The Trouble with Research
I first came across Noor Inayat Khan’s story in 2018, while researching the work of WW2’s SOE agents for a novel I was writing. The non-fiction book Spy Princess by Shrabani Basu came into my hands, and I was immediately galvanised: I knew: this was it.
I had to write a new version of Noor’s story, a version that would bring this extraordinary woman to life: resurrect her, introduce her to readers of today, that they might feel as I did. The active word is feel. Straight biographies like Spy Princess often come across as cerebral, dry. The plain facts of Noor’s story might be fascinating, but who was she, deep inside?
She made me feel inspired and uplifted, as well as humbled, and outraged on her behalf. There was so much about her I could identify with: her Indian background; her dreamy, creative nature and rather otherworldly approach to life. Her gift for storytelling. We were, however, in other ways complete opposites: though I love classical music, I have two left thumbs when it comes to playing an instrument, while she was a truly gifted musician, bathed in music from birth due to her father, an Indian musician and a Sufi.
And while she faced the real dangers of her era with unflinching, furious courage, I’m a coward in physical matters, an introvert who loves nothing more than curling up in a cosy corner with a good book. And perhaps that’s why I needed to write her story: to face the dangers she and other heroines did, but vicariously. To relive her life, but in a safe environment, inspired to become a better, stronger, more resilient human being through her example.
But almost immediately, I hit an obstacle. Basu’s book is itself based on the definitive biography of Noor Inayat Khan, Madeleine, by Jean Overton Fuller. I needed that book. Only Fuller knew the real Noor, the intimate details of her life.
But Madeleine, back then, was out of print. Getting hold of a used edition seemed impossible. I turned to an old friend, who had once owned a used book shop, and perhaps had useful connections. His emailed reply felt like the answer to a prayer: I have that book! I love it!
He loved it so much, he wasn’t selling it, but he was happy to lend it to me. Which he did. I read it in a rush and copied all the relevant pages. However, by then, time had passed. I had other contracts, a new novel to write, deadlines, and no time for Noor.
Fast forward a few years, and finally, I had the space for my Noor book. And wonder of wonders, a new, revised edition of Madeleine was now available, with the full title: Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan: Madeleine, by the woman who had been her best friend in real time, Jean Overton Fuller. I set to work…
…and that’s when the panic settled in. Was I crazy? Who did I think I was, to write the heroic story of a woman, a heroine, a forgotten icon of WW2 Paris? How could I possibly do justice to her? Who was I, to undertake such a task? To think that I had the capacity to add dimension and warmth to the story of a woman of so many facets, someone I’d never met, whose life of valour and sacrifice lives on in history?
But by now I was committed. I could not back out. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew, but the task now seemed fairly straightforward: get the words right. After all, I didn’t have to actually invent anything. The story was there. All I had to do was… write it down.
But another problem raised its head: the actual writing.
I am what we call in author jargon a ‘pantser’: that is, we write books without an outline, ‘by the seat of our pants’. I’ve written my best books by simply sitting down at a blank page without an idea in my head, and simply started to write. Trust the words to come. It was as if the stories were pre-made inside me, that I only had to give my mind the command, and out they would come, through my fingers. That’s how I wrote my very first book, Of Marriageable Age; the one that was immediately snapped up by an agent and then went to auction and acquired by HarperCollins. It had seemed a miracle at the time, and over the years almost all my novels have been written this way, without the foggiest notion of what would come, beyond the location. India, France, Guyana? That was the only “plan” I’d start with. And it worked.
But that was a method that could not work this time. This story was premade. In theory, that should make it easier, shouldn’t it? All I had to do was find new words to clothe it in.
I wondered how I would cope. I knew I had to be truthful. I had to follow her life to the letter. I could not make up incidents to suit the story, or create dramatic events, cliffhangers, plot twists. For the first time, I had a clear outline to work from. A defined framework, with boundaries I had to respect. How would I manage?
The weight of that responsibility hung on me; I had to keep to the true story. I couldn’t let my imagination run away with me. I wasn’t allowed to embellish, go off on a tangent the way I would with a novel. This was Noor’s true story, and it had to stay that way.
Nevertheless, I plunged in, and to my everlasting wonder, I found I needn’t have worried. Noor’s life needed no embellishment, no going off on exciting tangents. From beginning to end and even before her birth, the story of The Last Agent in Paris told itself. It was dramatic enough, abundant with climaxes, cliffhangers, twists and turns; enough, I believed, to keep the hungriest thriller reader satisfied.
My role was to fill in the gaps: that is, fill in the ‘soft’ spaces that history leaves open. I still had a whole universe of creative freedom, consisting of Noor’s thoughts, feelings, reactions, interactions, words; her fears, her hopes. Her decision-making. Her prayers. Her love for family, country, Beloved, God. This interior universe is not history. These were the open areas where I could truly empathise, reach out to her; conjure her in my mind. How would she feel, think, react? What would she say? That’s how I could fill in those soft spaces. That’s how I could hope to bring her to life on the page. And actually, it’s these soft spaces, the interior of a character, that I most enjoy writing. I’m not an introvert for nothing.
And so it happened. Writing this book was a joy. I don’t know how much “my” Noor corresponds to the Noor who once lived, who walked the streets of Paris stalked by the Gestapo. I can only say I wrote her with love and respect, and I hope those qualities shine through my words.
And so a journey of several years, a journey that started with hard research, came full circle. Noor’s actual life, but filled, I hope, with the love I poured into it.
And now, here it is: The Last Agent in Paris, all ready to slide into the hands of my readers. May they, too, be inspired by this truly remarkable woman. The unsung heroines of WW2 must not be forgotten. She was one of them.
(c) Sharon Maas
About The Last Agent in Paris:
As the bombs rained down on Paris, my family fled before the Nazis could take us. I never thought I’d see my beloved home again. But I’ve come back to fight for the people I love. And now, I’m the last agent standing. The freedom of the world rests on my shoulders.
Paris, 1940. As Nazi soldiers march down the Champs Elysees, Noor’s heart is shattered. Her family is forced to flee their home to the safety of England, and as Noor watches the French coast disappear in the distance, she vows to do everything she can to stop Germany from devouring her beloved country.
Training as a wireless operative in England, Noor’s perfect French makes her the ideal candidate for undercover work in her beloved Paris, and she is soon assigned to an illustrious spy network led by a mysterious man named Prosper.
Day after day, Noor walks the treacherous streets of Paris looking for safe places to broadcast messages to London. But Nazi officers lurk around every corner, and Noor’s heart thunders in her chest as she evades detection, tightly clutching the briefcase containing her radio equipment. She knows it would take just one stop and search for her life to be over.
With each passing day her mission becomes more lethal as, one by one, her fellow agents are captured. Someone is betraying them, but who? And when Noor becomes the last agent in the network, can she keep the links with England alive, to help win the war?
An utterly gripping and emotional World War 2 novel inspired by the incredible true story of Noor Inayat Khan, the first female radio operator sent by SOE into Nazi-occupied France. Fans of Suzanne Goldring, Ellie Midwood and Siobhan Curran will be swept away.
Order your copy online here.
