The title is postcolonial tongue-in-cheek. No curry feasts dripping off the book’s pages. Not even a whiff of tikka masala. No recipes, either. Sorry. Yes, there is life outside and beyond curry.
The novel was inspired by my brief stint at a charity shop on colourful and historic Mill Road in Cambridge, a city usually defined by its colleges. It is a comic story about ordinary people and what happens in their lives when they both lose and take control. My bumbling heroines are three gossipy volunteers of Indian origin and a reticent Irishwoman working in the fictitious IndiaNeed charity shop. Eccentric customers, lovers and husbands stream through its doors.
The shop is both a metaphor for the Diaspora and a stage where each character plays a part and leaves. The novel started life as a play for the Kali Theatre Company and Futures, its venture for new playwrights.
The Curry Club had a rehearsed reading at London’s Soho Theatre in 2003. Its theatricality, dialogue and “scene” quality have been retained in the novel, giving rise to its particular form and structure. No, there isn’t even a focus on one central character. If you are a purist — once again, sorry.