The Scent of Wet Earth in August — Feryal Ali Gauhar

A lyrical exploration of desire and loss set in present day Lahore. Kuchan Miran Shah had seen better days. Filled with built centuries ago by courtiers for courtesans, it is now a place frequented by drug addicts and dropouts. Here, set amidst Charlie Video palace, Green star ladies clinic and Dilwar's two rupees cart, with the Badshahi Masjid looming in the background, is the crumbling Begum Haveli. It is home to Fatimah, a mute girl injured in a acid attack as a baby, and her three surrogate mothers, all retired courteasans. Between her duties at the Haveli, Fatimah searches for love, first with Bobby, brash owner of the video parlour, and then Shabbir, the young apprentice priest at the mosque. But hope is at premium in Kucha Shah, refuge of the defeated and the destitute. The book is a moving story of love in its various forms and the despair it sometimes brings to those who find it.