It is easy to call the Malayali woman writer offensive. She never resists this indictment. As much as she loves and desires men, she is expected to be a misandrist. That is not counterintuitive for her. Instead, she quips, laughs, and sneers. Every inquiry lulls her into fury, her humour impish yet wry, forever disarming, eyebrow-raising. You can blame her for many things, but insecurity is a charge she will readily acquit. If anything, it is an affront to call a Malayali woman writer insecure.

Like the ideal mystery novel, Jissa Jose’s , translated by Jayasree Kalathil, begins with a disappearance. None of those concerned with the missing woman, Mudritha, have ever met her. Not in real life, anyway. The man who filed the missing person’s report spoke to her over many calls to organise a women’s trip, where Mudritha and women she’d met through a women-only Facebook group would travel to Odisha. Written through the perspective of multiple characters, Mudritha burdens itself with juggling many desires, many women, and many stories, testing how much can be stuffed into a novel before its seams rip.

Once Aniruddhan arrives at the police station, Vanitha, the female officer “biding [her] time until the rank list for an assistant...