Hanging by a silk thread

Last year, when Robert Galbraith’s debut book was published, at first it sold some 1,500 copies. The murder mystery had an unlikely protagonist, an Afghan war veteran with a prosthetic right leg. His sidekick and secretary, Robin, was hoping to bag an HR job in a company when she came knocking on Strike’s door for temporary work. Then came the “accidental” big reveal. The creator of Strike and Robin, the author of Cuckoo’s Calling , Robert Galbraith was none other than JK Rowling — she who gave us Harry Potter. Predictably, the book quickly went on to become a bestseller.

The Silkworm is the second in the series of Rowling writing as Galbraith. Strike, who got some publicity for solving the mystery of a murdered supermodel in Cuckoo’s Calling , has spent the eight months since flush with work, mostly spying on the philandering spouses of London’s billionaires. Which is why, when Leonara Quine, the wife of author Owen Quine, comes to him after her husband goes missing, Strike takes on the assignment despite knowing that he was unlikely to be paid for it.

Owen Quine is a bit of an authorial loose-cannon. He’s just finished writing ‘Bombyx Mori’ (the scientific name of the silkworm) before disappearing from home. The book, whose manuscript his agent accidentally sent to a couple of publishing houses, is a takedown of London’s publishing industry. Quine has mocked everyone in the book — publishers, agents, editors, and the hordes of hopeful to-be-published writers and groupies. He gives them horrendous bodies and repulsive traits. Any luminary in the publishing industry who recognises himself or herself in the book has enough reasons to kill Quine. And so, a hundred pages later, when Quine is found dead, killed in the exact setting as the book’s ending, all of them become suspects.

Having traversed the entire distance, from a struggling writer to an unparalleled publishing sensation, in the cut-throat book industry, Rowling is well placed to write about it. As a peek into the world of bloated egos and relentless self-promotion that the publishing business is now reduced to, The Silkworm is a delight.

Rowling is undoubtedly the master of writing a series. This second book (out of a total of seven) builds on the first. Despite Strike's tendency to close out the world, he is beginning to be understandable. The chemistry between him and the much-engaged Robin is palpable and, while the reader is rooting for them to just get on with it already, Rowling shows cunning calculation in bringing them tantalisingly close, only to leave them hanging. While the narrative gets clunky at times, there is no faulting Rowling’s ability to plot. The best way to judge The Silkworm is by assessing whether you would have raced to the finish had it been written by Robert Galbraith, an unknown author. And my answer to that is ‘yes’. While I won’t be queuing outside a bookstore the night before, it’s safe to say I am excitedly looking forward to the third book’s release.

COMMENT NOW