I have been making my way through the books shortlisted for the Stella Prize and recently finished reading Jumaana Abdu’s debut Translations. It is a novel with a beautiful cover and a story that is rich and complex.

In the weeks before leaving the city, she had wished her father’s house would collapse on her to grant her some relief. In the last days of her marriage, she had sat on their penthouse balcony and watched planes fly low overhead, gripped by a superb terror when for a moment it seemed a plane might stoop so low as to crash into her building, low enough to crush her, suffocate her, obliterate everything.

Set during a summer of raging bushfires in NSW, Aliyah and her nine-year old daughter, Sakina, move to a rural town and buy and old house, shedding their previous lives as Moslem women. The house, we discover as the novel unfolds, has its own complicated history.

The violence of a settler colony pushed me out of my land, only for me to come here where the same violence is ongoing. I do to you what was done to me. And those who forced me to escape slaughter were once forced to do the same. Like a chain of loss and expulsion, only none of us get back what was ours. It takes a hypocrite to flee from occupied land to a land of the occupied, or maybe just a desperate man, but you can’t say that you don’t expect me to take responsibility when I say that I expect it from Israeli children who were born and raised on the land I consider my own, which is also the only land they have ever known. The two thoughts can’t be reconciled, and yet I live here, I want to plant my feet here, and I also hate that feet are planted where I lived before, so I’m ashamed. I know what’s yours.

Needing help to develop the property in her image of a permaculture farm, Aliyah hires a farmhand. Shep is an extremely private and mostly silent Palestinian man and the areas imam. Aliyah also works as a nurse in the local hospital a few days each week where she befriends the local midwife, Aboriginal woman Billie and her family.

Aliyah took the blow. She turned away and pressed her hand hard across her eyes. This crisis, which should have swept the two women together, had instead torn open an honesty that marooned them almost two decades apart. Perhaps the closest they had ever been was the moment they had first met, drawing blood, and every meeting thereafter had been an attempt to regain an irretrievable intimacy.

During a storm Alyiah encounters a childhood friend, Hana, who has escaped a difficult home situation.  Aliyah takes her in and the two women and Shep try to navigate a curious triangle.

They became uncitizens. Aliyah ran the idea over and over in her mind, all down the highway splitting the bush either side of her like an emerald sea. She thought it in the prophetic tense, to frame it as a future so certain it was as though it had already happened.

Themes explored include friendship, faith, race, identity, belonging, colonialism, trauma, and living with natural disasters. Translations is a beautiful layered philosophical read that, like a permaculture garden, works perfectly as a cohesive whole and invites reflection.