Questions around our individual and collective beliefs, and the consequences of holding them close to our hearts, form the basis of Nussaibah Younis’s stinging and entertaining debut novel. Nadia is a lecturer in criminology at UCL whose latest academic article on Islamic State brides has garnered global attention. Now the UN has its eyes on her. Her research, which asks questions such as, “What’s the appropriate punishment for IS brides who didn’t commit any violent crimes?”, “Can we detain people just because of their beliefs?” and “Should we try to change their beliefs?”, takes her to Iraq, where she’s tasked with leading a UN deradicalisation organisation: UNDO. But, she discovers, “half the UN doesn’t believe in deradicalisation”.
Escaping a “juvenile heartbreak” and a strenuous relationship with her mother, Nadia arrives in Baghdad with high hopes of “women helping women”. Before long, her bubble bursts, and she comes face to face with the opacity and sanctimony for which foreign aid bodies are notorious. “Since a bombing in 2003, the [UN] compound had crouched in defensive posture. The UN mission, meant to be temporary, was now 16 years old and larger than ever. Instead of becoming a beacon of democracy, Iraq had lunged from one civil war to another, and the UN had twisted around the carcass like knotweed.” How can one person possibly make a difference after decades of systemic failure? Over 300 pages, the novel teases out the ethical, political, emotional and social ramifications of putting her theory into practice.
Written in a close first person, Nadia’s voice is electric and brash, suffused with fervour and rendered without a filter. Throughout the novel, she oscillates between extreme self-doubt and extreme self-assuredness (“You’re on another level, Nadia. This is some real, legacy-defining shit”). She second guesses her own beliefs and prejudices versus those peddled by individuals and organisations in power.
When she meets Sara, a British Asian who joined Islamic State at 15, and is now in a refugee camp in the Iraqi countryside, she finally finds her purpose. The novel follows Nadia’s attempts at making a case for her repatriation. Sara is sceptical of the rehabilitation programme: “What bait spying shit is this?”; “The UN is definitely not a colonial conspiracy that gives fake legal cover to Western war crimes”. But Nadia is utterly charmed by her: “that bolshiness, the vulnerability it undoubtedly masked, the way she reminded me of my teenage self – right down to the diamanté headscarf and the post-colonial theory-based backchat”.
Surrounded by a varied cast of colleagues, each with their own motivations and understanding of right and wrong, Nadia crosses ethical and legal boundaries along the way. She also reconciles with her mum, and reckons with the cause of their fallout: her Muslim faith, which had once “nourished and sustained” her, but “curdled” over time. Much like England Is Mine by Nicolas Padamsee, the novel explores the vulnerability of teenagers alienated from family and society, who are simply in search of a sense of belonging.
Near the end of the novel, Nadia finds that she has an “ungrateful refugee problem”. Despite all her best efforts, Sara still thinks of her as a “slag with a saviour complex”, and Nadia isn’t sure which side of history – or the truth – she stands on. Will the two women ever believe the best in people, or themselves?
Younis tackles radicalism and racism, faith and friendship, with dexterity, deep care and a large dose of laughter. Reading Fundamentally is like sitting through an action-packed blockbuster as the plot twists and turns, and as Nadia jumps through systemic and bureaucratic hoops to save the day. You find yourself rooting for her, even if you don’t always agree with, or believe in, her methods and motives. The novel is bitingly witty, and full of pungent jokes, but it also has a strong emotional pull. Fundamentally exposes the bureaucracy, hypocrisy and corruption widespread across both academia and activism, but its success lies in teaching us that repair and healing are slow, and never straightforward, processes.
• Fundamentally by Nussaibah Younis is published by W&N (£16.99). To support the Guardian and the Observer buy your copy from guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
