Rumaan Alam, the maestro of nighttime scribbles, churned out his first novel from the dark hours between 7 PM and 2 AM. His mornings were filled with the chaos of school runs for his two boys, before he seized a quick nap, spent his daylight hours freelancing, and politely reminded his husband David to maintain radio silence during his prime writing hours. This meticulous schedule led to a literary trifecta: three novels, the last of which—*Leave the World Behind*—turned everything upside down. “People often say kids crush creativity,” he quips, an eyebrow raised. “I like to think they provide a rather terrifying push instead.”
Now 47, Alam sips coffee at the iconic Hotel Chelsea in Manhattan, pondering the bizarre turns life has taken lately. He admits there’s a pinch of guilt attached to his sudden success. His novel, a eerily relevant tale about affluent New Yorkers trapped in the Hamptons during an apocalypse, just happened to debut as the world was shutting down for a pandemic party. “It was a horrific year for most folks, but for me? Instant bestseller! What a wild twist, right?” he shrugs with a grin. Yet, with a hint of irony, he smiles, noting the uniquely joyful feeling of not just surviving, but thriving while cloaked in the existential dread of the times.
Alam’s writing dances between commercial charm and literary flair, with a delightful pinch of sharp wit. In *Leave the World Behind*, a well-off white family faces the challenges of their biases when the affluent Black owners of their rental property arrive, fleeing an unknown catastrophe. His latest offering, *Entitlement*, delves deeper into the ever-widening gap between the haves and the have-nots in a city that has turned paying rent into a high-stakes game. Meet Brooke, a Manhattan thirty-something who plays dress-up in the wealth of her billionaire employer’s world, proving once again that living beyond your means is just another form of modern art.
But Alam doesn’t just throw caution to the wind; he cleverly reframes the New York narrative. Forget the energetic hustle, as depicted in Sylvia Plath’s *The Bell Jar*. He paints a different picture—one of waiting. Yes, waiting. Brooke and her friends find themselves in a city where aspirations are just as inflated as their rent prices, all while waiting for their lives to magically morph into the best-selling novel they envisioned. “In a city where the outlook can look sunnier with a trust fund, many just hold onto the dream of owning an apartment—our version of achieving the American Dream, I suppose,” he muses.
With an educational background steeped in artful deceit, Alam stepped into the literary scene as a fresh-off-the-boat graduate. Raised in Washington DC by immigrant parents with lofty medical ambitions, writing seemed an uncharted territory. “Magazine publishing was my immigrant child compromise,” he deadpans. Landing a job at Condé Nast as a mere assistant during the last gasps of the print magazine boom, he relishes tales of expense reports that would make any millennial swoon in envy. “I was often traipsing upstairs for $200 reimbursements while my boss made bizarre fashion choices. Moments like these could fill a chapter themselves!”
As the New York landscape evolved, Alam observed a peculiar transformation in the lives around him. Many women transitioned from magazine positions to surprising jobs like “life coaching,” leaving him utterly befuddled. “Who made these people experts?” he chuckles. His newest novel captures the anxieties of urban parents observing their children’s “rich kid” lifestyle. “It’s absurd,” he remarks, “when your kid asks why you don’t have a country house, especially when you’re juggling a freelance gig and two rambunctious boys.”
Alam’s literary escapades have skyrocketed his finances, placing him in delightfully surreal scenarios. Picture him on a Zoom call with Julia Roberts while kids frolic in the background—sounds straight out of a sitcom, right? “There I was, in a bathing suit, signing deals at the height of a global pandemic, convinced I was living some virtual fantasy,” he laughs. Yet, beneath the humor lies a critique of societal values, illustrating the real terror many face: running out of money and facing the suburbs. “For a certain elite, leaving Manhattan is akin to a life sentence,” he notes dryly.
In *Entitlement*, Alam taps into a derangement that’s not just hilarious but rather poignant. “Derangement might just be the most rational response to modern life,” he concludes—an astute observation that fuels a compelling narrative. *Entitlement* hits shelves on 17 September, promising not just laughs but shrewd reflections on a world where money is the true metric of happiness—or at least, the ticket to brunch on the Upper East Side.
