
The new novel from the award-winning author of The Scope of Permissibility examines assumptions about class, connection and culpability.
A common question on forums like Reddit goes something like this: What moment in your life was so pivotal that everything since has been divided into ‘before’ and ‘after’? For some it’s the death of a parent, or the onset of illness; for others, the birth of a child. For the protagonist of Zeynab Gamieldien’s second novel, Zaid Saban, a successful lawyer and now trainee barrister at the elite firm Oakford Grey, that moment came when his childhood friend, Hassan Abdallah, was found dead by his own hand in a Sydney gaol cell after being accused of murder. So defining was that day, Zaid’s story is told through chapters titled simply then and now.
The novel begins when Zaid, now in his thirties and having long escaped his disadvantaged upbringing in a neighbourhood known only as ‘The Area’, looks up from his office desk to find Amira, Hass’s sister, standing before him. Amira has found her brother’s diary and it is filled with entries she needs Zaid’s help to decipher. At first Zaid is reluctant to return to a past he’d rather forget, but eventually he agrees. And what he uncovers through their meetings is not just that things may not have been quite what they seemed at the time, but that the few cryptic notes Hass left behind may even implicate Zaid himself in the tragedy for which Hass took the blame.
Learned Behaviour explores a series of themes deeply relevant to contemporary Australia, drawing on events from the past two decades. Despite living in the so-called information age, it still takes remarkably little – and sometimes almost nothing in the way of established fact – to condemn someone forever. Everyone in Zaid’s circle seems certain of Hass’s guilt, including Zaid’s own father, who escaped apartheid South Africa and should have had some understanding of how easily an innocent person can be slandered. Yet he does not hesitate in his condemnation:
Good riddance to him, good so. He should’ve hung for what he did to you and that poor girl. Never understood why this country bothers to lock these people up for so many years. Hang the lot of them, I say.
Yet Zaid himself knows the case was entirely circumstantial and had never been tested in court. Hass stood accused, but not convicted. He had known the victim, knew the area where her body was found, and had been around her that day. But the forensic evidence was weak, limited by environmental factors, and unlike his brothers, both convicted criminals, Hass had no record of his own. It was even possible he could have been exonerated had the case ever gone to trial. Yet he is already guilty in the court of public opinion and even Zaid, for all his legal training, occasionally refers him in his thoughts as a ‘murderer’, omitting the crucial qualifier ‘alleged’.
Connection is another thread woven through this narrative tapestry. Outwardly, Zaid is a successful young professional. He can fit in with people from different walks of life, manage social gatherings with peers, and keep a conversation afloat. But beneath the surface, it all feels hollow. To Zaid, it’s a performance, a carefully practised art of noncommittal engagement, preparing phrases in advance that, as he describes it, make him ‘appear active and passive’ all at once. The calls may keep connecting, but nothing real is being exchanged.
And then there is the thread of privilege. Although Zaid grew up in an immigrant family living in the disadvantage of The Area, his parents still see themselves as fortunate. Zaid is a native English speaker, his potential has been recognised and encouraged by his family and his school, and this has helped him take advantage of what opportunities he has been offered. This is in contrast to some of his peers, most notably Hass. Now Zaid has colleagues at Oakford Grey with far more elevated backgrounds, yet they stand on the same rung he does and seem careful not to let their privilege work against him. Indeed, Emily, the white North Shore daughter of a retired judge, couldn’t be nicer to him and seems at pains to acknowledge her advantages as she tries to help him bridge the gap between them. But is her behaviour sincere, or only learned, as the title suggests?
Learned Behaviours raises many questions that it doesn’t seek to answer, including the final resolution of the murder. But that is rather the point. In 2026 we are constantly subject to narratives that seek to reduce the ever-increasing complexity of our world into soundbites, binary divisions of right and wrong, when the reality is almost always multiple shades of grey. This is a novel that urges us to resist the pull to the extremes, to examine not just our privilege but our assumptions, and accept that life rarely conforms to neat, satisfying conclusions.
Because, in the end, even learned behaviours can be overcome.
Zeynab Gamieldien Learned Behaviours Ultimo Press 2025 PB 320pp $34.99
Sally Nimon once graduated from university with an Honours degree majoring in English literature and has hung around higher education ever since. She is also an avid reader and keen devourer of stories, whatever the genre.
You can buy Learned Behaviours from Abbey’s at a 10% discount by quoting the promotion code NEWTOWNREVIEW.
You can also check if it is available from Newtown Library.
Discover more from Newtown Review of Books
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.







