Fundamentally

by Nussaibah Younis

A wildly funny and razor-sharp exploration of love, family, religion and the decisions we make in pursuit of belonging.

‘By normal, you mean like you? A slag with a saviour complex?’

Nadia is an academic who’s been disowned by her puritanical mother and dumped by her lover, Rosy. She decides to make a getaway, accepting a UN job in Iraq. Tasked with rehabilitating ISIS women, Nadia becomes mired in the opaque world of international aid, surrounded by bumbling colleagues.

Sara is a precocious and sweary East Londoner who joined ISIS at just fifteen.

Nadia is struck by how similar they are: both feisty and opinionated, from a Muslim background, with a shared love of Dairy Milk and rude pick-up lines. A powerful friendship forms between the two women, until a secret confession from Sara threatens everything Nadia has been working for.

Genres: Fiction, Contemporary, LGBT, Literary Fiction, Audiobook, Queer, Book Club

321 pages, Paperback

First published February 25, 2025

Reviews

[emma · Rating 2 out of 5]

who among us hasn't experienced heartbreak so intense we'd accept a potentially immoral international job offer from the united nations?

this is a very fun idea for a book, obviously. unfortunately, i didn't find it fun.

this is a humorous take on a surprising subject: our protagonist, nadia, a real hot mess / hoot whose british drunkenness and casual sex in any other bridget jones-like iteration would have charmed me, accepts a job "deradicalizing" a group of women who have been brainwashed into joining isis and are now imprisoned in a foreign camp.

i know. shock value.

i was really excited to read this because it's based on the author's real experiences, which very few people have, but she might as well have made it all up for all the insights we actually glean.

i think the commentary around the UN and other institutions is genuinely funny, and the beginnings of just how out of place nadia is, but as the book wore on and never took itself seriously on these very serious subjects, i got frustrated. this author has real expertise, but she never shows it to us.

nadia is supposed to be working to send these women home, but instead she becomes obsessed with a teen she sees as herself, then she gives up and the book ends. in the last pages, we get a strange "where are they now" for the various bureaucrats we've met and no mention of the hundreds of women who are still trapped.

this is objectively funny and well-written, and i would love if this author could use her powers of jokes on anything i can find humorous in the future.

bottom line: i really wanted to like this one, so please don't yell at me.

(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)

[Ana Paula Moraes · Rating 2 out of 5]

Oh man, I was really looking forward to this book, but reading it was honestly painful. Fundamentally had all the potential to be a gripping, thought-provoking novel, but instead, it fell completely flat for me.

We follow Nadia, a thirty-something PhD in criminology, who, despite her academic background, behaves like someone who either cheated her way through her degree or lost all critical thinking skills after a bad breakup. She is recruited for an incredibly important job—one directly related to her thesis—but instead of acting like the intelligent professional she is supposed to be, she comes across as clueless, self-centered, and shockingly unprepared. The fact that she’s working for the United Nations, of all places, makes this even more frustrating. She takes the job not out of genuine interest or commitment, but simply to run away from her personal problems. And then, despite being in a role that should require her to focus on broad, systemic issues, she fixates on helping one woman. I get that personal connections can be powerful, but the way it’s framed in the book feels misguided. The idea that humanitarian work should be about reaching as many people as possible is a valid one, and yet the novel reduces it to a single case that, for some reason, becomes the center of Nadia’s attention.

Beyond that, Nadia’s character just isn’t likable. She doesn’t care about her colleagues, feels detached from her work, and moves through the story with a level of self-absorption that made it impossible for me to root for her. The lack of character depth extends beyond her—the entire cast feels shallow, making it hard to invest in the narrative.

Another major issue was the tone. I genuinely couldn’t tell if the book was trying to be sarcastic, critical, or funny. For such a serious subject matter, the inconsistent tone made it difficult to gauge the author’s intent. Was this supposed to be a satirical take on humanitarian work? A rom-com disguised as a political novel? A biting critique of international organizations? I honestly have no idea.

By page 193, I was dragging myself through and seriously considering DNF-ing. The writing felt scattered, and I struggled to care about anything that was happening. The plot lacked engagement, and while there were some beautiful passages about the resilience of the Iraqi people, those moments were buried under the frustrating portrayal of the protagonist. It’s a shame, because with stronger execution, this could have been a much more powerful and insightful book.

And then there’s the ending—unsatisfying, too neat, and lacking real consequences. Everything seemed to resolve itself in a way that didn’t feel earned. Given that this book is based on some of the author’s experiences, it either veered too far from reality, making it unbelievable, or it’s uncomfortably close to reality, which is just… concerning.

Overall, Fundamentally had a strong premise but completely failed in its execution. The protagonist was unbearable, the narrative lacked clarity, and the story ultimately didn’t live up to its potential. I really wanted to like this one, but unfortunately, it just didn’t work for me.

[Sunny Lu · Rating 4 out of 5]

Genuinely hilarious and unputdownable. The politics of victimhood, self immolation and codependency and expectations in love, and the insane politics of the UN— I was heaving with laughter at so many lines and heartbroken for these characters at other points. The general pro-nuclear family element of it set me off though, since I’m a family abolition girlie through and through. However, I understand its purpose in this story, which was a bit maternally Freudian in its themes as well. Islam, terrorism, and the academic/practical divide themes all came through in a fantastic way though, you can really tell the author has lots of firsthand experience with this shit. An unbelievably funny and emotionally incisive novel. Highly recommend!

[Constantine · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Contemporary Fiction + LGBTQ

Nussaibah Younis' debut novel, Fundamentally, explores the complexities of international aid and deradicalization through the story of Nadia, an academic working with the UN in Iraq. After a difficult breakup, Nadia takes on the challenging task of rehabilitating ISIS women, immersing herself in the intricate world of humanitarian efforts and the contentious nature of her work.

When Nadia arrives in Iraq, she realizes that the task ahead of her is much larger than she anticipated and that she may not be the best person for the job. Nevertheless, she embraces the challenge and resolves to pursue her mission in her own way. Along the way, she encounters various personalities, some of whom become significant to her journey.

The story is thought-provoking and sensitive, exploring themes such as terrorism, religion, deradicalization, and the complex issues that accompany them. However, the novel tends to oversimplify these themes, which is likely intentional given the author's choice to adopt a humorous tone throughout the book.

For a debut novel, this was a decent read. Would I recommend it to every reader? Probably not. While some situations were quite funny, providing humor for those seeking it, I don’t believe the book will appeal to all readers looking for a lighthearted experience. Additionally, the novel's portrayal of Islamic culture and religious beliefs often leans towards Western stereotypes, which may disappoint readers who understand the basics of the religion. If you can overlook the story's shortcomings, give it a chance; you might find it enjoyable.


Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with the ARC of this book.

[Niharika (severely inactive) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Imagine being dumped so hard that voluntarily going to the Middle East in the middle of a literal war zone seems like a good idea.

[Ann Dewar · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’ve seen lots of reviews extolling the importance and brilliance of this debut novel and I love the fact that the author is someone who is genuinely writing about something she knows and that few readers will have firsthand experience of.. However, that made this novel even more disappointing when it failed to deliver any real insight into the aid workers or the camps.

The protagonist, Nadia, travels to Iraq after a bad break up with her longtime girlfriend. On sabbatical from her newly won lectureship, she plans to put her thesis on the de-radicalisation of Isis brides into practice. My issue with is that she is never especially serious about the cause, it feels like a convenient niche for her to run away to rather than a genuine commitment.

Nadia’s sexual incontinence juxtaposes uncomfortably with the joyless unions of the Isis women but doesn’t offer any kind of meaning. Both seem to be merely stereotypes that both sides of the divide would use against each other.

The UN, Save the Children and every other aid agency depicted comes across as peopled by hordes of immature, selfish and avaricious individuals more interested in their own interests than in the job in hand.

Similarly Sara, seemingly the sole focus of Nadia’s placement, comes across as an Isis bride version of AliG. I found the dialogue implausible and the humour puerile. Nadia constantly swearing and behaving like a ‘90’s ladette whilst supposedly representing serious issues in negotiations felt (I hope and pray) unbelievable.

I felt as though this book was trying to be too many things at once and so ended up not delivering on any of them.

With thanks to NetGalley, the author and publisher for an arc of this novel in exchange for my honest opinion.

[Clair · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wish this novel took itself a little more seriously because I had a really hard time trying to reconcile the gravity of the book's subject matter with the overall tone. I think maybe the point is to reach a certain kind of reader who maybe would not be familiar with UN policies, ISIS brides, or world affairs in general and to have a teaching moment. It seems from the author's note that the author actually has experiences on these topics, but I did not really get that from the pages of this book. The outlandish characters really proved a distraction of what this book is supposed to be about. At 75% I found the absolute drama of it all pretty difficult to get through. I really struggled to finish this one.

I received an e-arc from Netgalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

[iCod · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really hated this book- dragged myself to the end.

You don’t need to add a chick style comedy sex and drugs to what is already a really interesting topic. All the characters were pretty unlikable and largely cartoon style. Just awful.

[Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé · Rating 5 out of 5]

"'Are you lost?" Only physically, emotionally and psychologically."

This was possibly the funniest book I have ever read.

[Kate O'Shea · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's funny how the book you expect to be the most serious turns out to be incredibly entertaining. For all her academic work Nussaibah Younis has turned out an extremely amusing and thoughtful piece of fiction.

Fundamentally follows Nadia, newly employed by the UN during a sabbatical, to set up a new group that will (hopefully) deradicalise ISIS brides. Nadia travels to Iraq where she meets Sara, a young woman separated from the babe she had with one of her ISIS fighter husbands. Something about the young woman calls to Nadia and she sets out to help her get her child back and get free of ISIS.

There are some very funny moments in this book, not least of which deal with the bureaucracy set up to deal with refugees. Nadia and her colleagues have very different styles of "help" including employing a hippy Sheikh from California to help rehabilitate the women.

Both Sara and Nadia are very engaging characters. The story of their flight from the camp and to safety is (obviously) far from reality but the story is about so much more than the mechanics.

This story is more about belief, faith, love and family. It is about how we navigate the world through our beliefs and how important family is in the end.

Loved it. Highly recommended.

Thankyou to Netgalley and Orion Publishing Group for the advance review copy. Most appreciated.

[Tanya Brennan · Rating 1 out of 5]

This was such a painful read.

The author reproduces orientalist and Islamophobic stereotypes that I thought had to be satire at times. The whole book is clearly catered to a white liberal gaze and is very juvenile and lacking any nuance for the major issues it tries to tackle. The only thing that felt spot on was the portrayal of the UN staff, who I believe the author has more in common with than she would care to think.

Enjoyment of this book would make a fantastic benchmark for measuring how underdeveloped an individual’s political critical thought is, so that is something at least.

[Neha · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5
Fundamentally was a conundrum for me. Review after review sings its praise, calling it sharp, and hilarious. But I found myself wanting for the promised highs that never came. The book is marketed as a satire-comedy layered with (1) an exploration of LGBTI identity, (2) sweeping social commentary on misogyny and freedom of thought, speech, and expression, and (3) a redemptive arc through tangled personal and family dynamics. In its second half, it also dabbles in thriller territory before settling into a feel-good ending. Nearly every character finds a resolution — a little too neatly, and much too easily. In the end, there is no getting away from the fact that you need to suspend belief to stay invested in the plot’s plausibility and the protagonist’s access, influence, and outcomes.

At the heart of the book is Dr Nadia Amin, a British Muslim academic reeling from a breakup, and semi-estranged from her conservative mother. In her quest for Professorship, she accepts a job with UN in Iraq to lead a deradicalization/rehabilitation program for former ISIS women. In real life, neither academia, nor the UN operates as a utopia where one singular published article can get you Professorship or be head hunted to the UN. In Iraq, Nadia meets Sara, a precocious, and acerbic teenager, who left the UK at 15 and joined ISIS (Sara’s character is heavily modelled on Shamima Begum). Their shared backgrounds (brown, British Muslim women dealing with family estrangement, alienation, identity and religion) lead Nadia to develop a natural affinity, then an unhealthy obsession with Sara.

Younis’ debut is oddly reminiscent of Mustafa Marwan’s 2024 debut, Guns and Almond Milk. Both tackle similar terrains — war, identity, aid work, and moral complexity — through characters who straddle cultures and allegiances. Both centre protagonists with hyphenated identities: Archer, in Guns and Almond Milk, is an adopted British-Egyptian; Nadia, in Fundamentally, is a disowned British-Pakistani. Surprisingly (or not), both have been dumped by their white lovers; the rejections propelling them to seek a ‘distraction’ to forget, and which comes in the form of an ‘impossible’ job in a ‘dangerous’ location. The “wounded heart seeks reinvention through geographic and emotional displacement” is a familiar literary formula. Here, it may be considered literary progress that a brown protagonist gets to tell this story of wrestling with the past, fleeing a conveniently conservative family, and trying to make sense of it all in a war zone. But truth be told, in my fifteen years in the field, I’ve yet to meet a single brown homie doing the gig to heal from some tragic, romantic breakup. Most of us are here because the exchange rates are fabulous — and if we do get our hearts broken, it’s usually someone in the compound you get the joy of facing every day thereafter. It’s a telling sign then of how Younis approached this story from outside looking in – and how, in many ways, she remains an outsider to the world she’s writing about.

The “irreverence as a defence mechanism” trope is overdone. Nearly every second line (especially in the first half of the book) leans on some form of sexual innuendo or millennial joke, which feel wildly out of place. The tone swings between slapstick and sincere, without managing to land comfortably in either. Sometimes Nadia is Bridget Jones’ politically exhausted cousin, deeply aware of how absurd her life has become. Like Bridget, Nadia’s inner monologues are self-deprecating, chaotic, and emotionally messy. Simultaneously, Nadia also strives to be the mocking, yet ostensibly conscious vocality of Charlie Hebdo— funny about things we’re taught not to laugh about: war, radicalization, religion, and gendered violence. What results is uneven, and frustrating, a reading experience where the humour feels forced, repetitive and unequivocally unfunny.

With her incessant swearing, self-sabotaging, and "gopnitsa" persona, Nadia feels like a parody of herself. Her relationships with others (except Sara) are utilitarian at best. Until the end, Nadia remains obsessed with her own obsessions—her mother, Rosy, and then Sara (who becomes a conduit for Nadia’s unresolved grief at being abandoned by both her mother and Rosy). Nadia trudges through the story with a saviour complex that peaks as she self-appoints herself the liberator and plots Sara’s “rescue mission” (which miraculously comes together after a few phone calls, another impossibility in real life), convinced that her trauma grants her the moral license to make life altering choices for Sara, and have them respected. Yet she looks down on others for displaying similar motivations, forgetting to examine her own motives, and failing to recognise that she is just as complicit in using Sara for her own redemption.

The remaining characters similarly lean into familiar archetypes that verge on cartoonish. Of course Tom (security) is British, tall, with rippling muscles and golden hair and intellectually vacant. And of course Pierre is French, raised in political pedigree, gay, but morally ambiguous, and always ready with cynicism that somehow passes for depth. And of course Priya is the token overachieving South Asian colleague, scripted with ambition and edge but ultimately little depth. Her supposedly “open secret” relationship with Charles—who is, naturally, the stereotype of the charismatic, womanizing African male—is handled so flippantly that it collapses under its own predictability. And of course Lina the token senior brown woman holding it down in the boys’ club—too much edge, not enough nuance. Whereas Sherri is the performative liberal lesbian mouthing gibberish about feminism, lesbians and everything in between with the fervor of a BuzzFeed think piece. In a story that gestures toward complexity, these characters remain disappointingly static, their emotional and moral landscapes flattened in service of Nadia’s existential meltdown.

These are then not characters so much as tropes with job titles, and what’s more troubling is that they serve not just as lazy narrative scaffolding, but as a thinly veiled indictment of the UN system itself. Yes, the system is broken—slow, bureaucratic, often absurd. But these vacuous portrayals reduce that dysfunction to a cast of cartoonishly inept or self-serving internationals, offering a cynical generalisation that doesn't just stereotype, but risks perpetuating a one-note caricature of the aid world, that is in some parts, totally fabricated (the fact that a UN official will plot, plan and execute the escape of someone in detention in a camp overseen by a national government is in itself something implausible.) Most striking is the near-total absence of the Iraqi staff from the narrative—people who navigate complex local dynamics, build trust with affected communities, and often continue their efforts long after international staff have rotated out. That they are barely mentioned—let alone developed as characters—is telling. Their omission flattens the story’s portrayal of the humanitarian landscape, stripping it of the very people whose insight, labour, and lived experience form the backbone of these responses. By rendering them invisible, the book inadvertently replicates the same hierarchical gaze it seems to critique.

The book’s pacing is terribly uneven —the first half is spent entirely in a UN base in Baghdad, with Nadia mostly moaning and moping over Rosy (her ex-lover), her mother, and Tom, and trying to get a grip on herself, her surroundings and the reality of her job. When the book finally transitions to the detention camp, Nadia’s work with the ISIS-affiliated women—arguably the most ethically, politically, and emotionally complex part of the novel—is crammed into just a few hurried chapters. This portion, which could have offered a meaningful exploration of radicalization, trauma, justice, and redemption, is instead treated like a narrative afterthought. The women in the camp are sketched scarcely, their voices muted beneath Nadia’s own moral crisis and messiah complex. This compressed handling robs the narrative of any emotional resonance. There’s little space for the reader to sit with the complexity of the women’s choices, their histories, or their humanity. Instead, we’re left with fragments: glimpses of powerful stories, hinted-at dilemmas, and fleeting moments of poignancy that are never given the space to breathe or land.

The errant pacing ultimately undermines the books own ambitions, particularly its rushed and underdeveloped ending. Chapters are squandered detailing the dull minutiae of Nadia and Sara’s new life in Gaziantep, Turkey—scenes that offer little in terms of plot advancement or character development, and which feel more like filler than transition. When Nadia’s deeply cynical stance on religion is finally confronted—through her tense and emotionally charged exchanges with Sara—the novel appears to finally teeter on the edge of something profound. These moments are given neither the time nor weight they deserve. Instead, what follows borders on the absurd. Nadia’s solution to “de-radicalise” Sara involves flying in her estranged parents from the UK overnight and securing her a job at an NGO—achieved, no less, through the casual help of her NGO fling (another impossibility in real life.) It’s a fantastical leap that not only strains credulity but completely sidesteps the emotional and political complexities the novel had hinted at exploring. In the end, the novel doesn’t so much conclude as it collapses into convenience—where the gravity of the themes far outweighs the attention they’re given.

Fundamentally suffers from trying to be too many things at once. It wants to be sharp and subversive, emotionally resonant and politically astute, funny and profound. But in trying to juggle all these ambitions, it ends up diluting each one. This could have been a genuinely powerful novel. As it stands, it’s a messy, not very entertaining, but often frustrating read that feels more like a pilot pitch than a fully realised book.

[BookOfCinz · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am here for the dark humour

Dr. Nadia Amin is an academic who wrote an article on the possibility of rehabilitating ISIS brides, from this article she was offered a job by the UN to actually make the article a reality. Running from a heartbreak and being tired of academic Dr. Amin finds herself in Iraq trying to put together a programme for the ISIS brides. She is way out of her element, nothing seems to be going right and she wonders if she is built for this. Between the dust, bureaucracy and terror, she finds a bride she wants to help, but things aren’t always black and white.

Fundamentally asks bold questions: Who can tell someone what to believe? And how do you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?

I had so much fun reading this one. I think the author did a great job of walking the line of dark humour and creating awareness for real problems. I did laugh out loud at certain points, a very good read.

[Strega Di Gatti · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was trying to figure out why I didn’t vibe with this novel since development work is in my wheelhouse. While the setting and circumstances ring true, Fundamentally’s characters feel like YA stereotype cut-outs. Everyone’s personality traits are magnified for comedic effect, as if this is how Nussaibah Younis chose to turn her career experience into a biting satire.

Younis wanted to craft “In The Thick of It” but instead she gave us “Spitting Image”. The subject matter is extremely serious but is unexamined at a serious level, satirical or not. Most disappointingly, the sudden unearned change of heart by a major character at the end felt juvenile, particularly the convenient way it tied into the MFC’s personal narrative. 

Three stars for an original premise.

[Emily Clapp · Rating 2 out of 5]

The ISIS bride and UN insights were interesting and it felt like the author was well researched/familiar with the topic.

The characters though, yikes. Nadia was pretty terrible. She was so self righteous, had no self awareness, and was so self absorbed. She used everyone around her and they were all written like caricatures, none of them felt like real people. It sort of comes to bite Nadia in the end but not really. It just read like the ends justified the means.

[Rachel Baillie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Did not finish at 59%. The line that made me put the book down was this - “The real reward for not joining ISIS, I thought, was getting to fuck Tom instead of being raped by perverted geriatrics”. I found this so vile I’ve decided to stop reading.

I found the tone of this book completely mismatched for the subject matter. It’s written like a silly fanfiction or messy girl in her 20s romance novel.

The concept is one I found very interesting - a woman works for the UN to help ISIS brides stuck in Iraq to go home. However at 59% of the way through, we’ve learned little about the brides, ISIS or the conflict in the Middle East. Instead the author chose to write about the bureaucracy of the UN, which is so, so boring. My job also has bureaucracy. Every job does. I don’t want to read about approval processes and incompetent leadership in my spare time.

I also found Nadia vile. Is she meant to be so unlikable? Her inner monologue includes fatphobia and misogynistic comments which don’t align with someone who’s supposedly a humanities academic. Also why is she fucking Tom?? The book constantly shows us that he’s a chauvinistic pig, that Nadia also thinks this, and yet she’s acting all cutesy with him and saying how hot he is?

It’s not that I believe we can’t have humour and dark subject matter in the same place. However this missed the mark. My annoyance is probably fuelled by the fact that I’m volunteering with an Afghani refugee family who had their lives destroyed by ISIS, so I’m not interested in reading about how much fun the UN found family is having!!

My suggestions to improve this book - either make it a memoir (which is clearly is meant to be) and focus on facts, or give the concept to a more skilled writer who could give this story the respect it deserved. It could be a multi POV saga featuring the actual perspectives of the ISIS brides, other roles in the UN, the Americans, etc.

Rant over.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had intensely mixed feelings about Fundamentally, Nussaibah Younis's debut novel. It follows academic Nadia, who, dealing with her estrangement from her Muslim mother and a sudden break-up with her long-term girlfriend, takes a job with the United Nations deradicalising ISIS women in Iraq. This serious subject-matter is at odds with Nadia's voice, which is deliberately irreverent ('I was in my thirties and I'd had enough sex to know that devout Muslims have tedious chat and give crap head'), especially when bantering with Sara, a three-time ISIS widow at just nineteen who's originally from East London ('"I vote for Bin Laden," she said, without missing a beat./"I know. That's the entire problem, babe."'). I think what Younis is trying to do here is, in some ways, really interesting. Nadia obviously has very heavy-duty psychological defences, and her flippancy is a way of dealing with deep pain, especially around her relationship with her mother. It's a shame, though, that when she lurches into honesty, the writing becomes a bit turgid. Witnessing an anti-government demonstration in Baghdad, she reflects 'A sickly feeling rose through me, the unmistakable sensation of being in the wrong. I wished I was out there with the protesters... It felt shitty being on this side of the bulletproof glass; institutionalised, feckless and corrupt'.

Younis is trying to pull off something very difficult in balancing Nadia's raw internal journey, her satirical struggle within the UN, and her relationship with Sara, which blends the two. It's not surprising that it doesn't always work, and I felt the pacing was a little at fault. The novel spends too long in the UN base (it's about 40% of the book) before Nadia gets to the women's camp, drawing on what is clearly a wealth of funny stories from Younis's decade working in Iraq, though she was not herself employed by the UN. The tone becomes almost farcical, which is well and good, but it doesn't leave enough time for the more interesting material nearer the end of the novel, when Nadia's negative attitude to what was once her faith is challenged when she realises she and Sara have vastly diverging views on Islam.

Given that Nadia was a devout Muslim into her twenties, her knowledge of Islam feels shallow and, as other reviewers have pointed out, risks playing into Western stereotypes. This obviously wasn't Younis's intention and, as she clearly knows far more about Islam than I do, I think the idea here was to show how Nadia's mental blocks have led her to use lazy quips about the religion rather than deal with the pain of her mother's rejection. I wish Younis had left herself more space to explore all this in the final third as, without spoilers, I found the climax of the novel really moving and it was a shame that it felt a little rushed. Fundamentally is refreshingly original and ambitious, even if it makes some missteps, and I'm looking forward to Younis's next. 3.5 stars.

I received a free proof copy of this novel from the publisher for review.

[Mallory Alison · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75 stars for some sharp, dark humor in a West-meets-East backdrop; culture clashes present. Some of the comedy is so fantastic and biting!

The central themes include the nature of victimhood, the savior complex, the futility and contradiction of over-virtuous foreign intervention, and mother-daughter relationships. All are well covered, and I think this book provokes wonderful discussion. If I was in a book club, this would be my pick! So, here is my frustration. Albeit her flaws were deliberate and drove the plot, the main character is a “stage-5 clinger”. I found her annoying.

[Jaz · Rating 1 out of 5]

I couldn’t finish this book - I dragged myself through 100 pages and just couldn’t bring myself to do the rest.

The book sounded really interesting - a woman who works for the UN trying to rehabilitate ISIS wives - but the characters were unbearable, there wasn’t one I liked, and the book felt uneducated but also condescending the whole time.

This book just felt like 2013 fanfiction (the bad kind) where it was a mix of basic feminism and mocking LGBTQ+ people and activism?? Like I get it but I found myself physically rolling my eyes at every third sentence.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

Incredible.

What a veritable cake / onion of a book, with its many, many layers.

Fundamentally is about a fictional department of the UN attempting to repatriate women who have joined ISIS.

We follow heartbroken Nadia, who is recruited to run the programme to rehabilitate them. It doesn't take long for her to realise that swooping in to rescue these women may be more complicated than she imagined.

Here we have a razor-sharp and subtly scathing indictment of bureaucracy - from well-meaning incompetence, impractical idealism and red tape, to outright corruption and abuse of power.

Fundamentally lampoons both the system and the individuals that make it up. It is Kafkaesque, morally grey, and satirical in a way that's exaggerated enough for it to be funny, but close enough to be horribly, heart-sinkingly plausible.

Throughout the story, big themes are tackled - trafficking, exploitation, othering and alienation, religion and identity, fundamental values, family and friendship. It also poses some big questions without necessarily holding our hand to find the answers.

How the heck Nussaibah Younis manages to make this book funny is beyond me. But she pulls it off; I laughed out loud on several occasions. The humour is dark, observational, and quintessentially British.

Through fictional characters, dialogues, and Nadia's musings, we are presented with an orchestra of voices and perspectives. This alone is enough to make me recommend the book.

Despite hard-hitting commentary, ruthless parody, and a lot of pain, there was much about Fundamentally that was warm and healing by the end.

I wish more people in positions of power would read books like this.

[Anwen Hayward · Rating 4 out of 5]

(Review of an ARC via Netgalley)

I waited a few weeks to write this review so that it would consist of more than just variations of 'lol', given that this is genuinely one of the funniest books I've ever read. Nadia's narrative voice is absolutely hilarious, wry and witty and a complete disaster in ways that felt just close enough to real to anchor the book's ambitious premise. The secondary characters are vivid and alive, too - a particular special mention goes to an overly enthusiastic white feminist at the UN - and, for the most part, the narrative pushes itself along in a pacey fashion.

I don't personally know enough about Islam to comment on its rep here, but I did appreciate the nuance that Younis brings to it; we see the ways that Nadia's own life has been shaped by her mother's religious devotion, and we see the ways that the West often patronises people in majority Muslim countries by framing Islam as some kind of backwards, second rate religion, and how radicalisation can't be divested from the way that Islam has been stigmatised across the global North.

I think this novel is most successful in its satire of the UN, a huge, umbrella organisation which is always trying to spend and thus justify its budget, and ends up throwing huge parties for its delegates and paying bribes. The juxtaposition of the earnestness of its newer employees and the jaded resignation of corruption of its more seasoned workers is clear here, and we see it through Nadia's own journey, as she moves from lionising the UN and her job to realising the sheer mundanity of the bureaucratic loopholes she's forced to jump through. My only experience with the UN is once getting lost in their Swiss headquarters whilst trying to find a loo, but still, I thought that the white saviour aspect was tackled well here.

The only part that didn't work for me was the ending, which I thought was too neat and a little oddly paced - a lot happens in one chapter, then nothing for another two or three, and then it's all tied up rather suddenly. It felt unrealistic to me that the issue of radicalisation in one woman would be sorted so suddenly. I was so invested in the rest of the book that I think I wanted a bit more out of the ending.

Still, an absolute roaring hoot of a book. I don't think anyone else could have written this. Nussaibah Younis' very particular background (she's worked in deradicalisation in Iraq) could have written this without falling into the myriad obvious pitfalls. It's a tough sell to write a funny novel about ISIS brides, but against all odds, here it is, and it works.

[jocelyn • coolgalreading · Rating 4 out of 5]

i think a 3.5? i really liked it and the dialogue especially.

[Katherine Kirk · Rating 1 out of 5]

lost all faith in the women’s prize for fiction

[amie · Rating 3 out of 5]

”I’d heard that ISIS considered white converts to be the most desirable brides. Imagine feeling Europe for the land of Islam, and you’re still second fiddle to some white girl who’s lost control of her gap year.”


Nadia, disowned by her mother and dumped by her best friend X lover, accepts a job in Iraq with the task of de-radicalising ISIS brides. She meets Sarah, who joined ISIS at 15, and has the desperate urge to help her beyond her original scope. What could possibly go wrong?

Obviously, this is a minefield of a topic. Thankfully, as a globally recognised expert on Iraq who proposed programmes to rehabilitate women affiliated with ISIS, Younis is exactly the right person to attack it.

This book is extremely millennial, but in a self-aware way; that takes a Glamour / East London Bridget Jones approach to discussing sitting on faces and admiring Bin Laden’s beard. It’s brash and offensive, but with absolutely buckets of care for these vulnerable women in such a precarious situation.

The heart of the story is the women: a mother who temporarily disowns her daughter; said daughter semi coping with it; a queer relationship between two best friends, each with very different ideas of what it means; a boss and her team member, both belittled in the workplace for being women; and, ultimately, between a UN worker who sees so much of herself in an ex-Londoner ISIS bride.

Certainly one to watch out for in 2025.

[laurel [the suspected bibliophile] · Rating 5 out of 5]

When academic Nadia accepts a position in the UN to launch a deradicalization program in Iraq for women who had been in ISIS, she quickly realizes she's in over her overly optimistic head. Things go...awry.

Many years ago I read Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Iraq's Green Zone, and Fundamentally brought me right back to that book and the dysfunctional chest-thumping and bacchanalian debauchery I'd read about.

Nadia is a train wreck. An absolute, glorified train wreck who had just gotten out of an abusive and codependent relationship with the first person she'd ever been in a relationship with, and she was reeling so hard that she took a sabbatical from lecturing to go to work for the UN in Iraq. And yet, she tries—seeing herself in a teenage ISIS bride who had been radicalized young, Nadia decides she must rescue the girl at all costs.

There's a lot to unpack: religion, queerness, radicalization of women, the fuckery of government and local politics, cultural appropriation and cultural norms, and so much more that I'm missing.

Anywho, I enjoyed it quite a bit. Maybe I just like reading dark comedies about bisexual disasters.

[Ross · Rating 5 out of 5]

wow literally fuckin incredible

[Susie · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5

[Steffi · Rating 1 out of 5]

So, without a doubt, this was one of the worst books I've ever read.

I know why it was recommended to me (by my sister of all people!): "a woman working for the UN, Middle East, ISIS and such!"

(fun fact when my sister says "ISIS and such" she equally means Al Quaida, Hezbollah, Taliban, Hamas - all blurred into one broader set of "bearded men with strong religious outlooks" 🥹 👯‍♀️

I know there's a always a great risk when you read a piece of fiction that is set in your real life professional context. Inevitably you'll keep pointing out things that are 'unrealistic', that don't add up etc. That's not quite my point, I think. Or at least not only. Although I CRINGED pretty much non-stop at this chliche ridden representation of the UN's work. I don't know if this was supposed to be satire but then also, the art of satire can't be just absurd exaggeration. Obviously the stuff about the UN (broader aid structure), eg the self-serving nature, white saviors, colonial attitudes, bribing corrupt governments into political support, inter-agency competition and waste on bogus programmes that don't work is all partially true, sometimes more, sometimes less. BUT there could be a more clever and actually funny way to deal with this subject - unearthing the contradictions, complexities, and of course hubris, hypocrisy and vanity etc involved especially when it comes to the international community still dealing with the ISIS legacy of thousands of "ISIS brides" and children illegally held in Kurdish controlled detention (while the book is set in Iraq, the actual ISIS family detention camps are primarily in north-east Syria), somewhere outside of international law. Interesting, complicated, morally challenging stuff.

But the book is essentially trash, made for a western audience that is possibly just woke and interested enough to engage superficially with "ISIS and such", a bit of racism, religion, extremism but covered in enough sex and romance stuff to still be interesting. The book is nominated for some no name women fiction prize and I can imagine some women magazines recommending this as "wildly funny and razor sharp observations on this or that".

The narrator gave me some unpleasant flashbacks of Carrie from Homeland but a thousand times worse: a too cool for school, try-hard academic rocking up at the UN without any relevant experience, bossing around a bunch of cliche UN staff, using only swear language (UN folks may be cynical etc but no one talks like that. In reality, these opportunistic UN staffers would immediately scheme to get rid of the outsider, spending 100 percent of their time launching abuse of authority and harrassment complaints left, right and centre 🫣) to set up a bogus deradicalization ("rehabilitation") programme for ISIS brides held in detention.

Then - and I kid you not - the hero newbie UN worker helps smuggle out a detained East London ISIS bride and her child to Turkey only to party (and hook up) with the jaded aid working crowd in Gaziantep. It actually gets worse for the ending but I'll spare you from that as too cringe worthy.

There's a slight chance that I simply didn't get the joke, that my professional pride got in the way of me enjoying this great book.

But there's also a much higher chance that this is just trash set against an interesting geopolitical backdrop to generate attention and interest too fool people like my sister into thinking this was a great book :)

[Angie Miale · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fascinating premise. Very witty, doesn’t shy away from the horrors of radicalization while giving hope. Feeling grateful. These women were between a rock and a hard place.

[Monica Hills · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fundamentally was a look at a topic that I knew virtually nothing about. Nadia leaves London, after losing her best friend and sometimes lover, to rehabilitate ISIS brides through an agency at the UN. She travels to Iraq and learns that there is a lot of political red tape to be able to make a difference. She connects with one of the women, Sara, who reminds her of her younger self. After trying everything in her power, Nadia puts it all on the line to make a difference for Sara.

I'll be honest that this is not a book that I would typically read. Nadia is not a character that I would normally identify with but I liked the voice that she had. I enjoyed reading about her back story and what brought her to Iraq. I did not like reading about all of the political drama that surrounded the women held in the camps. I completely understand how awful it is and it is important to write about this so people understand what is really going on. I just personally had a hard time reading about it, especially when I know that there would be no real resolution. I thought the writing was good and there were some funny moments. It also had a better ending than I thought it would. I do think there are many people who would enjoy this book.

Thank you to Tiny Reparations Books and NetGalley for this ARC.