History: the Smell of Isinglass

About This Novel

For many years I accepted this: the city I knew as a child no longer existed, and what was there now belonged to someone else. Nazarari Baksh made the clothes I wore when I went abroad, but it has long ceased to be a name on St. Vincent Street. However, looking towards the ruins where his tailor shop once stood, one will miss him more than ever. Across the road, one side of the Gothic Victorian police headquarters building - for which he made custom uniforms - had been blown away from the inside. The gray façade still stood, but blackened; smoke billowed from the pointed arcades.

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