Amitav Ghosh has been a traveller all his life. now he�s embarking on an epic study of the 19th-century journeys that still reverberate today
Interview by John Freeman

FOR a man who has spent a great deal of his life perched atop rattletrap buses and tunnelling down interstates, humping through airport security queues on his way from India to America and back again, Amitav Ghosh is oddly unmoved by the concept of arrival. "I don't believe it exists," says the silver-haired novelist flatly in New York city, one of three places he calls home these days. "I don't think people ever do arrive. And this thing we call identity, it's never a thing. It's always in a process of transformation."

Ghosh knows of what he speaks - a mere glance at the 51-year-old novelist's CV can give you jet lag. Born in Calcutta, he was educated in Delhi, Oxford and Tunis, and has lived in half-a-dozen other cities.

He earned a PhD in anthropology studying a village in Egypt, but claims now that was simply a way to get out on the road. "I just wanted to travel," he says, with typical understatement over a cup of tea at a Manhattan hotel. "As a third-worlder you either went as a student or a labourer; the back-packing route didn't exist, as no-one would give you a visa." That's no longer a problem for Ghosh. His books have carved their way into the world, allowing him to travel in their wake. Since 1986, he has published 11 works of fiction and non-fiction, starting with his ambitious debut, The Circle Of Reason, which arrived with high praise from Toni Morrison.

All of his books explore issues of migration and many reveal how cultures collide. But none of them do so in quite so dramatic a fashion as his grand new novel, Sea Of Poppies, an epic sea-faring adventure about a misbegotten crew of Indians, Americans, British traders and east-Asians, who wind up sailing toward the heart of British traders' first opium war with China aboard a former slave ship called the Ibis. The book is the first in what promises to become a trilogy about these characters and the ratty corner of imperial history. It will also, Ghosh says, carry him to the end of his career.

"When I was writing The Glass Palace, when that book was over, I felt completely devastated," he says. "What interests me is this thing that happens when people create bridges between cultures, how it goes on and perpetuates itself from generation to generation. I have a story here where I can finally look at that."

Indeed, the crews winding up on the Ibis turn the ship's deck into a kind of Ellis Island on the water. They include an Indian woman who escaped her poppy-growing husband's funeral pyre by selling herself into indentured servitude and a black American from Baltimore, passing as white. The owner comes from Liverpool but has staked his fortune on pushing opium, by force if he has to, into China. While his letters and petitions work their way to England, he runs a side-gig of shipping coolie labour to Mauritius.

Ghosh says what we think of as globalisation and free trade were invented in trading triangles such as this one, and that we have forgotten the roots of the British empire's wealth. "When people talk about free trade and the greatness of capitalism, all of it was basically founded on free trade of opium in the 19th century!" he cries. "People think of the Victorian age as a time of primness and civility. They were running the biggest drug-running operation the world has ever known."

As he talks, Ghosh's voice often raises an octave, but it never turns shrill and it's never far from a laugh - possibly because there are so many historical ironies to the period he's writing about. Many of the traders pushing for an opium war with China were, as Ghosh notes, also evangelical Christians. "In one opium trader's journal, there's this wonderful line," he says, giggling. "So busy selling opium, couldn't read the Bible today."

Like Booker-winner Kiran Desai, Ghosh continually confronts the political ramifications of his themes - who migrates and why? Who profits the most from this movement? What national instincts does war reinforce? All three works of non-fiction he has written confront these issues, especially Countdown, his 1999 book on nuclear testing.

Researching Sea Of Poppies, Ghosh was struck by how suddenly the concept of race became a factor on the sea. "This particular period about the 1820s to 1830s is a time of incredibly hardening race division," he says. "Before then, there had been a huge black population working on ships. After the 1830s, though, it became almost impossible for them to work there."

Reading sailors' accounts of their trips, he stumbled upon tales of blacks being beaten, others thrown overboard (along with whites, too). He was also confronted with tales of horrendous working conditions, and had to work hard not to import his own understanding into the times. "There are a couple of accounts of women who went on these ships as indentured labour, and one of the things they always say is that the people travelling with them had the most incredible capacity for laughter," Ghosh says. "They'd constantly come up on deck and play music, and if they didn't have instruments they'd make them."

Given his interest in far-flung events and world history, it's of little surprise that Ghosh's approach to writing fiction is heavily dependent upon research. As a journalist he took several trips to Burma, where he met rebel leaders and survived an ambush from the Burmese government with them. Other trips have taken him to Cambodia, Sri Lanka, and beyond, all of which wend their way into his novels. Upon being presented with an even more extensive list of the topics he has covered, Ghosh laughs and claims that he just writes about what interests him. But the truth is he has always been a good student.

Ghosh's father was a diplomat, which meant the family moved frequently and Amitav was sent away to boarding school when he was 11. "India is very regional but this was a pan-India kind of school," he says. "Everyone was inventing themselves, collectively and individually, and I think that experience had a great effect on me." Most obviously, for Ghosh, it was to allow him - to compel him - to move and migrate, something which was slightly difficult, even for a young man coming from a family in diplomatic service. "What it means for an American or Englishman to migrate or travel abroad is far different from what it means for an Indian," he says, referring to the age of Indian civilisation, and what he feels is its inherent conservatism. "I just have incredible admiration for the people who did it in the 19th century. I know the system of traditions, because it's inside me, and I know what it cost me to break out of them."

Starting his own family made it official. After his first novel was published, Ghosh moved from Delhi to America, where he met his wife, the biographer Deborah Baker, who has written books on the poet Robert Bly, Laura Riding, and the Beats in India. They have two children, Leela and Nayan, who attend school in Brooklyn and Massachusetts, respectively, which explains why Ghosh has moved to Brooklyn, at least for eight months of the year. "We work it out sometimes that my wife is here with my daughter, sometimes I'm here with her, sometimes she's in India without me - sometimes not."

Like many Indians, he says, he has got used to this kind of hectic juggle.

But writing the Ibis trilogy is a constant reminder of migrations undertaken without pillows or tray-tables, or passports or even identities, when all that was thrown overboard, so to speak, in favour of something new to come. "There's an incredible poignancy to their story," Ghosh says, of the people who took that risky trip. It's one he is determined to tell.

Sea of Poppies is published by John Murray at £18.99