This is a true flavour of the diverse Yorkshire I love and I hope it makes its way onto the school curriculum.

After all, the tradition of Muslim characters is nothing if not interesting: Shakespeare’s Othello is -in some interpretations - ambiguously racialised as deriving from Muslim Spain. Shelley’s Frankenstein features orientalised depictions of the Ottoman Empire in the passive, submissive Safie. Ansar added: “This book is a love letter to every forgotten northern town, every young person of colour that has struggled to feel understood not simply in the depths of their misery – but also in the depths of their private joy. This one is for those whose smiles are sometimes read as troublesome, whose laughter is falsely labelled disruptive, whose silences are often misinterpreted. I hope it soothes. I hope it provokes anger. I hope it causes laughter upon laughter – and a secret tiny sob.” Such emotional aspects had to be divorced from the reading. We were taught to consider words, rhyme schemes, pentameters and tetrameters instead. Ironically - despite my old supervisor’s efforts - context has always been the first thing I consider in any text. Here, Ansar talks about how her teaching career has influenced her work and how she represents northern communities through her writing. a love letter to every forgotten northern town, every young person of colour that has struggled to feel understood”

The exercise I was involved in - a weekly seminar named Practical Criticism - revolved around analysing a text without considering its contexts: who wrote it, when did they write it, what socioeconomic factors could they have been responding to? For Ansar, part of giving dignity is allowing communities to exist as they are, in a way that is unsanitised and uncensored “like the boy in your classroom that you always found so annoying”. Influenced by kitchen sink realism, one of the protagonists in Good for Nothing, Amir, embodies this: “I want people to recognise the humanity of people and qualities that can seem abrasive, or angry, but are actually just misunderstood”.

If you’ve never translated seriously, you don’t really understand what language is’: Pulitzer prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri Penguin Random House Children’s is delighted to be publishing Good for Nothing, from UKYA debut author Mariam Ansar, which is set to publish in Spring 2023. World Rights were acquired from Claire Wilson at RCW Literary Agency by Penguin Editor Sara Jafari. Good for Nothing is a tender, witty and heartfelt coming of age story that follows three teens grappling with grief and police prejudice in the North of England. This rich and warmly written novel redefines small town mentalities and explores the power of friendship and human connection. It is the perfect next read for fans of And the Stars Were Burning Brightly and The Hate U Give. I think some of the challenges that came for me were people misunderstanding what I was trying to do. As the writer, you’re going to have this intense attachment to what you’re trying to do. Someone in publishing is thinking about how they’re going to make your book marketable. It’s important for young writers to know you can actually say no to suggestions. Don’t be afraid to put your foot down. Make sure you have a good relationship with your agent or somebody who can fight those fights for you.Beautifully written, well developed characters, authentic setting and real heart. Good for Nothing explores friendships, the nature of family and community, racism, conscious and unconscious bias and more. What more could you want in a book?

Absolutely loved this book. I often wished when I was teaching in inner city Bradford 30 years ago that their were more books like this around. I can understand that. I’m from Bradford: a town in West Yorkshire best known for its large South Asian population, the birthplace of the singer Zayn Malik, many well-respected restaurants, and a certain brand of deprivation-induced delinquency. Why did you choose to set your book in a fictional town and not your home town of Bradford and what, if any, elements of Bradford did you use to build that world?The synopsis reads: “Eman is the awkward girl whose favourite evenings are spent at home watching soaps with her Nani. Amir is the angry boy who won’t talk about the brother he lost but won’t let his name be forgotten either. Kemi is fast and fierce and beautiful, and knows she deserves as good a shot as anyone else, if only she can get to the starting line. Bradfordian Mariam Ansar found it difficult to relate to fellow Muslims in Cambridge (MEE/Mohamad Elaasar) Now she wants to organise a school trip to Cambridge, but insists it’s not for the high fliers. “It would be for the students who tell me they let off fireworks in the park, or the students who tell me their dad was angry with them last night.” She wants to bring the students “who are always in detention or who just come to my room and linger instead of going out for break time … because they don’t know what Cambridge is”. There’s a certain sense of pride in her voice as she talks about them: My tongue gained another in all of those scenarios. Or, at least, my mouth was so heavy with unspoken words that it felt like I needed another one. If only to be taken seriously. If only to be heard beyond half-baked stereotypes; privileged braying laughter; the regional distinctions between people of colour. Editor Sara Jafari acquired world rights from Claire Wilson at RCW. The novel is set to be published in spring 2023.