Nation of Strangers: Rebuilding Home in the 21st Century

by Ece Temelkuran

SHORTLISTED FOR THE WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR NON-FICTION

‘Her most ambitious and dazzling book yet’ Brian Eno
‘Perhaps the most urgent and necessary book of our times’ Michael Morpurgo
'Ece Temelkuran is a brilliant thinker' Omar El Akkad

Dear stranger. Are you home? Do you feel at home? For how much longer?

Across the world the number of refugees and exiles, the dispossessed and displaced, the politically homeless and the economically excluded is growing. In the decade since she left her own home, Ece Temelkuran has been a political Cassandra, warning those convinced it couldn’t happen in their country that fascism is coming.

Now, as oppression spreads and temperatures rise – as we face competing crises and learn, again and again, that no institution is so concrete it can’t turn to dust, and no home is too strong to be destroyed – she has written Nation of Strangers: a series of letters from one stranger to another.

Politically attuned and deeply personal, this extraordinary, heartening correspondence is a gift to treasure in uncertain times. As poetic as it is precise, it is a book for anyone who feels alienated by an ever-more monstrous world. It shows how, as we all become strangers, our home will depend on the strength we find with one another.

Genres: Nonfiction, Politics, Essays

232 pages, Kindle Edition

Published February 12, 2026

About the author

Ece Temelkuran, Turkish author, was born in 1973. She is a daily columnist of one of the most popular Turkish newspapers for ten years and a prize winning journalist. Her primary concerns that she addresses are the contemporary criticism of popular culture, masques of politics, women issues, and all other deteriorating identities of humanity. She uses various forms of dramatic sentimentalism and black humor together, combined with her postmodern style, creating space for tactful connections to everyday life. She is the author of three experimental literary fiction books written in the form of poem in prose, and a documentary book on hunger strikes. Lately she published two collections of articles from her column. Temelkuran is the pioneering signature of her generation with opposing voice as a young intellectual, and always brave to tell about “never to talk subjects” of Turkey.

She graduated from Faculty of Law, Ankara University in 1995. She started her journalism studies at Cumhuriyet newspaper in 1993. She worked on women’s movement, Southeast Issue in Turkey and also political detainees. Her first book, “All Women Are Confused “ was published in 1993.She was chosen as the “Journalist of the year” by German government and then she made a research on Women movement in Germany in 1993, the same year when she was chosen as the Journalist of the year.

Her research book “My Son, My Daughter, My State-The Mothers Of Detainees- From Homes To Streets.” Was published in 1997. She was awarded by Office of Doctors since she had a research paper “Virginity Test is A Crime” for Cumhuriyet journal.

Her poem- prose books “From the Edge” and “Voice Of The Inside” were published by Everest. She went to Brazil in 2003 and to India in 2004 to observe World Social Forum. She examined the nation movement after the economic Crisis in Argentina. Her books that include newspaper articles Voice Of The Inside and From Outside were published by Everest in 2005. She took the Idea and Democracy Award by the Office of Doctors in Turkey with her book “We Are Having Revolution Here, Senorita!” (Everest, 2006). She was also awarded by Diyarbakır Democratic Platform with her book “What Should I Tell You?”. Ece Temelkuran, who deserved the award of Freedom for Idea by Ayşenur Zorakolu, keeps writing on her column “From The Edge” at Haberturk newspaper and her latest books “The Deep Mountain” (2008) and “Sounds of Bananas” (2010) are published by Everest.

Reviews

[Julie]

I learned about this book from an article in The Nerve. The following quote from Ece Temelkuran excited me, "She argues that far right political mechanisms work to cut ties between people and communities - and hollow out our faith in humanity. She says the answer is to nurture friendship and connection, and to think of home as other people."

[Zeina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nation of Strangers felt so uncannily relatable that reading it was like finding a long-lost cherished object. The book constructs a shared home for the unhomed - a growing group of people who now constitute, the author argues, a silent majority. There is something liberating in seeing their shared experiences and potential shared imaginaries articulated and placed into the world with such precision and care.

Temelkuran writes about language as both power and responsibility. She knows she is creating something that will live in the world and do things to how readers relate to it. In this book she releases, I think, two beasts.

One creates a conceptual home for the unhomed. It is beautiful, poetic, gentle, almost luminous. It draws on amor mundi, on the stubborn insistence on loving the world (and other people) even as it fractures. It dignifies the stranger. It honours shame without surrendering to it. It frames voice as collective survival not individual vanity.

The other beast is darker. It warns relentlessly, alarmingly, of fascism’s spread, of democratic fragility, of a future in which homelessness (political, moral, literal) becomes the norm. Whether its warnings are empirically warranted, it’s hard to be certain. But its plight is undoubtedly urgent, and a powerful call for solidarity.

Temelkuran has a joyous ability to craft brilliant new perspectives. When she writes, “English seemed to me like a linguistic river where all the unhomed of the world… gathered to drink,” she inverses the defeatist view of English as an oppressive language, replacing it with this beautiful and dignified image of a language that has become a gathering point for collective replenishment.

Her reflections on Enheduanna and Rutilius (the dilemma between self-pity and stoic silence) is one of the most arresting sections of the book. How does the unhomed speak without becoming theatrical? How does one preserve dignity without disappearing into silence? “This is a question of dignity,” she repeats. And it is.

Her line, “It is not the loss of home but the loss of faith in building a new one,” is probably the emotional pinnacle of the book. Exile is survivable, but loss of futurity is crushing.

By the end, the book leaves us with a paradox: we strangers have survived our own apocalypse. We know how to begin anew (something very Arendtian about this). But will we be able to make the world our home once more?

Tender and unsettling at the same time, this is the kind of book that will stay with anyone who has felt unhomed. Whether one finds its warnings necessary or overwhelming may depend on how much fragility one is already carrying. But it is, without doubt, a courageous act of language and a generous opening towards much needed intimate conversations.

[Carla · Rating 4 out of 5]

„Ich musste mein Land verlassen, um dem Faschismus zu entkommen, um schreiben, denken, einfach 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘯 zu können.“
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Ece Temelkuran muss aus Sicherheitsgründen die Türkei, ihr Heimatland, hinter sich lassen, um einer Verhaftung zu entgehen. Von nun an ist sie eine „Heimatlose“, eine Weltbürgerin, ein Teil der «Nation von Fremden», von Menschen, die im Exil leben, die geflüchtet sind.
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In ihrem sehr persönlichen Buch gibt sie Einblicke in ihren Kampf gegen das Alleinsein, das Heimweh und das Gefühl der Orientierungslosigkeit außerhalb ihres Heimatlandes. Wird es jemals wieder einen Ort für sie geben, an dem sie sich zu Hause fühlt? Wie soll das gehen, wenn man nur von einer Aufenthaltserlaubnis zur nächsten leben kann? Ihr Frust und auch ihr Stolz scheint an mehreren Stellen durch.
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Für mich war es keine einfache Lektüre. Das Buch richtet sich aber in erster Linie auch an andere „Fremde“, die die Autorin in ihren Briefen persönlich adressiert. Ece Temelkuran erzählt sehr schonungslos von den Folgen des Faschismus, will für dieses Thema sensibilisieren und fühlt sich, so wie die meisten von uns auch, oft machtlos in Anbetracht der politischen Krisen der Gegenwart (Beispiel: Tr*mp).
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Ich hatte mir das Buch etwas anders vorgestellt und deswegen ist es wahrscheinlich ein wenig hinter meinen Erwartungen zurückgeblieben. Ich hatte angenommen, dass es noch mehr um die Erfahrungen anderer „Fremder“ geht, wie eine Art Feldstudie.
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„Nation of Strangers“ ist ein sehr wichtiges Buch und ich würde jedem die Lektüre empfehlen, der sich für das Leid Geflüchteter und „entwurzelter“ Menschen interessiert.
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4/5 ⭐️
Toll übersetzt von Michaela Grabinger

Rezensionsexemplar I Vielen Dank @netgalleyde @rowohltverlag 💚

[Rita Egan · Rating 5 out of 5]

2026 Women's Prize for Non- fiction shortlist 2/6

A Turkish journalist, exiled because of her criticism of the regime in her homeland, writes of the confluence of facism and ecological disaster through the eyes of the stranger, the displaced, the homeless: who are you? why did you leave? how will you survive here? when will you go home?

Necessary reading for anyone who is succumbing to acceptance of the political landscape we now find ourselves in.

[Andrew Westle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this one. It sits with you. There’s something in it about never quite feeling at home, a quiet dislocation I recognise from living in the UK. That sense that we’re all just people trying to belong, trying to make somewhere feel like ours.

The provocations land. Especially around how distraction gets weaponised — the rhetoric pulling us apart, missing the deeper truth of what we actually share. Her critique of Keir Starmer is subtle but sharp, particularly the failure to offer any real opposition to Reform. That phrase “island of strangers” is turns it back on itself.

What’s most striking is what sits underneath it all: the refusal to let capitalism off the hook. She keeps pointing to the root, not just the symptoms. And when she asks us to call it what it is, FASCISM, it doesn’t feel exaggerate. One I’ll keep thinking about.

[Mr Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘Nation of Strangers is perhaps the most urgent and necessary book of our times, for our times. To read it is “to stiffen the sinews.”’
- Michael Morpugo


When Sir Keir Starmer used the term ‘island of strangers’ in 2025, he was rightfully criticised and castigated for the unhelpful ‘othering’ and distancing from other human beings in need of a home. Deep down, below the political shock headlines and nuance, perhaps he was more right than even he could have dreamed- that being a ‘Nation of Strangers’ and acknowledging our similarities and shared humanity may be the only way to rebuild the home, which all of us are in danger of losing.

Ece Temelkuran’s usage of ‘Nation of Strangers’ goes far in accepting that around the world today, people are not ‘exiles’, seeking some cloak of political ‘rightness’ and ‘justness’, but nor are they ‘migrants’ with all the attendant legal and political connotations. They are ‘displaced’ in the truest sense of the word- displaced not just geographically, but also temporally- they exist outside time metaphorically- waiting for residency status, waiting for visas, simply just waiting in a ‘permanent temporality’ as Temelkuran describes.

They are simply people seeking a home. We are simply people seeking a home.

Temelkuran suggests that there has been a withdrawing by some people, as a survival mechanism- one which protects and shields them from newly ‘elected’ fascist leaders; politicians who drive a wedge between ‘us’ and ‘them’ simply for election purposes and those who wish to hide from an increasingly uncaring world. ‘Or perhaps the radical immorality of a leader is suddenly normalised even by our friends. A tear opens deep down in our sense of belonging. The tear eventually articulated as an aching sentence: ‘I don’t recognise this place; this is not my country anymore.’ We miss our country while still living in it.’

Some of my American friends are embarrassed and shamed by the current leadership of their country and this shame shakes their sense of identity. Some of my British friends are also similarly embarrassed and shamed by the emboldened far right voices in this country who advocate sharply against migration and create dehumanised monsters of those seeking a home to turn welcome into fear. And they are emboldened by the sudden silence of the majority, who recognise that for the grace of God, anyone can be ‘homeless’, whether this is a loss of identity and value, or a loss of accommodation.

‘That is why many, too many of us, decide every day to turn ourselves into unfeeling creatures so that we can function as survival automatons. These times are orphaning all that is humane. An uncaring world is in the making, and it will unhome humans like you and me.’

A Nomad Century

Gaia Vince writes about the large numbers of migrants that the 21st century will be driven to, owing to the unchecked climate crisis in ‘A Noam Century’. As Temelkuran also notes, ‘Scientists report that by 2050, 1.5 billion people will have to leave their homes, and by 2070, 3 billion people will have become refugees.’ Unless we begin to open our hearts again into the understanding that we once had, of our shared humanity, we are in danger of losing all joy and happiness. ‘Some of us sit down and calculate when the rising sea or another wildfire will swallow up or land to make us homeless. We watch the water or the flames creeping further every year, centimetre by centimetre. The planet, that ticking bomb, becomes our suicide vest to wear.’

Temelkuran repeatedly urges throughout the book that this journey which we are on, is an inward journey, rather than an external journey to the many Ithacas of our identities and lives. From the very beginning, all the stories of the road have been told only by the travellers who made it back home…if we do not make it back home, our voice is stolen.’ Another journey lies ahead of us- a journey of rebuilding a community of strangers.
‘As much as it is about you and me, this is a journey towards the unhomed heart of humanity.’

She argues that, ‘Home, I believe, is the closet word to all of our hearts. And the idea of building a new home together, I hoped would recharge you- and me- with the joy of life.’

Temelkuran structures her writing both chronologically and focused on the somewhat charged questions of ‘Who are you? Why did you leave? How will you survive here? When will you go home?’. We are meant to recognise these questions- ones which give definite answers- are only supposed to be asked of those who are ‘other’ and challenge us to answer them ourselves. In our lives, we may be far from ‘home’, a place and a time of safety and innocence.
‘We are all losing home in some way or another. We are all becoming homeless. We are all being unhomed. Unhomed…’

Temelkuran inverts Sartre’s quotation, ‘Hell is other people’ in ‘No Exit’, where our self- image and worth is decided by the perceptions of others, turning us into objects, rather than the verbs that we are. Temelkuran emphatically and conclusively states, ‘We know that home is, in fact, other people.’

Home has always been an idea of creation, of ‘building a home, building a nest and then leaving the nest. We can belong again, we can belong together, we can make it back home and sing out our voices confidently into the joyous skies. We no longer need to fear that home might no longer recognise us.

Home is waiting for us.

[Dunja Brala · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sprache, Selbstverständlichkeiten, soziale Rollen - im Exil fehlt nicht nur Heimat, sondern das Gefüge, in dem Handeln Sinn hat. Man ist da, aber nicht mehr richtig verortet. Die meisten Menschen gehen unfreiwillig ins Exil, ihnen bleibt keine andere Wahl, da Leib und Leben und Freiheit bedroht werden. Genauso erging es Ece Temelkuran.

Die Journalistin, die sowohl für Print Medien als auch fürs türkische Fernsehen gearbeitet hat, sieht sich 2016 gezwungen, ihre Heimat zu verlassen. Die Gefahr nach dem Putsch verhaftet zu werden, ist real. Sie zieht nach Zagreb, weil sie glaubt, dass am Rande von Europas ihr Blick echter und unverstellter ist. Doch ein Fellowship verschlägt sie erst nach Hamburg und später nach Berlin.
Hier beginnt sie, ihre Situation in Worte zu fassen und gleichzeitig andere Menschen die auf der Suche nach einem neuen zu Hause sind, in den Fokus ihres Schreibens zu setzen. Dies tut sie, indem sie Szenerien unter ein Brennglas legt. Auf Ämtern, in Cafés, in den Innenstädten.

Sie beobachtet genau und obwohl sie der deutschen Sprache nicht mächtig ist, erlaubt sie sich Analysen unserer Entwicklung als Einwanderungsland die oft pieksen, weil sie recht hat und uns vorführt, wie wenig wir das Große Ganze oft mitdenken. Als sie zum Beispiel die Demonstrationen gegen den Faschismus im Winter 2024 beschreibt, stellt sie fest, dass die, die unter dem Faschismus am meisten leiden werden auf diesen kaum anzutreffen sind. Man hat sie nicht mitgedacht und aus seiner privilegierten Position heraus gehandelt. Ich geh da nicht immer mit und habe das auch sehr anders empfunden, kann aber ihre Position akzeptieren.

Am wichtigsten aber ist die Auseinandersetzung mit der Heimat. Mit Fragen wie „Warum bist du gegangen? Wie wirst du überleben? Wann wirst du zurückkehren?“ hangeln wir uns an ihrer Geschichte entlang. Die Gedanken dazu mäandern hin und her, werden von Historie und politischer Gegenwart durchzogen und wagen Vision, die nicht immer positiv stimmen.

Konsequent benennt sie Faschismus, schon zu einer Zeit, wo wir ihn vielleicht nicht sehen (wollten), wobei auch beim Letzten in unserem Land angekommen sein wird, dass er sich beginnt zu etablieren.

Stilistisch hat sie sich für die Briefform entschieden. Sie richtet das Wort an „Fremde“ womit mal wir gemeint sind, mal Gleichgesinnte.

Ein philosophischer Spaziergang auf der Suche nach Heimat, der unmöglich scheint, nicht immer zugänglich, aber offensichtlich klug und sehr persönlich konzipiert. Ein Buch, das Zeit und Muße braucht und uns vielleicht sogar abverlangt, uns noch viel kritischer zu betrachten. Wenn es einen zu diesen Themen zieht und man sich reinfallen lässt, dann ist es eine sehr große Bereicherung.

[Gemma W · Rating 5 out of 5]

“This is one of the tools of new fascism, to hypnotise you into a mental catatonia induced by fear of its daily bombardment of outlandish acts, you become so absorbed in their shocking actions resembling a grotesque spectacle that you forget what you can do. They create the illusion that they are the majority, so you gradually lose faith in your fellow humans, you become too possessed to even begin thinking how you can resist, so the trick is, don’t stare too long into an endless black hole, turn your face to the light as weak as the glimmer may be.”

This morning over my coffee, I watched a news story of an elderly couple at a park in Yorkshire, abuse a nurse of Filipina origin who had asked them to put their dog on a lead when it had run up to a small child. The unhinged abuse, and the hatred in their gritted teeth, was truly chilling, as were the comments, probably mostly from bots, justifying their actions. How have we got to this stage? What I should be focusing on, probably, is the fact that they have pleaded guilty in court and are awaiting sentencing. We should be turning these headlines around, “Don’t talk about them so much, let’s talk about us”.

I think reading this over the past few days, has been a hopeful experience. The author is reaching out to others out there who are untethered by current world events. “When our basic human values don’t match up to the blunt cruelty of the new world order, we become morally homeless.” Temelkuran calls on the silent majority to not lose hope and to not be drowned out. It’s broadly on the theme of Michelle Obama’s idea of When they go low, we go high , but she adds her experience as a political exile, and talks about the realities of losing your home, your base, the place where you should be accepted.

I listened to most of this as an audio, read by the author and her voice is truly charismatic. I felt I could feel her physically rolling her eyes at the tedium of having to describe anything to do with bureaucracy, and residence permits for instance. I almost felt like I was there in the queue with her, trying to reach out to people around. As someone who has moved around a fair amount, I very much enjoyed the way she talked about the impact of frequent moves “new cities are like frustrating toys, once I work out how they work, they will be taken away”.

A reminder for anyone feeling drowned out by the ‘no publicity is bad publicity’ campaign of the far right, for people for who strong and wrong, is not a better outcome. You are not alone.

[H.Tugca · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took Ece 3 years to write this book, and me a month to finish listening from her own voice, accompanied with kilos of sweet potatoes being peeled (that's how I cope with my strong emotions), multiple make-up redos (how I struggle with tears) and many hours of peaceful computer games (to ease down the realities of life). Since she stopped writing novels, I always wanted her to go back to literature in the sense of a more Ece kinda approach to life. This book, completely defeated all my arguments on this, and took its place at top 3 of my Ece shelf, if not my overall library.

I cannot summarize or explain the content any better than the title itself as a member of the nation of strangers for 20 years - nearly doubling Ece's misery (I am sure she will hate this word but well...) as well as starting to experience this way sooner than her at my mid 20s. Probably after having the published book in my hands, I will have many lines to share and add my uncalled commentary. But until then, all I can say is read with caution and enough time to contemplate about life, preferably not while driving if you happen to listen.

[Books By Your Bedside · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is such a timely book. This isn't a political review so I won't express my own personal opinions on the topics she mentions, but I do think it's a book that is so important for everyone to read. We see so many stories on the news about legal and illegal immigration but sadly they almost become a number and we forget they are real people. And in this book Ece has given us such an honest tale of her own plight and it makes you really connect with her story human-to-human. It's not the easiest book to read given t he topics but it's worth it. I would have liked it to be a bit longer because I enjoyed what was there so wanted more. Ece is Turkish and so I assume (but please contact me if I'm wrong) that English is not her first language, and yet her grasp of language in this book, she's used it to pull at the heartstrings, to anger you, and impart wisdom, is so good.

[Dr. · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Wenn es keinen anderen Ort mehr gibt, an dem man sich vor der Realität des Lebens verkriechen kann, wird Heimat aus Menschen bestehen, die einen halten, obwohl ihre Hände schon voll sind." S. 173

"Denn letztlich überleben wir nur, wenn wir denen, die wir in Zukunft sein werden, gemeinsam lächelnd entgegensehen." S. 209

Ich habe, glaube ich, zum ersten Mal verstanden "... dass die verlassene Heimat zwar unerreichbar ist, weil sie sich auch für die, die zurückkehren, zu sehr verändert hat, dass aber neue Heimaten mit ganz unerwarteten Augenblicken der Ruhe entstehen können." S. 216

[Rae]

Turkey. Exile. Fascism. The Odyssey. Connection. Epistolary.

Women’s Prize nominee, 2026.

Read UK Canongate hardback edition.

[Mark Cosgrave · Rating 5 out of 5]

for a good part of this book I didn't think it was relevant to me. then as the polarisation of the world came into play I realised it affects us all.