Good For Nothingfixates on a town named Friesly. This is my fictional homage to Bradford, Dewsbury, Doncaster, and the likes. Sara Jafari, Editor, says: ‘A coming of age story for our times, Good For Nothing is a snapshot into the lives of three teenagers, Amir, Kemi and Eman, and explores the highs and lows of what it’s like to grow up as people of colour in the North of England – which we so rarely see. As soon as we read this all of us at Puffin knew we had something seriously special on our hands. Good For Nothing is emotional and heart-breaking – but also funny and relatable – and completely unlike anything I have read before. We are so proud to be the publisher launching Mariam’s writing career as a new literary talent to watch.’ Though the narrative changed after these initial thoughts, Zayd’s death did end up becoming the catalyst for the entire novel. 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.”

Contemporary texts can offer more scope, more depth, more richness: Fatima Farheen Mirza’s A Place For Us and Leila Aboulela’s Bird Summons instantly come to mind. The literary starting point is obvious. It’s a relay which - I feel - begs to be continued. I am unsure if the silent majority recognises what stories they live every day. Certainly the young child that I was on my grandma’s street, arm in arm with a neighbour with the same name, face, and stance as my own, wouldn’t.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. I kept notebooks dedicated to shaping my characterisation of Eman, Amir and Kemi. I created a brother for Amir: Zayd Ali. The Hector to his Paris, the one who would always save him, even if it meant his own death.

Bradfordian Mariam Ansar found it difficult to relate to fellow Muslims in Cambridge (MEE/Mohamad Elaasar)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”. I wanted to create narratives that feel real and that move people because I’m from a community that is underrepresented, but also underprivileged and misunderstood – not just in terms of race – but in class and culture and community.” I’m not actively trying to teach anyone anything or trying to dispel a stereotype. I’m letting people be themselves. I work as a teacher in quite a deprived area. There’s a defiant “it is what it is” mentality here and I respect that. There’s this idea that we have to be palatable and soft and that we have to do all these things to be seen as exceptional. My three main characters are not the perfect representation of being Muslim or a person of colour. That was very intentional. 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?