Babylon, Albion

Whoever said nature is still has not borne witness to the migration of the seasons.





In this lyrical enquiry, Dalia Al-Dujaili considers what it means to belong in your land. She traces the rich heritage of the earth beneath our feet and the wildlife that call it home – from the oak tree and date palm to fairytale creatures, such as dragons, unicorns and the ancient Lamassu. Weaving together Arab and Islamic mythology with the English and Christian pastoral, Al-Dujaili unmasks the communal lush, familiar and, at times, dark places we share.





A love song to Britain, Iraq and the body of earth we hold in common, Babylon, Albion is a compelling re-imagining of what it means to be native.



'An impassioned love letter … a lush, lyrical reminder that our cultural, ancestral and ecological roots are never static but are reaching and entwining across borders.'



'An essayistic meditation on what it means to be native to a land ... undergirded by rigorous research, personal wisdom and descriptive prose.' ????



'Through her lyrical prose, Dalia creates a work that feels both personal and universal, while raising important questions … striking.'



'a genre-defying debut that blends memoir, mythology, ecological essay, cultural history, and folktale. It is a love letter to land, ancestry, and the in-between places where language, memory, and myth intersect ... a text that feels radical in its gentleness.'



'A fascinating mash-up of pastoral and personal history with an interrogation of empire and nationalism, that manages to convey wonder and hope even as it sketches out man's brutality to man and to the natural world.'



'You'll emerge from Al-Dujaili's book with a renewed sense of connectedness to the natural world and wherever it is you call home.'



'Stunning ... the writing [is] exquisite.'



'In Babylon, Albion, Al-Dujaili intertwines her intimate experiences with grounded research, thoughtful reflection, and myths written with astute care and fluidity. While crafting atmospheric scenes of eating Iraqi masgouf in Amman with her family, she finds a way to keep Iraq alive inside of her and consistently reiterates that the personal is political.'