If there is one thing almost a quarter-century of reviewing has taught me, it is that every book must be judged in its context. As we draw near the end of 2008, I see this anthology as possibly the most significant contribution to Indian writing this year.

The debate about writing in English being elitist vis-à-vis the bhashas is almost dead. What this volume does — by suggestion — is portray the elitist nature of the bhasha literature we have so far been allowed to read in translation. The Dalit revolution did something similar three decades ago, but the Dalit writing published was itself self-consciously literary. This book gives us a taste of what the consumer at the end of the line devours, in a state where four-fifths of the people are literate. Some of the writers here have published works numbering well in the four figures, and have sold in the millions. There can be no question at all that this is representative Tamil writing. What could be more so?

The wonder is that so much of it is so good. Writing six to ten hours every day, to fill a certain number of pages every week, is a test of character as much as of creativity. In the 20th century, first the brahminical, then the pro-swarajya and last the socio-Dravidian Tamil journals set high literary standards. Now, when ideology does not sell, these standards serve their successors well.

The earliest selection here is from 40 years ago, when the ideological battles had been won. Tamilvanan’s then ‘iconic’ Shankarlal is now faintly comic, with his black hat and black sunglasses and worldwide fan club. But the inheritors of his mantle are modern as you like, and still as quick with the gun as with the lip. There may be more than a hint of Philip Marlowe in them, but what I admire about these writers is how well they bring in the setting, because they are part of it. Watch Pattukkottai Prabakar’s detective:

Bharat parked his motorbike at the Nelson Building and walked over to the lift. “REPAIR,” announced a piece of cardboard stuck in the grill. He took a pen from his pocket and added the words “WHEN WILL YOU” above the word and a question mark below, and walked up the stairs.

Prabakar’s Bharat and Susheela, of the Moonlight Detective Agency, sometimes team up with Naren and Vaij of the Eagle Eye Detective Agency. This couple is the creation of Subha: Suresh and Balakrishnan, who live, with their families, in neighbouring flats in Adayar. It is a remarkable world, that of the writers of pulp fiction, almost as magical as that they create. The Subha story featured here has a mad scientist and a politician for leavening.

Not that pulp fiction is only about crime. Ramanichandran, one of the most popular Tamil writers, produces possibly what Georgette Heyer might have if she’d had to write to deadlines. Vidya Subramaniam has a strong feminist message. Indra Soundar Rajan — another bestseller — has here a story of rebirth and a goddess’s vengeance. And Rajesh Kumar — who had annual sales in the millions during the 90s, and has published more than 1,250 novels and 2,000 stories since 1968, dazzles with his range and invention.

The question is sure to be asked, how much of this writing is derivative? Rajesh Kumar answers it best when he says “I never even read English novels. In the time I would have to take to read a thick English novel, I can write two novels myself. I do read books in English, but they are reference books relevant to my stories.”

In fact, Rajesh Kumar’s stories here are some of the least rooted in local culture. The other writers are very Tamil, but most Indian readers would understand and enjoy them. The Endnotes are sparing but, I think, adequate.

Chakravarthy’s Translator’s Note sparkles. Her translations could sometimes be more elegant, but I suppose they reflect the occasional crudities of the originals.

Now that there is a Blaft — and whatever that name means, it should be kept secret — Chakravarthy and Khanna would perform a great and lasting service to all of us (the hell with Literature!) if they could produce, or commission, a similar volume in each of at least a dozen more of our bhashas. This volume was reprinted in three months; they won’t lose money. And as Rajesh Kumar says in a Q&A with his readers:

What is the message I have in my crime stories? “He who sows evil will reap hi punishment.” We are creating awareness among the public here. I seriously think we should be awarded the Gnanapeet and Sahitya Academy (sic) Awards.