3 e Netra by Amrita Conner, Baishali Nandi, Ipsita Majumdar [Paperback]

Editorial Note

Namaskar,

In the July-August 2016 issue of The Atlantic magazine, Terence Rafferty wrote an article analyzing why today’s crime fiction world is ruled by a host of queens rather than a few aging kings. Reading that article, I too noticed this shift for the first time.

And it’s true!

Politics and crime, rape in speeding cars, and everyday abuse within the four walls of one’s own home—all are blending together now. Are male writers falling behind when it comes to writing mystery fiction for today’s readers? Are the traditional detective-centric narratives of “punishing the wicked and protecting the virtuous” being replaced by a new kind of darkness, brought forth by female writers?

Returning to that article, Terence wrote:

*"The female writers, for whatever reason (men?), don’t much believe in heroes, which makes their kind of storytelling perhaps a better fit for these cynical times. Their books are light on gunplay, heavy on emotional violence. Murder is de rigueur in the genre, so people die at the hands of others—lovers, neighbours, obsessive strangers—but the body counts tend to be on the low side.

… Death, in these women’s books, is often chillingly casual, and unnervingly intimate."*

To prove the truth in these words, just two novels suffice: Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl and Paula Hawkins’ The Girl on the Train. These two books have transcended the bounds of popularity, both in print and on-screen. Many reasons can be cited for this appeal, but personally, I believe that these novels hold up a dark mirror in which our deepest fears, doubts, anger, and greed are reflected. We, who are used to hiding our weaknesses or at most glancing at them from the corner of our eyes, cannot look away from our own reflections in these pages.

Meanwhile, a new era was dawning in Bengali literature, fueled by social media. Many people began writing regularly on their pages, in group events, and in collections that transitioned directly from Facebook to books. These included social stories, romantic novels, and classic ghost tales. But among them were also some uniquely sharp, chilling, and almost personal supernatural and mystery stories. Even amidst countless writings, these particular stories began to catch my attention. I realized that while Kolkata may not be London, this postmodern fear, rage, and darkness were starting to emerge in the works of these authors. And yes, among those authors were three women whose writing I became a fan of!

Whenever I learned that their work was included in a collection, I would make sure to get my hands on that book. Naturally, while reading those books, I often thought—wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a book solely dedicated to their writings? But who would make it happen?

Since the very beginning of Biva Publications, I have been buying, reading, discussing, and even critiquing their books. I knew that their publisher, Animesh Pramanik, was himself a skilled writer and an avid reader in the mystery-thriller genre. So, he was already well acquainted with the works of these three authors. He took the initiative to compile a collection of their stories.

Of course, writers write, and publishers publish—but this book needed something more to make it truly come alive. So, as a third party, I was entrusted with the editorial responsibility. And while working on it, I was once again astonished by the diversity of themes and modernity in these three authors’ stories. I must thank the publisher for believing in them and deciding to bring this book to readers. Otherwise, who knows when or how we would have had the chance to read such exceptional works?

There is nothing more to add. These three writers have the potential to significantly contribute to Bengali literature in the realm of mystery, thriller, and supernatural fiction in the coming days. If you want a glimpse of that promise, follow their words and embark on this journey.

With editorial gratitude for reading this book and staying with us, I now take my leave.

Riju Ganguly
Kolkata, January 2020