Sameer Gudhate presents the Book Review of The Bangalore Detectives Club by Harini Nagendra

You know that oddly comforting feeling of slipping into a cozy armchair with a cup of chai and a murder mystery that doesn't rush, doesn’t scream for attention, but quietly charms its way into your heart? That’s The Bangalore Detectives Club in a nutshell. Think Agatha Christie meets vintage Bangalore—with a dash of turmeric.

Harini Nagendra makes her fiction debut here, though she’s no stranger to storytelling. A professor of ecology and noted non-fiction writer, she takes a leap into historical fiction, setting her tale in the 1920s Mysore State (modern-day Karnataka), and brings to life a world that hasn’t often been explored in this genre.

At the heart of the story is Kaveri—a 19-year-old, recently reunited with her husband, Dr. Ramu, in Bangalore. She's intelligent, curious, and more than a little rebellious, given her conservative family background. When a party at the elite Century Club turns bloody, Kaveri, much like the heroines in the detective stories she secretly devours, decides to investigate. Why? Because one of the suspects is a poor worker she sympathizes with, and because, frankly, her mathematical mind won’t rest till she fits the pieces together.

It’s the kind of set-up you’d expect from a cozy mystery—no high-octane chases, no gory details. Instead, we get sari-clad sleuthing, a peek into the social fabric of the time, and plenty of charm.

Harini’s prose is warm and accessible, almost like a friend narrating a story over an afternoon chat. The tone is gentle, infused with wit and affection for the setting and characters. There’s an unmistakable sense of nostalgia—think Nancy Drew meets Bangalore's colonial clubs, filtered through soft monsoon light.

That said, the narrative occasionally tiptoes around depth when it could’ve plunged right in. Especially when it comes to historical or political context—it’s there, but in footnotes, not footprints.

Kaveri is definitely the star here. She’s the kind of protagonist you want to root for—headstrong, curious, smart, but not infallible. There’s an authenticity to her struggles: sneaking in math studies, defying gender norms, swimming in a nine-yard sari (can we pause and appreciate the athleticism?). Her husband, Ramu, is refreshingly supportive, and together, they form the beginnings of what we assume will become the titular Bangalore Detectives Club.

I especially liked how Kaveri reminded me of my own grandmother—the kind of woman who could whip up a feast, scold a politician, and solve a murder all before sunset.

The murder itself? It’s a slow burn. The structure is simple and linear, which works for the genre, but there’s an odd little prologue that never quite finds its footing in the rest of the story. Still, the pacing is comfortable. You’re not meant to race through this book—you’re meant to stroll, observe, and enjoy the walk through 1920s Bangalore.

Women’s empowerment, class divides, colonial arrogance—there are important themes here. But rather than being central pillars, they feel more like the background score. Which is both a missed opportunity and a relief, depending on what you’re looking for. I do wish the book had woven more of Bangalore’s complex history and the freedom struggle into its scenes, rather than saving them for the author's note at the end.

What stayed with me most was the coziness—the unhurried charm of a mystery told with affection for its characters and setting. It didn't give me a rush, but it did wrap me in a nostalgic warmth. And the food descriptions? Chef’s kiss. I was craving masala dosas and filter coffee by Chapter 5.

Kaveri’s character, the marriage dynamic with Ramu, and the book’s grounded portrayal of a woman pushing against her time’s limitations—these are gold. The writing is rich with cultural texture, and the promise of a recurring series gives you something to look forward to.

The biggest letdown? The history. Bangalore in the 1920s was a fascinating place—brimming with contradictions, social change, and quiet resistance. The book hints at this but doesn’t explore it fully. And for a debut by someone as well-informed as Nagendra, that felt like a missed chance. Also, the mystery itself could’ve used more twists—it’s gentle, maybe too gentle for hardcore crime fiction fans.

As someone who grew up reading Enid Blyton before jumping to Miss Marple, I love the idea of Indianizing the whodunnit. And I genuinely enjoyed Kaveri—she felt familiar in the best way possible. But I also found myself wishing the story went deeper, especially when it came to the city’s spirit. Bangalore deserves to be more than just a backdrop.

So, should you read The Bangalore Detectives Club? Absolutely—especially if you’re in the mood for a warm, light-hearted mystery with an unusual setting and a spunky lead. It’s a charming start to what could become a delightful series. Just don’t expect too many fireworks. I’ll be back for Book 2, hoping it digs deeper into both Bangalore’s bones and Kaveri’s brilliance.

#HistoricalMystery #IndianDetectiveFiction #WomenSleuths #CozyCrimeReads #BangaloreInBooks