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 see it as a love letter to the northern community, focusing on the lives of people that are often left out of dominant narratives. In the UK, we have such a southern-based focus on development and progress. There are young voices who are quite angry about the fact that they’re not really included. Writing this book felt like a reclaiming of not just forgotten areas but also forgotten emotions, and using those emotions to shed a light on important issues.

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. Mariam Ansar says: ‘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. My endless thanks goes to Sara and the team at Penguin Random House for their support with nurturing Good For Nothing, WriteNow for seeing something in its ugly baby stage, and of course, Claire Wilson, for helping me walk the story – slowly and carefully – to life.’ When I was at Cambridge, I attended lectures and ran into supervisors who told me that the reason why the accent I had at the time didn’t pronounce its "Ts" was less to do with it being northern and more to do with it being working class.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. 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? Editor Sara Jafari acquired world rights from Claire Wilson at RCW. The novel is set to be published in spring 2023. 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.”

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.”

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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. My characters - much to the dismay of the students I teach every day at a school in Bradford - are not based on anyone in particular. Yet they are an amalgamation of everyone I have met, seen, spoken to, and not spoken to. I think that it is the job of the writer to bottle magic. I want the texts that are about Muslims to be just as rich and sharp, just as perceptive and loving, as the texts of the classical era; or the Victorian; or the medieval. I want them to be emotionally difficult and tangibly rewarding. Beyond interracial love stories, beyond headlines seeking to sensationalise the worst of us.

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? Good For Nothing is a coming-of-age story which follows three teens grappling with grief and police prejudice in the north of England. It is a “rich and warmly written” novel exploring the power of friendship and human connection. 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. Penguin has landed Good For Nothing , a “tender, witty and heartfelt” young adult debut novel from Mariam Ansar. 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.

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Bradfordian Mariam Ansar found it difficult to relate to fellow Muslims in Cambridge (MEE/Mohamad Elaasar) There is an essay by Zadie Smith called "Speaking In Tongues" which I still refer to constantly. Even six years after graduating from university, where I sat in the book-strewn refectory room of my old Cambridge college, and looked at it for the very first time.

Records the default button state of the corresponding category & the status of CCPA. It works only in coordination with the primary cookie. 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. Here, Ansar talks about how her teaching career has influenced her work and how she represents northern communities through her writing. 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: If you’ve never translated seriously, you don’t really understand what language is’: Pulitzer prize winner Jhumpa LahiriBeautifully 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? They’re students, shopkeepers, taxi drivers, teachers, accountants, journalists, doctors, entrepreneurs… Who writes for them? The real people? Including the northern, brown-skinned, kasmey-yelling bros who act hard, and feel hard, but aren’t, underneath it all? A picture of West Yorkshire Nor the mosque attendees of mine and my siblings’ youth, who drew unflattering images of our teachers and flashed them to the class with ease. I want people to recognise the humanity of people and qualities that can seem abrasive, or angry, but are actually just misunderstood” It is a realistic dip into the lives of diverse communities in Yorkshire and is written with compassion and awareness of the many hurdles Northern teens from marhinalised groups have to overcome. As well as being a damn good story, Good for Nothing carries a valuable message that resonated with me.