There are few debut books that have received as much early acclaim and buzz as Sufiyaan Salam’s Wimmy Road Boyz. The novel from the 28-year-old BAFTA-nominee and Blackburn-born author has been celebrated by the likes of Nikesh Shuklar, Dua Lipa and Stormzy, and unfolds over the course of one electric night on Manchester’s iconic Curry Mile, better known as Wilmslow Road.

Over 350 pages, Sufiyaan takes readers on a chaotic journey through the iconic diasporic hotspot as we squeeze a rented BMW alongside friends Immy, Khan and Haris. What begins as a seemingly ordinary night out between schoolmates soon spirals as themes of grief, love, faith, and masculinity first sit quietly in the back seat, then erupt as old tensions, buried grief, and unspoken desires surface.

Speaking to AMALIAH, Sufiyaan reflects on the writing process behind one of the year’s most talked-about debuts, the complexities of Muslim masculinity, and why telling stories like Wimmy Road Boyz matter now more than ever.

Hi Sufiyaan! Since the release of Wimmy Road Boyz, what has it been like for you and what reactions from readers have stayed with you most?

Releasing a book is weird, because it takes people a while to read, so you have to wait to find out if people like it. But, so far, Alhumdulillah, the feedback has been good. On the actual day of release, I wore a sandwich board advertising the book around London, and I had people on the Tube taking photos, telling me they’re going to read it, and a mum who told her child, ‘Look, maybe you can write a book one day, too.’

I had a white woman come up to me and told me she preordered it, and how her brother married a Muslim woman and converted to Islam. I signed a piece of paper for her, and it reminded me how many nice people there are in the world. I’ve had messages from friends and strangers, and there are lots of people picking up a book for the first time in years because of Wimmy Road Boyz.

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The novel is deeply connected to Manchester’s Curry Mile. What memories and experiences from that area shaped the story, and what did you want readers to understand about it beyond the stereotypes?

I always remember going to a kebab restaurant called Kebabish with my family as a kid. There was a dessert place I’d buy bubblegum ice cream at called Moonlight, which I couldn’t believe was even a flavour as a child. It was super colourful, loud, and you’re surrounded by people who look like you and are enjoying themselves.

It was a bit rough, too, but I wanted it to be understood in the canon of a British night out. Doing laps around Wimmy Road or celebrating Eid is also British culture and should be treated as such.

When did the idea for Wimmy Road Boyz first emerge, and what made you feel it was a story that needed to be told?

There was a night out I went on with two friends when I was going through a tough time, and I felt like I should’ve told them, but I was afraid to in case it dampened the mood. So, I didn’t. But I had this mental conflict of no one knowing what I was going through, and I wondered if the friends I was with also had some emotional turbulence. The idea of three boys on a night out who, on the surface, are having fun yet all need to let something out but can’t.

In a book, you can go under the surface of a character, and I had no idea it would get published, but I knew I could write it; it would be fun to do and different to other novels. It also helped me process my feelings.

The book feels rooted in lived experience. How do you balance your own experiences versus your imagination, and where do you draw the line between the two?

There’s fun you can have by blurring fact and fiction. It’s funny to hear my mum’s reaction and things she picks up on, true or not. I wanted it to feel honest by using the experiences of friends, exaggerating things that have happened to me or writing characters that are so different to me. I will say that the most inauthentic part of the book is that I haven’t passed my driving test, but I can drive. Just not legally.

Muslim masculinity is a key theme in the novel. What aspects of Muslim male identity were you most interested in exploring, and why?

For me, masculinity can often be misunderstood. There’s a lot of fear around the manosphere, rightly, but it’s easy to forget that a lot of men aren’t buying into it, and there’s a vocal, very loud minority.

But repressing emotions, struggling to communicate, obstacles of racism and Islamophobia and complications of faith are very real.

I was always interested as a teenager in this concept of halal to haram ratios and how that fits into being a British Muslim. From dealing with relationships to cultural pressures and exploring your Islamic identity, I liked exploring these complicated themes with nuance, fun and relatability for Muslim and non-Muslim audiences.

At a time when questions of identity, belonging and multiculturalism are prominent in UK political debate, do you see the novel as part of that wider conversation?

I never want to be reduced to writing about just identity and racism, but as a British Pakistani Muslim man, these things are thrust upon you.

I wanted the book to be interesting for those who aren’t Muslim or interested in Islam and exist as a story about masculinity, but also not shy away from the fact that if you’re brown or Muslim, you can’t go out on a single night out without experiencing racism directly or indirectly as these characters experience.

What were the biggest challenges you faced in getting the book published, and what did that journey teach you?

It started as a short story and won a prize, so I knew I had something good on my hands and how I wanted to expand it. Looking back, there was a lot of nonsense. I sent it to a few agents, but the main obstacle was them feeling like they liked the writing and characters but didn’t know how to sell it. Then, I had two paths ahead of me: I could simplify this, make it more conventional so it “sells” more, or do what felt authentic to me and hope for the best.

I was lucky enough to feel that I knew I had a good story on my hands and someone would want it. Then, when I submitted it to the Merky Books Prize and won, the lesson I learned – and when I was making my short film, Magid/Zafar – you have to believe in and fight for your vision. Everything I wanted in the book is in there. With the film, my book and any work I create in the future, I want to be uncompromising. So, I’m going to be insufferable from now on because it worked!

What do you hope readers take away from Wimmy Road Boyz after they’ve finished the final page?

That I’m the best writer alive. Anything less is unacceptable. But I want them to feel the characters are alive, real and that they can put themselves in their heads. What any good novel, in my opinion, should do is transport you into the world of someone whose decisions or actions you might not agree with, but you can empathise with.

Do you have any plans for more books or stories?

I’m working on a bunch of film or TV projects, and I have a general idea for another book, but I have so many genres I love, so I’d like to surprise readers with something they’re not expecting but is just as fun or entertaining. 

Where would you love to see Wimmy Road Boyz go next?

A film would be cool! But I just want it to be read as widely as possible, like by someone in Serbia or New Zealand. I’d also like it to make a lot of money so I can buy a house.