The Book of Disappearance by Ibtisam Azem (translated by Sinan Antoon)

I was drawn to the bold premise of this novel where one day all Palestinian Arabs suddenly vanish from the State of Israel. This challenges the notion that if Palestinians were to leave the region it would solve the biggest problems of this area of The Middle East. It's an inventive way of considering this longstanding conflict and, sadly, continues to feel extremely relevant today though the book was first published in Arabic in 2014 (with the first English translation appearing in 2019.) The narrative brings this sudden occurrence to life through the voices and competing opinions of those who remain, but it's primarily focused through the lens of Israeli journalist Ariel who reads through the notebooks of his vanished Palestinian friend and neighbour Alaa while writing news articles on reactions to the ongoing situation. But before the big event occurs I was immediately emotionally drawn into the story with Alaa's description of the death of his beloved grandmother. I felt his deep sense of grief which is represented in the often repeated metaphor: “Longing for you is like holding a rose of thorns!” It's touching how her charismatic presence and staunch devotion to Jaffa seem to fill this novel even though she dies at the very beginning. Her loss which proceeds the entire Palestinian people's disappearance seems to underpin a question posed in various ways throughout the novel: what remains in a physical landscape after part of its people and their culture have gone or been destroyed?

It was compelling how the initial disappearance of the Palestinians is viewed from a number of different characters in the community whose lives are immediately impacted by the loss. Inconveniences and larger immediate problems such as the loss of manual labour, delayed buses, closed shops and the cancellation of a medical operation gradually build to larger tensions concerning how the State of Israel will function without any Palestinian Arabs. The state anxiously requires that everyone must register their citizenship as a way of definitively categorising who belongs and who doesn't. I appreciated how the author represented a wide range of perspectives from highly prejudiced to fearful to sympathetic to indifferent. From what I understand some of these points of view were taken from or at least inspired by real interviews and speeches. Though we're only given a small glimpse of a number of characters' lives, I found the way this was structured to be effective because it gave a snapshot of so many different voices and reactions. It shows the deep seeded dangerous rhetoric believed by some that Israel is the only democratic nation in this area and the Palestinian Arabs are a threatening inconvenient presence that need to be controlled. However, others assume that their disappearance must have been somehow orchestrated by the Israeli state and worry for their welfare.

I found it interesting how both Alaa and Ariel's fathers are absent for different reasons and how the reasons for their fathers' deaths influence each man's beliefs and how they are perceived within their communities. Though they are friends and there are accounts of how they socialised with one another, there are also sections which describe how they have very different beliefs which stem from competing ideological stances and their respective positions within the society. Initially I felt uncertain how much I believed in their friendship and I think that's partly with how the novel is structured, but I gradually came to feel that they have quite a complicated connection with each other. In particular, there's a very powerful scene where Alaa has a very public rant at how Ariel isn't seeing his point of view.

Ariel is quite a complicated figure as he's in some ways liberal but also adheres to Zionist beliefs. Alarming scenes from his past are gradually shown and it also grows increasingly disturbing how Ariel freely colonizes Alaa's apartment even though he's only been gone a short time. Ariel reads Alaa's notebook, sleeps in his bed, drinks his wine and finally plans to change the locks. Though they shared a friendship, it feels like Ariel reverts to the stance that any space which is abandoned by Palestinians can be freely taken and he feels justified in doing so. However, there's a tension because he hears noises as if the space is being haunted or that Alaa may return at any moment to reclaim his space. There's also an unsettling painting in Alaa's apartment of a cloaked figure staring out as if continuing to bear witness.

One of the most devastating sections of the novel concerns a much older former Israeli soldier named Dayan's memory of witnessing and being involved with the rape and terrorisation of an Arab woman and man. He's continued seeing the woman on the street for many years but now that the Palestinians have vanished he's not able to ask her for forgiveness and paradoxically he resents her for depriving him of that opportunity. This passage seemed to function as both a literal account, but it's also symbolic of how if the Palestinians were to disappear there would be no way for the Israelis to atone for their oppressive actions. Some members of my bookclub posed an intriguing question considering whether the woman in this section is Alaa's grandmother and if Dayan is related to Ariel. It certainly seems possible but I didn't think this was the case because I believe the woman disappears with the other Palestinians rather than dying before that occurrence, but maybe that's my own interpretation. I'd be keen to hear if other readers wondered this or have other theories/possible answers.

The novel feels somewhere between a documentary and piece of speculative fiction to me. The points of view of various individuals give a sense of the narrative a nation creates about itself to justify its actions and policies. This statement stood out to me: “An illusion is enough to live the lie that later becomes the truth.” As the Palestinians are being pushed out of the country, imprisoned or killed there's the danger their narrative and point of view will disappear or be erased. Alaa maintains a notebook partly because “I write to remember, and to remind, so memories are not erased. Memory is my last lifeline.” Though the novel describes a fantastical occurrence which is never explained it doesn't feel as much like speculative fiction because the disappearance of the Palestinians has been occurring in a literal way ever since the beginning of the Nakba and 1948 events which the grandmother recalls.

Some readers have expressed concerns over whether this novel gives a balanced take on this conflict given the author is Palestinian. Certainly the writer is coming from a certain point of view and she's also a journalist. However, this isn't an article or piece of non-fiction. It's a novel and like all artistic creations is by its very nature from a subjective perspective. I'm in no way an expert in this conflict, but the atrocities being experienced by both Palestinians and Israelis in the region is well documented. This novel made me think about the recent documentary 'No Other Land' (which won an Oscar earlier this year.) It feels especially relevant given that at the centre of the documentary is a friendship between an Israeli and Palestinian who are activists. It's a really powerful film and I'd highly recommend watching it.

Overall, I felt that this novel meaningfully shows how a place truly comes to life through the multiplicity of experiences and perspectives of its different citizens. The grandmother viewed Jaffa in a certain way. Alaa viewed it a different way. And Ariel views it another way. Just as Alaa longs to speak with his grandmother again to see her perspective, Ariel desires to speak with Alaa. So the loss of each individual is not only a physical absence but mean that an essential part of this place's character has also been lost. Though this is a very specific story its concept and ideas could easily be applied to many different areas of the world which have been colonized or where there are deep seeded conflicts between different cultures, religions or nationalities. It made me think of the novel “Exit West” by Mohsin Hamid as it uses a fantastical occurrence as a way to differently consider a larger political issue. As some readers have remarked and Azem has cited Jose Saramago's excellent novel “Blindness” also feels like an influence. But Azem still does something very unique in this book – not least of which is portray a grandmother/grandchild connection which feels very emotional and true.

Stag Dance by Torrey Peters

I had such a fantastic time reading this book! It's smart, joyful, scary, sexy, challenging, weird and messy in the best possible way. The three short stories and novella included in this collection range wildly in style and subject matter, but all of them imaginatively inspire different ways of thinking about gender and trans experience. There's a manufactured contagion where everyone must choose and maintain whether they are female or male. At a boarding school a popular guy pursues his secret desires with the soft body of his roommate while boisterous lads demonstrate their masculinity. A week-long Las Vegas event for cross-dressers and trans women leads a vulnerable individual to make an extremely tense decision. And, in the book's titular longest story, a group of lumberjacks perform a unique ritual to satisfy the simmering repressed desires which accompany living in an isolated remote forest. These tales dramatise how none of us simply inhabit pure masculinity or femininity but exist in different shades which are constantly changing. The collection also cleverly probes the blurred lines between being cis and trans and questions whether such lines even exist.

After Torrey Peters' breakout “Detransition, Baby” many have been eagerly awaiting the next book and some will no doubt be disappointed that this follow up isn't a novel. However, the imaginative range found in these stories make each of them memorable. They show how the strength and support which can be found within communities, friendships, relationships and sisterhood are also accompanied by instances of jealousy and backstabbing. Within all groups there are hierarchies based on relative beauty and power, but especially amongst marginalised communities. These things can be difficult to discuss and it's brilliant how Peters gets into the nuance of individual experience in this imaginative fiction. I admire that she doesn't feel the need to sanitise this complexity or present virtuous examples of queer life. There are desires which some can only admit online or under certain circumstances and which morph as they leak into reality. I found it highly relatable the vulnerability some of these characters experience as they tentatively step into a like-minded community and relationships. It can be so disorientating and frightening trying to forge real connections while still trying to figure yourself out and avoid those who want to take advantage of naïve newcomers. Peters presents all this in a way which doesn't shrink from this darkness but it also feels celebratory and so very funny. This is queer excellence.

Under the Eye of the Big Bird by Hiromi Kawakami (translated by Asa Yoneda)

“Under the Eye of the Big Bird” is definitely not a traditional sort of novel but more like islands of events separated by space and time. Hundreds (or even thousands) of years sometimes pass between sections. The chapters aren't chronological either. These could be taking place far in the distant future or perhaps the past. Certain characters seem to overlap between sections, but often these turn out to be distant relations or clones of their predecessors who use the same name. Some advanced technological progress has been made (being able to sync consciousness with others, hovercrafts) but other technologies like flying airplanes has been lost and then later hovercrafts become outmoded. There are references to calamitous events which nearly wipe out the world's human population or periods of environmental instability, but the focus is on the experience of various individuals caught in the circumstances of their particular time and community. Some of their lives more closely resemble our own, but others have been genetically modified or evolved to have different physiological traits (extra eyes, the ability for photosynthesis, etc), extra-sensory powers or artificial intelligence. Lifespans drastically differ from story to story so that some individuals only live for a few decades while others live for hundreds of years. Rather than following any individual's story across the narrative, this book is more concerned with the destiny or a possible eventual extinction or rebirth of the human race. In its quest to survive and adapt throughout the ages questions are raised concerning identity, community, intelligence, creativity, motherhood, romance and religion.

While reading this book I felt like the ground was constantly shifting under my feet as whenever I thought I could almost grasp a timeline or character's trajectory things would change. At first I tried to map out what was happening but this soon proved to be too difficult and I decided instead to let the story wash over me instead of trying to follow it like a traditional narrative. I was glad I did this because it meant I was able to ease into and enjoy where the novel took me even though I felt very disorientated. The story also (somewhat) comes together in the final two chapters where previous events are somewhat over-explained. Now that I know the meaning of many of this story's puzzle pieces I think if I went back and reread it I'd see more clearly how they all fit together. I'd be eager to do so at some point because I think this book is quite a creative imaginative feat and I'm fascinated how it challenges many of our assumptions about free will and predestination based on genetics, social engineering or technology. Later on in the novel it's observed “While you may believe that you have freely adopted your values out of the entire field of possibilities, that is hardly the case. From the beginning, your limited value systems are built up only in a single, predetermined direction.”

A curious small detail which is mentioned a couple times in the early sections of the novel is a carousel. This image haunted me while reading the book because a carousel feels very reminiscent of childhood and this novel often focuses on young people trying to orientate themselves and develop in a world which is often strangely different from what we know. Like a revolving carousel when it stops the era where these individuals end up is subject to chance. And the carousel spinning around also comes to feel like civilisation itself going through the same cycles across thousands of years. Being spun around is also very disorientating – much like the experience of reading this book! Perhaps I'm reading too much into it but this came across as quite a symbolic image which stuck with me throughout the novel.

I enjoyed how a collective who jointly raise the children in many of the communities within the stories are merely referred to as “the mothers”. This feels quite mysterious at first but it's eventualyl explained. Except for the few great mothers “the mothers” are only referred to as a collective. This made me think of “Embers of the Hands”, the non-fiction book on Vikings I read recently. The author Eleanor Barraclough remarks how almost all the historical Viking personalities we know about are male warriors and male leaders because that's what is recorded in legends and history. However, there obviously wouldn't be a next generation if there hadn't been women there giving birth, raising children and caring for the family. I wondered if Kawakami was partly referring to this sense of limited historical knowledge when using the anonymous label of “the mothers” because there's often no other way for us to know these past generations of women who ensured the survival of our species. When the identity of “the mothers” is revealed it's fascinating how this challenges traditional notions of what form nurturing should take. Being guided through time by “the mothers” is different to the often-destructive unwieldy and war-torn direction where (often) male leaders take society. It's remarked at one point that “It is never guaranteed that those of you who hold positions of power are able to look firmly and unblinkingly into the future of their own. If anything, in fact, it is more common that once you gain such positions, you become disconnected from a rational point of view.”

Individual identity is also confused as specific people are cloned to continue throughout history and retain memories of the past. This uncertainty comes into the narrative with the use of pronouns where in one section there is little distinction between “you” or “me” and in another part it's declared “Every me is me.” One tribe only uses numbers rather than names. The genetic makeup of some are mixed with technology or animals so this raises the question of what makes us human and what makes us unique. In one section there's a question over whether a character named Emma Jackson is human because she has special powers but she declares “I was as human as they were, but I could never be one of them.” A popular topic in our culture at the moment is the concern about what impact AI will have on the entertainment industry – if music, novels and movies start being AI generated does this mean the death of creativity or won't that matter if they still produce satisfying experiences? I think Kawakami is encouraging us to contemplate all these issues. We see throughout the book how individuals spring up who are different and creative (even if they've not been raised or programmed to be so.) One child loves to dance and continuously expresses herself in this way. Other characters fall in love and/or feel inclined to mate with one another even if they've not been authorised to do so by the watchers or overseeing government. So the personality of individuals and innovation breaks through cracks in this oftentimes rigidly structured society. This is sometimes encouraged and other times it's repressed/eliminated – such as a shocking scene where an individual becomes violently intolerant about a certain tribe.

So this book obviously raises lots of interesting things to consider by contemplating human civilization over a long span of time, but does that make it a satisfying read or just an intellectual exercise? Personally I was delighted by its weirdness, surprising variations in human life/social organisation that pop up over the span of years and how it questions the nature of humanity. However, it required an adjustment of expectation about what I wanted from the story. There were certain sections I'd have liked to know more about and sometimes just when I was getting a clear understanding about the complexities of a certain character the novel moved on. Oddly horrific elements like an instance of consensual cannibalism aren't developed as much as they could have been. Because of the structure, it required a lot of explanation from whoever was narrating that particular section about the nature of the present reality. I felt some narrators worked better than others. When the narrator had to overtly explain the structure of the current society in order to make it clear for the reader it felt forced – such as the chapter 'The Lake' and also 'Destination'. While this later section helpfully explained so much it also came across as a little too tidy and information-laden for me.

I found it exhilarating how this novel encouraged me to think about big questions concerning civilisation from a unique point of view. Its ambitious structure means that character development is often sacrificed so I'm not sure it worked as well as “Oryx and Crake” by Margaret Atwood or some other far-future set literary sci-fi. However, it clearly does something different and the author didn't intend to develop a traditionally structured plot. I was impressed by its creativity and the surprising strangeness of various sections. It's also satisfying how the final chapter gives the book a pleasingly circular feel and turns it into a unique origin story.

Women's Prize Shortlist 2025

Here are the 6 novels shortlisted for the 2025 Women's Prize for Fiction! It's a surprising group, but I'm sure these books will inspire a lot of discussion and a range of opinions. There are an impressive four debut novels here (“The Safekeep”, “Fundamentally”, “The Persians” and “Good Girl”). There are also established authors such as Elizabeth Strout and multi-faceted artist Miranda July (whose novel “All Fours” has been nominated for many different book awards.) Yael Van Der Wouden was also shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize. Many of the novels utilize humour and satire to explore serious ideas and stories. Issues to do with belonging seem to be a strong theme throughout these titles – whether it's belonging in a nation, a culture, a home or a family. I've currently read five from this list and feel it's a good group overall. I'm most disappointed not to see the novel “Nesting” by Roisin O'Donnell here as that's been my favourite from the longlist so far. So it's really difficult to know which way the judges might go when picking a winner on June 12. I'm also keen on reading more books from the shortlist for the Women's Prize for Non-Fiction.

What do you think of the shortlist? Are there any novels you're keen on reading or that you're disappointed weren't listed? Let me know all your thoughts.

The Persians by Sanam Mahloudji

This entertaining and exhilarating debut novel is like a literary equivalent of the show 'Absolutely Fabulous'. At the beginning of the story outspoken, materialistic and status-obsessed Shirin is accused of attempted prostitution by an undercover policeman. With her lofty manner she utterly dismisses the accusation, but her conscientious niece Bita obtains legal representation and helps build a case for Shirin who is at risk of losing her American event planning business, serving jail time and having her US visa revoked so that she'd need to return to her native Iran. The dynamic between Shirin and Bita is irresistibly funny as the former acts hideously while the later strives to do what's morally responsible.

Shirin's case is at the centre of this novel, but the story builds out to represent the lives of multiple generations of Iranian women who come from a once illustrious family. Shirin's mother Elizabeth and daughter Niaz who continue to live in Iran also contend with their own struggles. As events unfold and secrets are uncovered the truth brushes uncomfortably against how these women have defined themselves. As Elizabeth remarks at one point, “We are so far from what we think we are in our minds, you and me.” It's interesting how the story portrays how expectations and cultural understanding shift with each succeeding generation. It delves into the tumultuous recent history of Iran and explores shifting hierarchies within current Persian culture. Each woman is strong-willed in her own way as this family navigates the world and contends with an inherited sense of entitlement. This was a very enjoyable novel though it sometimes focuses more on comic hijinks than the heart of the story.