No Funeral for Nazia by Taha Kehar presents an unorthodox take on death and its place in people’s lives. The story revolves around Nazia, a famous writer who has passed away, and who, before her passing, left a series of carefully laid out instructions for her sister to follow. The first of these instructions states, “There will be no funeral,” instead, there would be “a farewell party that gives people an opportunity to say goodbye to her without all the hysterical displays of crying that [are seen] at funerals.”

At its opening, you may think the story is a Knives Out (2019) inspired mystery novel, but we swiftly learn that this evening of intrigue, in which six guests who do not appear to be friendly are made to spend time together and grieve through hypnosis, is an entirely unique feat of storytelling. Kehar centres women and grief in this story, offering an inventive set-up which inherently draws the reader in. He binds together many themes: politics, gender, sexuality, heteronormativity, grief, betrayal, and agency all find themselves entwined in every page of this book. Kehar takes preconceived notions society holds about many things and plays with them to present an alternate truth. 

In his portrayal of women, he does the same thing. In the beginning of the story, Nazia is presented as a selfish, adulterous woman who sleeps with even her friends’ husbands. There is a lot of gossip and chatter throughout the story, all of which points its fingers at Nazia, painting her in a controversial and negative light. Much of this is carried out by Parveen, or Pino, a friend of Nazia’s who took in her daughter. As the story unfolds, however, Kehar highlights how much of Nazia’s seeming selfishness was really the result of her being manipulated by the people she considered friends. Her previously salacious escapades are revealed to be the consequences of her attempting to live outside the heteronormative family structure by engaging in an intimate relationship with another woman. In doing so, Kehar allows Nazia to shed the garb of the commonly presented “other woman” and places the burden on her “friends”.

However, in the same process, he also strips her of her agency. His depiction of people who are not straight in Pakistan is a jarring and hopeless one, and while perhaps this makes it realistic, it also presents yet another story where a woman is unable to execute her own decisions. Nazia’s character, to protect her secret, has no choice but to be blackmailed into relationships she does not want to be in. In fact, nearly the entirety of Nazia’s life is controlled by her hope to protect this secret. The men and women around her use her sexuality to manipulate and distort the truth and force Nazia to engage in acts she may otherwise avoid. In the way Nazia is depicted, she never appears to protest or fight back, and instead silently agrees to all that is asked of her.

The writing style is humorous and colloquial, and allows readers to be immersed in the story, but many big revelations are made in the span of one or two pages in the form of narration as the characters go through their individual healing processes. While this allows a good deal of suspense to be built up, it hinders a natural flow as the narrative almost informs us of the events in Nazia’s life instead of taking us on a journey.

The series of guests that are introduced to the audience are fairly difficult to like and could be difficult to relate to for most people in Pakistan. This is a group of rich, deeply selfish, and flawed people who lack basic self-reflection. Kehar makes the wealthy out to be so unlikeable that it is tough to find any sympathy for them. Unfortunately, even for Nazia, it can be tough to find sympathy. This is not because she is inherently unlikeable, but because in the set-up of the story, the reader is not given the time to connect with and form any affection for Nazia. We are introduced to her as an enigmatic, problematic, and emphatic woman who is sexy, intriguing, and cool, but who does not feel like a real, likeable human.

In a 2023 interview in One Show at a Time with Layla Demirel, Kehar described this story as “An enigmatic narrative where women assume centre-stage and healing from past trauma is an important rite of passage.” While it is an enigmatic narrative, the women are overloaded with a series of traumatic incidents in an attempt to build likeability for the characters through their traumas. This verges, at times, on de-centering them. Through the mention of her relationship with another woman and its consequences, and an incident of childhood sexual assault, Kehar attempts to builds sympathy for Nazia’s character. It makes her pain and sorrow her defining features and restricts her to being a victim to her circumstances. In Kehar’s venture to present a feminist text, he falls into the trap of focusing on women’s struggles more than their joys and triumphs. Nazia finds a degree of joy in her death – she finds control over her life and the lives of others only after she dies. It is a poetic ending, but I was left wanting for more in her life.

For people who enjoy dramatic tales and unorthodox storytelling, particularly in the South Asian context, this is a fun and very quick read. The plot twists are carefully placed and thoughtfully designed, and Kehar does a great job fleshing out multiple characters and tackling many themes. This novel and its structure are a testament to what happens when we are not limited by rules of writing.