A Conversation with Amina Akhtar on “Almost Surely Dead” – Chicago Review of Books

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On the way home from work, Dunia Ahmed is attacked and nearly flung to her death onto New York City subway tracks. When strangers manage to rescue her, the man who would have been her murderer ends his own life instead. The mystery of why someone Dunia had never met wanted her dead takes over her life until she vanishes without a trace.

Amina Akhtar’s third novel, Almost Surely Dead, is a dark, funny, supernatural thriller in which the world of a pharmacist just trying to move on after a broken engagement collides with the secret world of jinn—the mischievous creatures of pre-Islamic Arabia who wield the power to both protect and wreak havoc upon humanity. Dunia’s story unfolds from her point of view alongside a more made-for-prime-time style telling on The Disappearance of Dunia Ahmed podcast.

Akhtar is a former New York fashion editor and has worked for Vogue, Elle, New York Magazine, and the New York Times. She was also the founding editor of The Cut. Almost Surely Dead was published by Mindy’s Book Studio, a boutique story studio that is the result of a collaboration between Mindy Kaling, Amazon Publishing, and Amazon Studios.

I had the opportunity to speak with Akhtar over Zoom on Desi (South Asian diasporic) culture, a haunted closet, and the power of family stories.

Devi Bhaduri

How did you connect with Mindy’s Book Studio, and what was it like authoring a book published under Mindy Kaling’s imprint?

Amina Akhtar

Mindy Kaling’s amazing. She’s been really supportive of all my books. She’s talked about Fashion Victim in interviews, she’s put Kismet down as a book to read in Elle Magazine. I don’t know what I’ve done to garner her love, but I’m really excited about it! I think it’s awesome that someone is opening doors in an industry that’s traditionally very White. Even when you get your book deal as an author of color, there are so many other challenges you have to face besides publishing. A lot of book bloggers don’t read authors of color, and I don’t think they even realize it. Getting any type of coverage or getting any book events—it’s a challenge.

It’s great when I see people like Mindy who are not only breaking glass ceilings and opening doors but opening up doors behind them. She’s not pulling up the ladder like I’m used to in the fashion world. They’ll kick you off the ladder! And she’s like, the more the merrier.

Devi Bhaduri

One of the things that’s so unique about Almost Surely Dead is that it’s not a murder mystery, it’s an almost-murdered mystery!

Amina Akhtar

Yes, it starts with Dunia almost being pushed in front of a subway train. When I was a New Yorker, that was my number one fear. Dunia’s grappling with that, but then she keeps almost being killed. The strange part is, she doesn’t know who’s doing it, and when they find the people trying to kill her, they end up dying by killing themselves.

I thought, if you’re being haunted by something, you’re going to have moments of: am I being crazy? You’re going to find any logical explanation for what you experience. And that’s what Dunia does. She doesn’t assume, oh, I’m being haunted, because she’s not a believer, necessarily. I feel like she’s my everywoman. Very normal. She’s a pharmacist just trying to get through her life. She doesn’t have a ton of ambitions, short of “please make my life suck less.”

Devi Bhaduri

When beginning this novel, where did you start? For example, did you start with an idea related to the cultural layer of the story, or did you start with wanting to play with the supernatural element—the jinn?

Amina Akhtar

I started with the sleepwalking because I’m a sleepwalker. There’s actually a true story that kicked this off. I don’t know if you’re a believer. I became one after this experience. After my mother passed, I was living in the apartment that Dunia lives in in the novel. I started realizing that my dog kept staring at things that don’t exist, and kept pinning her ears back. Then, I realized I was sleepwalking every night, looking in my closet for something that shouldn’t be there. I joked with my friends, saying that I had a closet monster.

Now, in the fashion world, you always end up going to dinner with PR friends, and they always have a gaggle of tarot readers, and astrologers, and psychics. I don’t know why. It just is. One day, I get this call from a psychic I had met six months before at a dinner. He said, I don’t know how to tell you this, but my spirit guide said I need to get into your apartment right now. I dropped the phone. He didn’t want any money either. I couldn’t figure out what the scam was.

So he came over and said I see a vision of St. Michael killing a demon, but whatever it is that’s here, it’s not coming from you, it’s from someone else in your building. He does [a ritual] I couldn’t even explain and prays. The energy in my apartment felt better after he did this. And then the psychic said, there’s a message here from your mother. He goes straight to my bookshelf and is drawn to one of Camus’ less well-known books, and goes to a specific line on a specific page. It was “Yes, it would be a pleasure to see my mother again.” So that was what was in my head as I wrote Dunia.

Devi Bhaduri

Being Indian-American, I related to the Pakistani-American cultural specificity of the story. I can see the generational differences within the Ahmeds’ immigrant community, particularly around what each had to do to survive in America. For example, I notice many of us in the first generation of our families to be born here felt pressure to be seen as fitting into mainstream America, vs. our parents’ generation, who often felt it wasn’t safe to attract attention outside the immigrant community. What was it like for you, and how did it inspire Dunia’s story?

Amina Akhtar

My dad came here in the ‘60s. We were some of the first Desi kids born here, and there was no Internet then. So if you were growing up in El Paso, TX in the ‘90s like I was, none of the Desis you grew up with, even in your generation, shared similar interests with you. They weren’t into the music you liked. I was the weird goth girl wearing combat boots and I shaved my head. My brother was in all the bands in the music scene. We kind of stuck out. You couldn’t go online and find your people. People say I write about estrangement. I tend to write these women who are cut off from their culture in some way.

Devi Bhaduri

Speaking of cultural conflicts, I love what you did with the character, Liz. She’s like the poster child for how one person’s privilege can be potentially lethal to someone who doesn’t have it. She is a White woman with extreme wealth privilege, and she pulls out an Ouija board. As horror fans know, that’s the last thing you want to do if you’re being haunted! But Liz has no qualms about making Dunia’s trauma her personal entertainment.

Amina Akhtar

Dunia’s being stalked and haunted and sleepwalking. She’s grieving her mom and a relationship. She’s a mess, so when she meets Liz—the first person to be nice to her—she’s like, “please!” Liz is somebody who’s not been told “no” before. It’s a different way of thinking. Not being told no—it’s bad for people. Look at all these billionaires who don’t get told no. It’s not good. You need someone to take them and say, “Liz, honey. Uh-uh.”

Devi Bhaduri

I so appreciated all the common sorts of microaggressions that you wrote into the story! Like when Dunia’s sister Nadia gets cut off by a podcast host when she tries to correct her mispronunciation of Dunia (Doo-nee-ah) as Duh-nee-ah, which literally means “cilantro.”

Amina Akhtar

I think that as Desis—I don’t know about you, but I was always told not to rock the boat. Suck it up and put up with it. But I think socially, we’re finally in a moment when no one’s putting up with it anymore. It’s exciting. And then we can share and laugh at it, because it’s ridiculous.