the kind of lesson that would keep the student alive for longer than he would otherwise have managed.’
‘On an empty street, a woman walked in search of a man. The hem of her sari hiding her twisted feet.’
‘In a sweet shop, the owner left a tray of the finest desserts under a glass cover, knowing they would be eaten by morning.’
So, my expectations of Shah’s novel were much the same — something addictive and light: easy reading. My expectations were promptly turned on their head. While Boy of Fire and Earth is highly addictive and easy to read, it is also something more — a book that captures what it means to be a slick Pakistani Muslim in this harrowing, hostile world.
If Shah’s plucky ‘Wahid’ is anything to go by, we Pakistanis are an inventive lot. It is hard to pin us down, admittedly, but that same ability also makes us pretty annoying. Or at least that’s what the ‘djinns’ in Shah’s novel complain about — our pluckiness is a thorn in their side.
Leaving aside questions of metaphysics, faith and religion, that idea alone feels like a revelation. This is a novel that is not obsessed with weighty literary aspirations about Pakistaniat and the South Asian-ness of Monsoon, Mangroves, and Mangoes et al. Where Karachi isn’t the setting of some convoluted family drama, instead it becomes a central character in the plot to bring about the Judgment Day. Where orphans aren’t just sad news-items that show up in the chaos of a failing state, they are a lethal underground unit that operates smoothly between the worlds of jinns and humans.
Myth collides against fact against faith against mysticism, until a breathless amalgamation of a uniquely Pakistani story emerges. Where there is love, there is loss; where there is sorrow, there is a sense of wicked humour. It is this conundrum that propels the novel’s pace forward at breakneck speed, while still keeping the reader’s hand intimately on its racing pulse.
Faintly familiar characters like ‘Iblis’, ‘Dajjal’ and ‘Yuj-Majooj’ are re-encountered, ‘Koh Kaaf’ is resurrected in a way that brings to mind long summer days spent reading Taalim-o-Tarbiyat. The story is nostalgic in the best sense while also creating a hopeful anticipation for the future. ‘Wahid’ and ‘Maheen’’s story is, for me, far from over.
Word to the wise: while the protagonist is an 18-year-old boy, this is as far from Young Adult as one can possibly get. There is real violence and gore, gleefully rendered by the writer’s evocative prose. Shah is no desi Lovecraft, but in his more glorious rendition of severed body parts he comes pretty close. Still, the duology is perhaps not suitable for readers under the age of fifteen. Perhaps more precocious readers, who’ve chomped their way through the darker chapters of J. K. Rowling’s Potterverse unscathed, may find themselves comfortably at home. Time will tell.
While we may not expect a generation growing up without the influence of ‘Bil Batori’ and ‘Zakoota’, to fully appreciate this novel, I can still rest easy in the knowledge that the sheer imaginative force of this story will pull the readers in, and in doing so, may lay the groundwork of a new South Asian version of Horror and Fantasy. Perhaps the true inheritors of the legacy of Stephen King and Neil Gaiman will be reading this novel tonight, somewhere in Lahore, some place in Karachi.
While Pakistani literature is being recognised the world over for its more serious themes, it is heartening to know that more fantastical works like Shah’s are also being given their chance on the world’s stage. After all, like the girl who breathlessly says bismillah while applying her liquid eyeliner, Pakistan, too, is at a crossroads between past and future, modernity and mysticism.
Favourite Lines:
‘Somewhere in Karachi, a boy who wasn’t the king of the city, as the city itself, was smoking a cigarette while teaching another boy how to stab a man in the neck with a pen. It was the kind of lesson that would keep the student alive for longer than he would otherwise have managed.’
‘On an empty street, a woman walked in search of a man. The hem of her sari hiding her twisted feet.’
‘In a sweet shop, the owner left a tray of the finest desserts under a glass cover, knowing they would be eaten by morning.’
April 27, 2021
This was really enjoyable! It didn't wow me or blow me off my feet but it was fun, entertaining and it was fantastic to read a fantasy with non-European elements. The setting of Karachi was skillfully drawn and there were a few twists and turns I didn't see coming. The only small mark off is I felt the ending tied up a little too neatly, and a little too quickly. The pacing through this book was steady, a long slow build, but it didn't feel as if the climax quite hit the nail on the head.
Otherwise this is a really enjoyable read and I highly recommend for anyone who is interested in fantasy from an Islamic/Middle Eastern/South East Asian perspective.
Otherwise this is a really enjoyable read and I highly recommend for anyone who is interested in fantasy from an Islamic/Middle Eastern/South East Asian perspective.
November 6, 2017
I initially thought that this book had two separate parts but then I realised I have the edition with both the books in it! So excited that I didn't have to wait!
This was an amazing read! I was reluctant to start it because how would a fantasy novel be if it was written by a Pakistani author and the answer is that it exceeded expectations!
The story is based on the supernatural as it is viewed in Islam with the concept of djinns, combined with urban legends we talk about it in Pakistan. It was researched exceptionally well, written for the Pakistani audience. The connections were smooth and the context could not be more accurate. The language, the humour and the setting made me feel right at home. After a recent trip to Karachi, I could relate to it even more! Parts of this book terrified me but there parts were I genuinely laughed out loud!
Everyone! read this book; even if you are a little unfamiliar with the local jargon!
This was an amazing read! I was reluctant to start it because how would a fantasy novel be if it was written by a Pakistani author and the answer is that it exceeded expectations!
The story is based on the supernatural as it is viewed in Islam with the concept of djinns, combined with urban legends we talk about it in Pakistan. It was researched exceptionally well, written for the Pakistani audience. The connections were smooth and the context could not be more accurate. The language, the humour and the setting made me feel right at home. After a recent trip to Karachi, I could relate to it even more! Parts of this book terrified me but there parts were I genuinely laughed out loud!
Everyone! read this book; even if you are a little unfamiliar with the local jargon!
April 13, 2020
Growing up, there were always stories about djinns and churails, residing in trees, following someone at night asking for help. We, siblings, huddled close to each other as we slept. We were shit scared. Many many years later, I realised it was a ploy to scare us so we never asked for our own rooms (there were six of us in a two bedroom apartment).
Until now, that is. Shah has brought back all those stories back for me. And made it really real. Last night, I woke up in a sweat thinking there was a churail standing at the foot of my bed. In hindsight, I shouldn't have read it just like I don't watch horror movies. But how could I not? I was drawn to this book as I stood in one of the most beautiful bookstores in Karachi. I had to have it. Now I just have to make sure to keep my hair always short, tied, not stand under any old trees, squeeze my eyes really tight at night if I wake up suddenly (even when I have to use the toilet) and hopefully those djinns won't trouble me.
Until now, that is. Shah has brought back all those stories back for me. And made it really real. Last night, I woke up in a sweat thinking there was a churail standing at the foot of my bed. In hindsight, I shouldn't have read it just like I don't watch horror movies. But how could I not? I was drawn to this book as I stood in one of the most beautiful bookstores in Karachi. I had to have it. Now I just have to make sure to keep my hair always short, tied, not stand under any old trees, squeeze my eyes really tight at night if I wake up suddenly (even when I have to use the toilet) and hopefully those djinns won't trouble me.
April 29, 2019
Incredibly glad to have found an author who is inspired by the hindostaani myths and Islaamiyat and make an amazing horror/adventure story out of it. Although I found the ending to be a bit rushed and abrupt - I felt Sami had cornered the characters somewhere even he couldn't bring the them out of other than forcing them - it is B absolutely eerie novel. There are several parts which chilled me. The prose flows smoothly and without any interruption.
I love that this novel is more than just something to enjoy. This book is filled with so many new things that I got inspired from. This is a story that is not only entertaining but also so much content that it inspires you to create something too.
An extremely good book and I highly recommend it.
I love that this novel is more than just something to enjoy. This book is filled with so many new things that I got inspired from. This is a story that is not only entertaining but also so much content that it inspires you to create something too.
An extremely good book and I highly recommend it.
October 24, 2019
I think the most obvious complaint about this book is the ending. For a duology, it offers literally no closure in any of the plots, leaving everything not open-ended, but rather just… drifting. The ending doesn’t even have the decency of a cliff hanger, and sort of just hangs there. It’s as if Sami Shah wrote a whole novel, then flipped it open roughly in the middle and decided to turn it into a duology (which, it turns out, is actually what happened, since according to
this interview it was initially written as a single novel, then split into a duology by the Australian publishers. It was later printed as a single novel by the Indian publisher).
That noticeable problem aside, this is actually a fascinating attempt at South Asian fantasy, and that’s primarily because of the setting. As a Karachiite born and bred, I have an obvious fondness for stories set in this city, but that doesn’t mean just any story will do. Sometimes the writing can be atrocious, or the characters flat and pointless, and then even the setting isn’t enough of a saving grace. That disappointment thankfully doesn’t arise in Fire Boy, because Sami Shah – following in the likes of works by Kamila Shamsie – writes about Karachi like it’s a character. The city is alive, and filled with the most amazing sort of creatures bound to inhabit a place so dark and dangerous.
And by amazing I meant creepy and familiar, two combinations I have had very limited experience with in the literature world. As far as urban fantasy goes, South Asia has very rarely been the location for such stories. This makes Sami Shah’s novel, which brings literally every desi horror story character into the plot, so very dear to me and my poor unrepresented heart. While the canon for most avid Pakistani readers has been a western setting of elves, orcs, dwarves and white men trudging around dragon-infested lands, Shah ignores all of that in favour of djinns and churails, supernatural entities that one hears of more commonly in Pakistan in casual conversations, or during late night sleepovers.
Wahid was seven years old when he saw his first djinn.
Keeping the conversation of whether to spell it as djinn or jinn aside for now, this book introduces us to all these paranormal creatures through the eyes of one Wahid, a teenager whose time is filled with hanging out with his two best friends, worrying about his board exams, and thinking about Maheen, a girl he has a crush on. As a protagonist, Wahid is both whiny and funny, sometimes a pointless character and then back to being an active participant in his story, fluctuating wildly between a character I cared about or someone who was only a conduit for the story Shah wanted to tell. Following the tried and tested trope of The Hero’s Journey, Shah throws Wahid’s life into a tail spin when, on his way home from a party, Wahid along with Maheen and one of his best friends Amir, encounters a fatal accident at the hand of a couple of djinn. When these djinn steal Maheen’s soul, Wahid sets out on a journey to get it back, encountering characters such as the Physics professor trying to channel djinn energy or the young street child known as the King of Karachi, all leading him along a path from where he might trace a lost soul, all the while knowing no one will believe him.
These things happen. They happen all the time, in fact. And they care not a whit whether we believe in them.
I think an obvious flaw, and one that has been pointed out in numerous other places, is the fact that the women in this story are basically, well, pointless. They exist only in terms of moving the hero’s story forward, and have absolutely no agency. This is not to say that the book itself is misogynistic – Shah makes it a point to talk about violence against women repeatedly, adding to his narrative characters such as the pichal parree, a common Pakistani myth about a witch with backward-facing feet who in this particular story haunts Karachi’s seaside.
“I am what is left of the woman who dies at the hands of men,” she said. “I am her revenge.”
But the point still remains that Maheen, possibly the only female in this novel to serve a function (and even then for barely any significant part of the narrative), only exists solely so that Wahid can go and ‘save her’. Her soul stolen by the jinns (not even because of something she’s done, but as part of Wahid’s relationship to the supernatural) serves only as a starting point for our hero to begin his journey into the underbelly of Karachi, and eventually to the world of the jinn themselves, accompanied by the most interesting of companions.
“Who are you?”
“I,” said the figure, bowing grandiloquently, “am Azah-zeel. Some people call me Shaitan. But I prefer Iblis.”
It is only by the saving grace of filling of story with a chockful of desi supernatural entities does Sami Shah retain interest. And the brilliant thing about being one of the first ones to write these stories is that you have a lot of leeway in how to manoeuvre your fictional creations. Amongst the common myths that I’ve grown up with in Karachi is the tale of the mithai left uncovered at night in sweet shops, which jinn then come and eat, leaving empty containers for the owners to pack again for the next night. Shah incorporates all these sleepover stories into his tale, making it a part of Wahid’s journey through Karachi in search of Maheen’s soul.
The brothers protested, explaining that customers were unlikely to frequent a shop in which they would be slapped by invisible hands … The sufi gave this a great deal more thought, and finally told them to make a gift of the finest deserts they made every day to the djinn. The tree had been cut, the shop built and every day they selected the best sweets from their kitchen and made an offering of them.
My only other issue with the book might be that the violence feels gratuitous in some of the scenes. While I’m not averse to a little blood and gore, having read enough grimdark to get used to the feel, it’s always immediately obvious when it’s necessary, and in this story it’s mostly not. In most of Shah’s scenes, the violence goes overboard, with more intestines spilling out and more heads detaching from bodies than are really needed. I’m not sure why Shah does this, especially in a book that’s so clearly targeting a YA market, but the extended torture scenes could have been cut.
Overall though, the story is fascinating, both for people who’ve lived in the city, since there are ten million points of reference to life in Karachi, and also for people who’ve never encountered these specific Islamic or South Asian myths. It might not be the best thing I’ve read overall, but it does manage to hit the right notes on a number of occasions. For that, it goes on the recommended list.
**
EARTH BOY:
I can honestly say that I’m really disappointed I didn’t review this book sooner. I read it ages back and I took my sweet time procrastinating, which means I don’t remember any of the notes I made – mentally, of course – while I read it. Which now means I don’t remember all of the completely valid, very relevant things I had to say about this.
The reason this is a shame is because there’s lots and lots of stuff to talk about in this book. With its status as a rare fantasy entry in a country which primarily deals in contemporary fiction about religion and terrorism and global politics, it’s inevitable that Sami Shah’s work would produce ample material for me to pour over. Not only that, but this is a fascinating title, full of very interesting creatures that Shah has taken the time to research and incorporate.
Wahid and Iblis walked through the hole in the wall, and into another world.
I mean, take Iblis, for example. In Islamic theology, iblis is just another name for the devil, which means we start off our second part of this duology with the hero setting off on a journey into an unknown world with the devil by his side. Imagining a set-up as cool as this and then delivering is something that Shah does well, pulling in multiple other creatures into his story. However, the fact that most of the story line is largely episodic is also one of this book’s major flaws, with Wahid moving from an encounter with one creature to another completely different one. While this means that the world building itself is interesting, the narrative arc gets somewhat affected, making it weak and not holding as much interest as a single, fluid story line would have.
‘I’m scared, if that makes you feel any better.’
‘Thank you, I suppose it will have to do.’
The female characters also continue to serve absolutely no purpose, with Maheen, the girl whose soul Wahid has set out to save, existing only as a reward for the hero to attain at the end of this journey. Wahid’s mother is equally pointless, which is a sad turn of affairs, because unlike the usual clichéd formula of orphaned heroes in famous ‘Hero Journey’ stories Joseph Campbell-style (Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, etc.), our protagonist actually has a living, breathing parent who could provide solace and comfort. Conveniently, Wahid is gallivanting around looking for a lost soul for pretty much the entirety of this story, while his mother must (one guesses) run around looking for her lost son worried to death.
What also doesn’t help move our story along is the fact that Wahid is a singularly pointless character, unable to save himself in any situation whatsoever without help. Quite late in the story does the Dues ex machina kick in, with Wahid’s hitherto undiscovered powers suddenly appearing from nowhere, at the right time in conveniently the right place. In fact, a lot of times it is Wahid getting saved by either another creature, or by his suddenly discovered powers that enable him to get away unscathed. Funnily enough, for a book that fits best in the genre of bildungsroman, there is very little growth in the main character. At best, the only thing that improves in the book is the absolute variety in the creatures we meet.
‘That’s why most people probably think djinns live in lamps and grant wishes dressed in turbans. It certainly stops them fearing us. Not like they used to in the old days.’
I said it in my previous review and I feel like I should say it again: major props are due to Sami Shah for attempting to incorporate most of what desis understand about supernatural creatures, which is an overlapping of religion and culture and history into one messy, amalgamated sort of folklore we all hear about in night late story telling sessions. Even more importantly, he doesn’t get scared of referencing what one can argue is a very major proponent of all the stories Pakistanis grow up hearing: the belief that jinns are real, based on the teachings of the Quran. Given that there is a whole surah in that holy book about the creatures and how they most definitely exist, lots of Pakistani kids grow up being told that jinn aren’t a figment of an over-imaginative imagination, but rather creatures who choose to remain invisible, but who might be lurking at the very next corner. Given how huge a part the Quran plays in our beliefs in supernatural creatures, I’m glad Sami Shah has incorporated it into the dialogue as well.
‘Religion is a changing thing. It evolves, if you will. The core belief may be the same. The Quran is unchanging after all. But the interpretations? Those shift and morph according to the moods of the time.’
I really, truly can’t talk about this book anymore given that I barely remember it. But what I do remember is enjoying it, and wanting to tell my best friend to read it, if only so we could discuss it the next time we met. For that, I’m going to give this book a ‘recommended’ rating, and hope that Sami Shah continues to churn out more of the same, maybe with a slightly better protagonist. Maybe even a female one.
this interview it was initially written as a single novel, then split into a duology by the Australian publishers. It was later printed as a single novel by the Indian publisher).
That noticeable problem aside, this is actually a fascinating attempt at South Asian fantasy, and that’s primarily because of the setting. As a Karachiite born and bred, I have an obvious fondness for stories set in this city, but that doesn’t mean just any story will do. Sometimes the writing can be atrocious, or the characters flat and pointless, and then even the setting isn’t enough of a saving grace. That disappointment thankfully doesn’t arise in Fire Boy, because Sami Shah – following in the likes of works by Kamila Shamsie – writes about Karachi like it’s a character. The city is alive, and filled with the most amazing sort of creatures bound to inhabit a place so dark and dangerous.
And by amazing I meant creepy and familiar, two combinations I have had very limited experience with in the literature world. As far as urban fantasy goes, South Asia has very rarely been the location for such stories. This makes Sami Shah’s novel, which brings literally every desi horror story character into the plot, so very dear to me and my poor unrepresented heart. While the canon for most avid Pakistani readers has been a western setting of elves, orcs, dwarves and white men trudging around dragon-infested lands, Shah ignores all of that in favour of djinns and churails, supernatural entities that one hears of more commonly in Pakistan in casual conversations, or during late night sleepovers.
Wahid was seven years old when he saw his first djinn.
Keeping the conversation of whether to spell it as djinn or jinn aside for now, this book introduces us to all these paranormal creatures through the eyes of one Wahid, a teenager whose time is filled with hanging out with his two best friends, worrying about his board exams, and thinking about Maheen, a girl he has a crush on. As a protagonist, Wahid is both whiny and funny, sometimes a pointless character and then back to being an active participant in his story, fluctuating wildly between a character I cared about or someone who was only a conduit for the story Shah wanted to tell. Following the tried and tested trope of The Hero’s Journey, Shah throws Wahid’s life into a tail spin when, on his way home from a party, Wahid along with Maheen and one of his best friends Amir, encounters a fatal accident at the hand of a couple of djinn. When these djinn steal Maheen’s soul, Wahid sets out on a journey to get it back, encountering characters such as the Physics professor trying to channel djinn energy or the young street child known as the King of Karachi, all leading him along a path from where he might trace a lost soul, all the while knowing no one will believe him.
These things happen. They happen all the time, in fact. And they care not a whit whether we believe in them.
I think an obvious flaw, and one that has been pointed out in numerous other places, is the fact that the women in this story are basically, well, pointless. They exist only in terms of moving the hero’s story forward, and have absolutely no agency. This is not to say that the book itself is misogynistic – Shah makes it a point to talk about violence against women repeatedly, adding to his narrative characters such as the pichal parree, a common Pakistani myth about a witch with backward-facing feet who in this particular story haunts Karachi’s seaside.
“I am what is left of the woman who dies at the hands of men,” she said. “I am her revenge.”
But the point still remains that Maheen, possibly the only female in this novel to serve a function (and even then for barely any significant part of the narrative), only exists solely so that Wahid can go and ‘save her’. Her soul stolen by the jinns (not even because of something she’s done, but as part of Wahid’s relationship to the supernatural) serves only as a starting point for our hero to begin his journey into the underbelly of Karachi, and eventually to the world of the jinn themselves, accompanied by the most interesting of companions.
“Who are you?”
“I,” said the figure, bowing grandiloquently, “am Azah-zeel. Some people call me Shaitan. But I prefer Iblis.”
It is only by the saving grace of filling of story with a chockful of desi supernatural entities does Sami Shah retain interest. And the brilliant thing about being one of the first ones to write these stories is that you have a lot of leeway in how to manoeuvre your fictional creations. Amongst the common myths that I’ve grown up with in Karachi is the tale of the mithai left uncovered at night in sweet shops, which jinn then come and eat, leaving empty containers for the owners to pack again for the next night. Shah incorporates all these sleepover stories into his tale, making it a part of Wahid’s journey through Karachi in search of Maheen’s soul.
The brothers protested, explaining that customers were unlikely to frequent a shop in which they would be slapped by invisible hands … The sufi gave this a great deal more thought, and finally told them to make a gift of the finest deserts they made every day to the djinn. The tree had been cut, the shop built and every day they selected the best sweets from their kitchen and made an offering of them.
My only other issue with the book might be that the violence feels gratuitous in some of the scenes. While I’m not averse to a little blood and gore, having read enough grimdark to get used to the feel, it’s always immediately obvious when it’s necessary, and in this story it’s mostly not. In most of Shah’s scenes, the violence goes overboard, with more intestines spilling out and more heads detaching from bodies than are really needed. I’m not sure why Shah does this, especially in a book that’s so clearly targeting a YA market, but the extended torture scenes could have been cut.
Overall though, the story is fascinating, both for people who’ve lived in the city, since there are ten million points of reference to life in Karachi, and also for people who’ve never encountered these specific Islamic or South Asian myths. It might not be the best thing I’ve read overall, but it does manage to hit the right notes on a number of occasions. For that, it goes on the recommended list.
**
EARTH BOY:
I can honestly say that I’m really disappointed I didn’t review this book sooner. I read it ages back and I took my sweet time procrastinating, which means I don’t remember any of the notes I made – mentally, of course – while I read it. Which now means I don’t remember all of the completely valid, very relevant things I had to say about this.
The reason this is a shame is because there’s lots and lots of stuff to talk about in this book. With its status as a rare fantasy entry in a country which primarily deals in contemporary fiction about religion and terrorism and global politics, it’s inevitable that Sami Shah’s work would produce ample material for me to pour over. Not only that, but this is a fascinating title, full of very interesting creatures that Shah has taken the time to research and incorporate.
Wahid and Iblis walked through the hole in the wall, and into another world.
I mean, take Iblis, for example. In Islamic theology, iblis is just another name for the devil, which means we start off our second part of this duology with the hero setting off on a journey into an unknown world with the devil by his side. Imagining a set-up as cool as this and then delivering is something that Shah does well, pulling in multiple other creatures into his story. However, the fact that most of the story line is largely episodic is also one of this book’s major flaws, with Wahid moving from an encounter with one creature to another completely different one. While this means that the world building itself is interesting, the narrative arc gets somewhat affected, making it weak and not holding as much interest as a single, fluid story line would have.
‘I’m scared, if that makes you feel any better.’
‘Thank you, I suppose it will have to do.’
The female characters also continue to serve absolutely no purpose, with Maheen, the girl whose soul Wahid has set out to save, existing only as a reward for the hero to attain at the end of this journey. Wahid’s mother is equally pointless, which is a sad turn of affairs, because unlike the usual clichéd formula of orphaned heroes in famous ‘Hero Journey’ stories Joseph Campbell-style (Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, etc.), our protagonist actually has a living, breathing parent who could provide solace and comfort. Conveniently, Wahid is gallivanting around looking for a lost soul for pretty much the entirety of this story, while his mother must (one guesses) run around looking for her lost son worried to death.
What also doesn’t help move our story along is the fact that Wahid is a singularly pointless character, unable to save himself in any situation whatsoever without help. Quite late in the story does the Dues ex machina kick in, with Wahid’s hitherto undiscovered powers suddenly appearing from nowhere, at the right time in conveniently the right place. In fact, a lot of times it is Wahid getting saved by either another creature, or by his suddenly discovered powers that enable him to get away unscathed. Funnily enough, for a book that fits best in the genre of bildungsroman, there is very little growth in the main character. At best, the only thing that improves in the book is the absolute variety in the creatures we meet.
‘That’s why most people probably think djinns live in lamps and grant wishes dressed in turbans. It certainly stops them fearing us. Not like they used to in the old days.’
I said it in my previous review and I feel like I should say it again: major props are due to Sami Shah for attempting to incorporate most of what desis understand about supernatural creatures, which is an overlapping of religion and culture and history into one messy, amalgamated sort of folklore we all hear about in night late story telling sessions. Even more importantly, he doesn’t get scared of referencing what one can argue is a very major proponent of all the stories Pakistanis grow up hearing: the belief that jinns are real, based on the teachings of the Quran. Given that there is a whole surah in that holy book about the creatures and how they most definitely exist, lots of Pakistani kids grow up being told that jinn aren’t a figment of an over-imaginative imagination, but rather creatures who choose to remain invisible, but who might be lurking at the very next corner. Given how huge a part the Quran plays in our beliefs in supernatural creatures, I’m glad Sami Shah has incorporated it into the dialogue as well.
‘Religion is a changing thing. It evolves, if you will. The core belief may be the same. The Quran is unchanging after all. But the interpretations? Those shift and morph according to the moods of the time.’
I really, truly can’t talk about this book anymore given that I barely remember it. But what I do remember is enjoying it, and wanting to tell my best friend to read it, if only so we could discuss it the next time we met. For that, I’m going to give this book a ‘recommended’ rating, and hope that Sami Shah continues to churn out more of the same, maybe with a slightly better protagonist. Maybe even a female one.
November 2, 2019
When Wahid, the titular protagonist of Sami Shah’s rollicking horror-fantasy novel Boy of Fire and Earth, complains that the fantastical creatures he is encountering are not of the dragons, orcs and wizards variety, of which he is intimately familiar because of his love for Western fantasy novels and the Dungeons and Dragons game he plays with his friends, Iblis – the Devil himself, who happens to be Wahid’s travel companion – quips, “Your complaint is that you cannot deal with the creatures you have met? But why not? They are of your own people, are they not? Dragons and orcs and such are of foreign lands…djinns, chudails, even me – we are all things that you are supposed to believe in.” It’s a fair point that the Devil is raising: one that will resonate with a certain type of Pakistani youth that grew up hearing urban legends of chudails with their feet turned the other way and folklore of djinn that live in trees and fall in love with girls with long hair, but who associate fantasy as a genre solely with Western narratives such as Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Despite the fact that there is a strong tradition of fantasy narratives in South Asia (after all, the world’s first and longest magical fantasy epic is Urdu’s Tilism-e-Hoshruba), there is a disconnect between these two kinds of fantastical stories – one associated with horror stories you would swap with friends in the dead of night, and the other with the stories found in the pages of a traditional Western fantasy novel. Sami Shah, in his novel of a half-djinn, half-human teenage boy suddenly drawn into the supernatural underbelly of Karachi (and beyond), bridges this disconnect with aplomb. He brings in creatures of all shades and sizes, steeped in South Asian tales and Muslim folklore, in a Chosen One tale common to many Western fantasy narratives.
Wahid is a regular teenager growing up in Karachi, living a comfortable, sheltered life – worrying about his A-levels exams, playing video games and reading comic books with his friends Hamza and Arif, and trying to build up the nerve to talk to Maheen, the cute girl in his Physics tuition classes. Then, abruptly, a deadly car crash after returning from a party turns Wahid’s life upside down: his friend is dead, the girl he has a crush on is in a coma and vengeful djinns suddenly seem to be bent on killing him. Setting off on a quest to recover Maheen’s soul, which has been taken by the djinns, and trying to find the truth behind his own origins, Wahid stumbles upon a supernatural world existing in Karachi, under his very nose, and from there to another world altogether. In his search for answers, Wahid comes across all manners of terrifying beings, both mythic (Pichal Pairees that haunt the beaches of Hawkes Bay, djinns that frequent a mithai shop at Sindhi Muslim, the aforementioned snarky Iblis who takes Wahid to Kaf, the world of djinn which is inhabited by, among others, the Yajuj-Majuj and the ghost of Alexander the Great) and human (a spunky feral street child known as the Badshah, the King of Karachi, a sadistic assassin that frequents a mosque after every kill, a Physics professor at Karachi University with a strange fascination with djinns).
The biggest strength of the novel is the rich, fascinating world that Shah has created, deftly heightening Karachi’s bustle and darkness by intertwining it with supernatural forms of sinister threats. The demons – both human and un-human – that Shah brings to life feel right at home in the sprawling chaos of Karachi, from the ragged splendour of Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazaar to the twisty, cramped streets of Tariq Road. Looking at Karachi through a horror/urban fantasy lens is a particularly effective choice; the gore and surrealism of the genre fits the manic and absurd energy of the city like a glove. It feels both ludicrous and strangely plausible that the security establishment’s obsession with foreign enemies would lead them to have diplomatic relations with the world of djinn, or that Dajjal’s minions would be behind the 2011 attack on a naval base. When, in the latter half of the novel, the action moves to Kaf, another world altogether which is no less rich or fascinating, the reader might nevertheless miss the demon-infested Karachi that Wahid left behind.
The compelling world-building of the novel makes its other shortcomings more palatable – the narrative could use a little tightening (many events seem largely episodic instead of tied together cohesively), the characters could use more fleshing out (the villains are squarely in the camp of pure evil, with little nuance to their motivations) and Shah has a tendency to lean a little too heavily on the blood and gore (the multiple, drawn-out torture scenes get off-putting and repetitive after a while). Moreover, the masculine world that Shah has created has very little room for dynamic female characters; Maheen is nothing more than the prize that Wahid is aiming for at the end of his quest, with no personality or interiority of her own, and the few other female characters populating the narrative all fall, problematically, in the evil hag/innocent victim dichotomy. Still, the boldness of Shah’s imagination makes it easier to let these weaknesses slide. It also helps that the novel is infused with humour (“Wahid wondered why there were suddenly so many kings in his life. Did the supernatural worlds not have democratically elected governments, with presidents and prime ministers elected through a parliamentary system?”), and that it manages to touch upon, in interesting ways, issues of religious intolerance, growing fanaticism and the poverty and corruption that infests the streets of Karachi and beyond. Boy of Fire and Earth is a fun page-turner, and an exciting harbinger of a revival of local, South Asian fantasy that feels at once thrillingly fresh and satisfyingly familiar
Wahid is a regular teenager growing up in Karachi, living a comfortable, sheltered life – worrying about his A-levels exams, playing video games and reading comic books with his friends Hamza and Arif, and trying to build up the nerve to talk to Maheen, the cute girl in his Physics tuition classes. Then, abruptly, a deadly car crash after returning from a party turns Wahid’s life upside down: his friend is dead, the girl he has a crush on is in a coma and vengeful djinns suddenly seem to be bent on killing him. Setting off on a quest to recover Maheen’s soul, which has been taken by the djinns, and trying to find the truth behind his own origins, Wahid stumbles upon a supernatural world existing in Karachi, under his very nose, and from there to another world altogether. In his search for answers, Wahid comes across all manners of terrifying beings, both mythic (Pichal Pairees that haunt the beaches of Hawkes Bay, djinns that frequent a mithai shop at Sindhi Muslim, the aforementioned snarky Iblis who takes Wahid to Kaf, the world of djinn which is inhabited by, among others, the Yajuj-Majuj and the ghost of Alexander the Great) and human (a spunky feral street child known as the Badshah, the King of Karachi, a sadistic assassin that frequents a mosque after every kill, a Physics professor at Karachi University with a strange fascination with djinns).
The biggest strength of the novel is the rich, fascinating world that Shah has created, deftly heightening Karachi’s bustle and darkness by intertwining it with supernatural forms of sinister threats. The demons – both human and un-human – that Shah brings to life feel right at home in the sprawling chaos of Karachi, from the ragged splendour of Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazaar to the twisty, cramped streets of Tariq Road. Looking at Karachi through a horror/urban fantasy lens is a particularly effective choice; the gore and surrealism of the genre fits the manic and absurd energy of the city like a glove. It feels both ludicrous and strangely plausible that the security establishment’s obsession with foreign enemies would lead them to have diplomatic relations with the world of djinn, or that Dajjal’s minions would be behind the 2011 attack on a naval base. When, in the latter half of the novel, the action moves to Kaf, another world altogether which is no less rich or fascinating, the reader might nevertheless miss the demon-infested Karachi that Wahid left behind.
The compelling world-building of the novel makes its other shortcomings more palatable – the narrative could use a little tightening (many events seem largely episodic instead of tied together cohesively), the characters could use more fleshing out (the villains are squarely in the camp of pure evil, with little nuance to their motivations) and Shah has a tendency to lean a little too heavily on the blood and gore (the multiple, drawn-out torture scenes get off-putting and repetitive after a while). Moreover, the masculine world that Shah has created has very little room for dynamic female characters; Maheen is nothing more than the prize that Wahid is aiming for at the end of his quest, with no personality or interiority of her own, and the few other female characters populating the narrative all fall, problematically, in the evil hag/innocent victim dichotomy. Still, the boldness of Shah’s imagination makes it easier to let these weaknesses slide. It also helps that the novel is infused with humour (“Wahid wondered why there were suddenly so many kings in his life. Did the supernatural worlds not have democratically elected governments, with presidents and prime ministers elected through a parliamentary system?”), and that it manages to touch upon, in interesting ways, issues of religious intolerance, growing fanaticism and the poverty and corruption that infests the streets of Karachi and beyond. Boy of Fire and Earth is a fun page-turner, and an exciting harbinger of a revival of local, South Asian fantasy that feels at once thrillingly fresh and satisfyingly familiar
December 30, 2023
3.5
Writing felt very YA, which isn’t inherently a bad thing - but the humorous dialogue oftentimes fell short, too many pop culture references. I think the characters were promising, especially the main trio of Wahid, Hamza and Arif - but there was too little time spent on their dynamics to really delve into it.
Some characters were also laughable - i.e, Iblis. It took away suspense of disbelief, the way they acted and talked.
After reading The Golem and the Jinni, I was ready to get sucked into another city - and there were moments when the author did well of painting a picture of Karachi . I also thought the first chapter was very good. You can clearly see that the book draws inspiration from American Gods, and at one point Neil Gaiman’s name is even mentioned - and it works for this story, it does.
I liked the ending, and it even reads like a set up for a series. But I didn’t like the book enough to want to read a sequel. It’s ok if you just need something entertaining for a few hours and enjoy Islamic mythology.
Writing felt very YA, which isn’t inherently a bad thing - but the humorous dialogue oftentimes fell short, too many pop culture references. I think the characters were promising, especially the main trio of Wahid, Hamza and Arif - but there was too little time spent on their dynamics to really delve into it.
Some characters were also laughable - i.e, Iblis. It took away suspense of disbelief, the way they acted and talked.
After reading The Golem and the Jinni, I was ready to get sucked into another city - and there were moments when the author did well of painting a picture of Karachi . I also thought the first chapter was very good. You can clearly see that the book draws inspiration from American Gods, and at one point Neil Gaiman’s name is even mentioned - and it works for this story, it does.
I liked the ending, and it even reads like a set up for a series. But I didn’t like the book enough to want to read a sequel. It’s ok if you just need something entertaining for a few hours and enjoy Islamic mythology.
January 24, 2021
Interesting because of an entirely new mythical world (for a European at least) and some funny moments. It's a solid effort but not a great novel for me. The "vibrant streets of Karachi" are more like a war zone or a hell on earth, it's a wonder anyone survives there. The djinns attack at random like wild animals in our midst and there doesn't seem to be clear motivation for their actions. The plot seems unresolved, Wahid's powers randomly acquired and potent to the point where it verges on deus ex machina. I was bizarrely reminded of the old Night Stalker TV series, jumbled with Philip Pullman imagery.
February 24, 2022
I bought this book because I read and really enjoyed Sami Shah's story REAP in the anthology THE DJINN FALLS IN LOVE & OTHER STORIES. BOY OF FIRE AND EARTH did not disappoint. Frankly I'm a bit scandalised that no British publisher has taken it on yet as it is really brilliant. The hero, Wahid Husain, who is uniquely half human and half djinn, travels to the djinn world to try to rescue the soul of the girl he loves. On the way he meets some extraordinary characters including the King of Karachi and the devil himself. I read a lot of supernatural stuff, and I LOVED this. It's so different and fresh, and highly satisfying.
Read
July 31, 2021I really enjoyed this novel. It's always interesting to read something from an unfamiliar culture and I really know nothing about Pakistan or about Islam so this was a particularly fascinating novel from that perspective. I guess this would fit into the urban fantasy genre or maybe magic realism? Either way, I'm here for it. At times it was a bit gory (unnecessarily so) but overall I liked it and would recommend.
October 1, 2022
I’ve never had a more fun introduction to a mythology. Thank you Sami Shah for making a truly wonderful fantasy with such solid cultural emphasis, while it’s different to my background I found it really approachable and welcoming, as different as it is.
Read
August 30, 2025DNF really engaging writing, setting and incorporate of Muslim myth but I couldn’t handle the violence
September 17, 2021
This. Was. Excellent.
March 8, 2019
The book that was missing from the YA fantasy genre—a book about Jinns based on Islamic methology and South Asian popular culture regarding witches etc.
Wahid is a special boy. One of a kind. He is half human – half jinn (demon). Everything is going well, until the girl he fancies at school, Maheen invites him to a party. What was supposed to be one of the best days of his life ends up being one of the worst. A group of Jinns kill his friend, steals Maheen’s soul and almost kill Wahid. Except Wahid ends up killing one of them, which is supposed to be impossible. And so begins an adventure of a lifetime with special appearances from Iblis (Lucifer), Dajjal (Anti-Christ), Pichal Peri (a type of witch in South Asian pop culture) and even Yajjuj Majjuj (Gog Maggog).
I enjoyed this book immensely and found it to have added a fresh flavor to the YA fantasy genre. The fact that I had grown up with stories about some of these supernatural beliefs, it freaked me about somewhat as well (*shivers*). The whole idea of using these characters from local religious and cultural beliefs to create a fantasy story is wonderful but what made this book worthy of my rating was the Karachi flavor.
SPOILER ALERT
The “King of Karachi” badshah, is like its spirit. A poor beggar boy is aptly chosen by the city to represent it, to know it and even in a way to rule it. What is more the ambassador of humans to the Jinns and the entrance to Kaf (Jinn dimension) is also located in Karachi. Why? Perhaps the belief in the creatures is strongest in this part of the world or maybe the turmoil that has plagued the city is fueling their interest.
You are safe
I would recommend this book to all YA fantasy lovers but would especially recommend it to South Asian readers, because it takes all our scary campfire stories and blends them into a beautiful masterpiece. :D
Wahid is a special boy. One of a kind. He is half human – half jinn (demon). Everything is going well, until the girl he fancies at school, Maheen invites him to a party. What was supposed to be one of the best days of his life ends up being one of the worst. A group of Jinns kill his friend, steals Maheen’s soul and almost kill Wahid. Except Wahid ends up killing one of them, which is supposed to be impossible. And so begins an adventure of a lifetime with special appearances from Iblis (Lucifer), Dajjal (Anti-Christ), Pichal Peri (a type of witch in South Asian pop culture) and even Yajjuj Majjuj (Gog Maggog).
I enjoyed this book immensely and found it to have added a fresh flavor to the YA fantasy genre. The fact that I had grown up with stories about some of these supernatural beliefs, it freaked me about somewhat as well (*shivers*). The whole idea of using these characters from local religious and cultural beliefs to create a fantasy story is wonderful but what made this book worthy of my rating was the Karachi flavor.
SPOILER ALERT
The “King of Karachi” badshah, is like its spirit. A poor beggar boy is aptly chosen by the city to represent it, to know it and even in a way to rule it. What is more the ambassador of humans to the Jinns and the entrance to Kaf (Jinn dimension) is also located in Karachi. Why? Perhaps the belief in the creatures is strongest in this part of the world or maybe the turmoil that has plagued the city is fueling their interest.
You are safe
I would recommend this book to all YA fantasy lovers but would especially recommend it to South Asian readers, because it takes all our scary campfire stories and blends them into a beautiful masterpiece. :D
August 14, 2018
★★★☆☆ (3/5)
An entertaining read but not as compelling as I expected. The intention of the story is unclear so far. Reviews for the novel commended the story’s blend of humour and fantasy, but a hundred pages in and I yet have to come across an instance that is slightly amusing, let alone humorous or even darkly funny.
Additionally, some motivations for characters are amiss as well. Why would a mother allow her son to go on a drive (or even let him leave her side) right after a tragic car accident in which he was directly involved in? Why would some characters be announced amply, have a heavy bearing on the story and then be completely dispensed off?
The second half of the story sparked my interest, only to be muffled by a strange and rather skewed ending. The admixture of religious beliefs and fantasy is a genre not oft-explored for which this book stands alone. Whilst it is skillful in adapting core religious beliefs without much deviation (a mighty relief that was), the conclusion of the story seemed wry and forced.
An entertaining read but not as compelling as I expected. The intention of the story is unclear so far. Reviews for the novel commended the story’s blend of humour and fantasy, but a hundred pages in and I yet have to come across an instance that is slightly amusing, let alone humorous or even darkly funny.
Additionally, some motivations for characters are amiss as well. Why would a mother allow her son to go on a drive (or even let him leave her side) right after a tragic car accident in which he was directly involved in? Why would some characters be announced amply, have a heavy bearing on the story and then be completely dispensed off?
The second half of the story sparked my interest, only to be muffled by a strange and rather skewed ending. The admixture of religious beliefs and fantasy is a genre not oft-explored for which this book stands alone. Whilst it is skillful in adapting core religious beliefs without much deviation (a mighty relief that was), the conclusion of the story seemed wry and forced.
January 9, 2019
'Boy of Fire and Earth' by Sami Shah.
Originally released as two books - 'Fire Boy' and 'Earth Boy', this novel revolves around Wahid - a boy who is half-human and half-Djinn who sets upon a mission to recover the soul of a girl from the grips of vengeful Djinns.
The story carefully mixes Islamic beliefs with fantasy as well as modern elements, while being full of pop culture references. The first half of the book was quite good, but the second half fails to deliver - riddled with slow plot pacing and some generic tropes. The ending was disappointing and seemed forced especially due to the deus ex machina moments. There were moments when things were happening just because the story required them to happen.
The story and concept had a great potential, but the book failed to deliver on it. I would still recommend it as a one-time read just for the way it blends Islamic beliefs and myths into a fantasy narrative. The story seemed promising despite the flaws, and would rate it a 3.0/5.
Originally released as two books - 'Fire Boy' and 'Earth Boy', this novel revolves around Wahid - a boy who is half-human and half-Djinn who sets upon a mission to recover the soul of a girl from the grips of vengeful Djinns.
The story carefully mixes Islamic beliefs with fantasy as well as modern elements, while being full of pop culture references. The first half of the book was quite good, but the second half fails to deliver - riddled with slow plot pacing and some generic tropes. The ending was disappointing and seemed forced especially due to the deus ex machina moments. There were moments when things were happening just because the story required them to happen.
The story and concept had a great potential, but the book failed to deliver on it. I would still recommend it as a one-time read just for the way it blends Islamic beliefs and myths into a fantasy narrative. The story seemed promising despite the flaws, and would rate it a 3.0/5.
January 27, 2024
"Boy of Fire and Earth" by Sami Shah is a spellbinding urban fantasy that seamlessly melds Pakistani folklore with modern-day challenges. The story follows a young boy's journey as he discovers his extraordinary powers and faces a world filled with djinns, magic, and danger.
I wish I got more of Hamza because his character was a lot of fun. I appreciated the bromance between Wahid, Hamza and Arif. The plot twist in the end made the whole journey worth it. Shah's storytelling is a refreshing mix of humour, heart, and adventure, offering a fresh perspective on urban Jinn fantasy.
With its rich cultural “relatable” infusion and dynamic characters, "Boy of Fire and Earth" is an enchanting read that makes you smile as you close the book with a sign of contentment.
I wish I got more of Hamza because his character was a lot of fun. I appreciated the bromance between Wahid, Hamza and Arif. The plot twist in the end made the whole journey worth it. Shah's storytelling is a refreshing mix of humour, heart, and adventure, offering a fresh perspective on urban Jinn fantasy.
With its rich cultural “relatable” infusion and dynamic characters, "Boy of Fire and Earth" is an enchanting read that makes you smile as you close the book with a sign of contentment.
February 21, 2018
A diverse fiction with jinns and dark humor. Sami Shah muddled the Islamiat lectures (Islamic Studies) with Karachi underbelly and result is a lucid tale of Jinns killing and being killed, terrorist, nukes, ISI -- and of course since its Karachi -- the King and Iblis himself. Not the best thing you will read in the year, but worth it if you want to humor yourself reading the weird things imaginable in Karachi.
December 18, 2019
I knew of Sami Shah as a Perth based comedian, and I had intended to read his memoir I, Migrant, but never got round to it.
While searching the airport store for a book to read, something generic, I recognised the author's name. And then I saw the blurb.
It's the most fresh and unique fantasy I've read in a while. It's challenging, outside the realm of my own experience, and yet that doesn't matter.
This deserves five stars.
While searching the airport store for a book to read, something generic, I recognised the author's name. And then I saw the blurb.
It's the most fresh and unique fantasy I've read in a while. It's challenging, outside the realm of my own experience, and yet that doesn't matter.
This deserves five stars.
April 30, 2020
"'So you aren't evil?'
Iblis laughed. It was, thankfully, a human sound.
'Only if you piss me off,' he said."
Best paranormal fiction consisting of vindictive Djinns, Iblis, Dajjal and an astounding journey of a boy (half-human, half-djinn).
Iblis laughed. It was, thankfully, a human sound.
'Only if you piss me off,' he said."
Best paranormal fiction consisting of vindictive Djinns, Iblis, Dajjal and an astounding journey of a boy (half-human, half-djinn).
December 30, 2017
You pick this book up, and you don't put it down until it's done. Great book!
September 25, 2018
Actual Rating: 2.5
Want to read
June 14, 2020[Recommended](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fantasy/comm...) for its similarity to American Gods, only more raw and adult.
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