Tarquin Hall

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Tarquin Hall

Goodreads Author

London, The United Kingdom



Member Since
May 2010


Tarquin Hall is a British author and journalist who has lived and worked throughout South Asia, the Middle East and Africa. He is the author of The Case of the Missing Servant, dozens of articles, and three works of non-fiction, including the highly acclaimed Salaam Brick Lane, an account of a year spent above a Bangladeshi sweat shop in London’s notorious East End. He is married to Indian-born journalist, Anu Anand. They have a young son and divide their time between London and Delhi.

Average rating: 3.8 · 17,144 ratings · 2,566 reviews · 11 distinct worksSimilar authors
The Case of the Missing Ser...

3.73 avg rating — 7,270 ratings — published 2009 — 41 editions
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The Case of the Man Who Die...

3.76 avg rating — 3,955 ratings — published 2009 — 37 editions
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The Case of the Deadly Butt...

3.84 avg rating — 3,119 ratings — published 2012 — 19 editions
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The Case of the Love Comman...

3.93 avg rating — 1,973 ratings — published 2013 — 2 editions
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Salaam Brick Lane: A Year i...

4.01 avg rating — 391 ratings — published 2007 — 4 editions
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To The Elephant Graveyard

4.18 avg rating — 350 ratings — published 2000 — 9 editions
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The Delhi Detective's Handb...

3.37 avg rating — 27 ratings3 editions
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Vish Puri E-Sampler

4.13 avg rating — 38 ratings — published 2012 — 3 editions
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Evidence: A Short Story (Vi...

3.07 avg rating — 15 ratings — published 2012
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Mercenaries, Missionaries A...

4.40 avg rating — 5 ratings
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More books by Tarquin Hall…
When I needed to find a local actor in Delhi to play Vish Puri, I called a veteran film director friend of mine. Arun assured me that finding a suitable amateur thespian wouldn’t pose a problem. “Gentlemen of that build are not hard to come by in these parts,” he said. In the event, only a few candidates came forward. The most suitable was Mr. Ashok Bajaj. His ‘manager’, who I suspect was his n... Read more of this blog post »
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The Case of the Missing Ser... The Case of the Man Who Die... The Case of the Deadly Butt... The Case of the Love Commandos
(4 books)
3.78 avg rating — 16,392 ratings

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" Hi again Petra. Yes we've been having lots of fun thanks. Off to the outer banks of NC today which I'm really looking forward to. I'm not sure if we'r ...more "
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Field Notes on Democracy by Arundhati Roy
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Earlier this year, I interviewed a senior economic adviser to the Indian government. When I challenged his view that India would soon be a “superpower” and referred to the country’s 600m poor, he shot me a venomous look: “You’ve been listening to Aru ...more
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In Arabian Nights by Tahir Shah
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" Hi everyone. I'd be happy to take your questions. In the meantime just wanted to thank you for your comments. It's always great to get feedback. Just ...more "
More of Tarquin's books…
“These included the top of Mount Everest and up the chief’s rear passage.”
Tarquin Hall, The Case of the Love Commandos

“per hour. Handbrake knew that he could keep up with the best of them. Ambassadors might look old-fashioned and slow, but the latest models had Japanese engines. But he soon learned to keep it under seventy. Time and again, as his competitors raced up behind him and made their impatience known by the use of their horns and flashing high beams, he grudgingly gave way, pulling into the slow lane among the trucks, tractors and bullock carts. Soon, the lush mustard and sugarcane fields of Haryana gave way to the scrub and desert of Rajasthan. Four hours later, they reached the rocky hills surrounding the Pink City, passing in the shadow of the Amber Fort with its soaring ramparts and towering gatehouse. The road led past the Jal Mahal palace, beached on a sandy lake bed, into Jaipur’s ancient quarter. It was almost noon and the bazaars along the city’s crenellated walls were stirring into life. Beneath faded, dusty awnings, cobblers crouched, sewing sequins and gold thread onto leather slippers with curled-up toes. Spice merchants sat surrounded by heaps of lal mirch, haldi and ground jeera, their colours as clean and sharp as new watercolor paints. Sweets sellers lit the gas under blackened woks of oil and prepared sticky jalebis. Lassi vendors chipped away at great blocks of ice delivered by camel cart. In front of a few of the shops, small boys, who by law should have been at school, swept the pavements, sprinkling them with water to keep down the dust. One dragged a doormat into the road where the wheels of passing vehicles ran over it, doing the job of carpet beaters. Handbrake honked his way through the light traffic as they neared the Ajmeri Gate, watching the faces that passed by his window: skinny bicycle rickshaw drivers, straining against the weight of fat aunties; wild-eyed Rajasthani men with long handlebar moustaches and sun-baked faces almost as bright as their turbans; sinewy peasant women wearing gold nose rings and red glass bangles on their arms; a couple of pink-faced goras straining under their backpacks; a naked sadhu, his body half covered in ash like a caveman. Handbrake turned into the old British Civil Lines, where the roads were wide and straight and the houses and gardens were set well apart. Ajay Kasliwal’s residence was number”
Tarquin Hall, The Case of the Missing Servant

“Sir, with due respect and all, my mummy-ji told me not to speak with strangers,” said Puri, conscious that Naga was now standing directly behind him.”
Tarquin Hall, The Case of the Love Commandos



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