by Members of MWN Hub Book Club

The book, Take it Back by Kia Abdullah, created interesting round-the-table discussions for members of MWN Hub Book Club.  Opinions were mixed with some commenting on how the book challenged their unconscious biases, finding the story engaging. While for others the story line to an extent reinforces stereotypical tropes on Muslims. Even so, most agreed on how the novel does well in exploring the impact of unresolved trauma and duplicitous role of women making it a captivating read. Below are the views from some members of the book club. 

Rizwana writes: 

Kia Abdullah’s Take It Back is a powerful courtroom drama layered with themes of race, faith, misogyny, and disability. At its heart is Zara Kaleel - a sharp, unapologetic Muslim woman navigating life as both an advocate and an outsider. When she chooses to defend Jodie Wolfe, a disabled teenager accusing four popular Muslim boys of rape, she faces a fierce and deeply personal backlash from her own community. 

Abdullah’s writing is sharp and unflinching. She tackles uncomfortable truths head on - from policing of women’s choices to the way honour, shame, and silence are used as tools of control. Cultural nuance is woven masterfully throughout - from Urdu and Bangla phrases to the quiet tensions around modesty, piety, and expectation. 

Chapter 4 is especially powerful in its raw depiction of how men use religion to exert control over women - and how women, like Zara’s mother, internalise those norms and pass them on, often outsourcing her daughters' decisions in the name of faith and tradition. 

And Jodie - her disability - adds yet another devastating layer. She’s not just disbelieved; she’s dehumanised. Her voice is dismissed before she even has a chance to speak.  And through it all, Zara is forced to confront her own past, her family, and what justice really looks like when you’re stuck between two worlds. 

This deserves a TV adaptation - the story is too timely, too necessary, to stay on the page. 

Jawaher writes:  

This was a very powerful, albeit for me quite an unsettling and uncomfortable novel. It pushed comfort zones we may not be aware of, challenged prejudices and subconscious biases we apparently possessed through multi-layered storytelling entwined with nuanced themes. 

Personally, as someone with a legal background and working with domestic abuse survivors, the standout theme and character was Zara. Although, her trauma and yet to be healed wounds were prevalent and carefully detailed to place just the right amount of emphasis to let us know as the reader how they have seeped and entangled themselves into her daily life, but also left just enough leeway for us to imagine what has not been explicitly said. 

Seemingly, Zara is fighting a battle constantly in everything she does although she may not know it or care to admit it, but for me it was very apparent that the urge to constantly push back against those or that structural tangle of cultural norms and rules that had caused her so much pain, was entrenched in every action she took. So, for me, the need for us as humans, and maybe more so as Muslim women manoeuvring and balancing a content and pleasing life in a western, non-Muslim realm, to take charge and accountability to face our inner demons and heal those childhood wounds, which threaten to rear their ugly head later on, was very clear and even foreboding. 

Zara's professional mistakes both logistically and emotionally during her course as Jodie's support worker, for me were directly attached to her lapsed judgement to act with objectivity and logic stemming from her own biases towards Muslims because of her own trauma. It is very well known that healing is not linear therefore Jodie's healing and path to recovery from the egregious crime she was subjected to, may very well have been something different to what Zara felt Jodie needed to go through. However, unfortunately, as became increasingly obvious, Jodie’s needs were bulldozed over by Zara who was meant to be the adult in the situation, but her own inner wounds clouded her vision. 

So, for me the stand-out theme and character was Zara and her battle to feel fulfilled and prove to herself and her family that she is happy with the choices she made and to detach herself as far as possible from her past and abuse.  

Sham writes: 

From the very first page, I was hooked. The protagonist, Zara, is a Muslim woman who unapologetically defies cultural expectations—and I loved that. Her boldness and refusal to conform immediately resonated with me. 

I found myself relating to Zara on a personal level. Like her, I grew up questioning aspects of my culture, and navigating my identity was anything but easy. That internal tug-of-war is something many of us know all too well. 

As the story unfolds, Zara’s work advocating for justice for women who’ve experienced sexual violence really drew me in. Her passion is rooted in a deep sense of injustice, and it’s powerful. Then we meet four young boys—Muslim, South Asian, full of promise. And suddenly, my heart sank. In today’s climate, where Muslims are often portrayed negatively, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Do we really need another story that reinforces harmful stereotypes? 

Yes, it’s fiction—but when the author is South Asian and Muslim herself, isn’t there a responsibility to offer more balanced representation? I found myself wrestling with that question throughout the book. 

Then comes Jodie—a white, English girl with facial deformities. I struggled to connect with her. Her self-loathing felt repetitive and, at times, exhausting. I wanted to empathise, but it was hard. That said, when she disclosed the rape, I believed her. But then she lied. And that threw me into a constant back-and-forth: is she telling the truth or not? The author did a brilliant job of keeping me in suspense—right up until the very end, I genuinely didn’t know which way it would go (admittedly I was in the boys corner - which shocked me - I expected to route for Jodie).  

The boys and their families were portrayed with nuance, which I appreciated. Their parents were hardworking, dignified—representative of so many immigrant families. That part felt real and respectful. 

Kia’s depiction of Zara’s relationship with her own family was also insightful. You can be strong, independent, and successful in the outside world, but once you’re back in your parents’ home, you’re just a defiant daughter and sister struggling to be heard. The contrast between fighting for women’s rights publicly and being silenced privately is something many women still face today. 

And then—spoiler alert—just when I thought the narrative might redeem the boys, Kia drops a bombshell: they were guilty. I was stunned. 

As a story? Brilliant. The suspense, the twists, the courtroom drama—it’s gripping and cinematic. I could absolutely see this being adapted into a film. 

But in terms of challenging the negative portrayal of Muslims? I think it missed the mark. There was room for more balance, more hope.