The Second World War is a period of history so defined by its most prominent atrocities that countless experiences are rendered marginal, hidden corners of a conflict so colossal as to be nearly impossible to fully capture. Itself set beneath the atomic shadow of the Hiroshima bombing, Chloe Adams’ The Occupation thrusts the reader into one such corner of history – Australia’s postwar occupation of Japan – and delivers a compelling, deftly textured narrative of empathy and independence.

Fitting for a novel about aftermaths, our first introduction to Mary – Adams’ thoughtful, reserved protagonist – is as an unmarried and pregnant woman reluctantly ready to relinquish her child to a cousin. The past year, spent in Australian-occupied Japan, hangs silently over her with a gravity that can only be understood by following her into that world of uneasy peace where sunny picnics clash with ruined cities and two cultures struggle to coexist. It is a world made even more complicated for Mary by the charming Sully, a journalist determined to resist the racist narratives spread by the Australian occupiers and speak up for the ordinary people of Japan. As the two grow closer, their shy courtship turns to romance, and Mary’s moral convictions slowly begin to reshape themselves.

Partly drawn from Adams’ grandmother’s own experience of postwar Japan, The Occupation has, at times, a gentle pace and fluid structure which is testament to its commitment to a weighty and textural style that thoroughly immersed me in its historical setting. This weightiness also extends to Adams’ approach to the novel’s political preoccupations, whether they are the limitations faced by women in the 1940s or the difficult questions of retribution and complicity that defined postwar Japan. Adams leans into these complex realities with a gusto that makes The Occupation all the more admirable as a reflection on this neglected corner of our history.