Onjali Q. Raúf’s The Star Outside My Window (Delacorte, Jan. 19) is a powerful tale following two siblings—10-year-old Aniyah and 5-year-old Noah—as they arrive at their new foster home near Oxford, England. It soon becomes clear to the reader that the kids are survivors of domestic abuse and that Aniyah is deeply traumatized by something she witnessed: She has lost her voice, doesn’t remember the events that led them here, and believes her missing mother, Isabella, is now a star. After hearing on the news that astronomers have spotted a new star passing close to Earth, Aniyah is sure it is their mother and that they must go to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich to properly name it. What follows is Raúf’s compassionate, hopeful exploration of the toll that domestic violence takes on children, blended with elements of adventure and astronomy. The author, who lives in London, answered questions by email about the book and about Making Herstory, the organization she founded to fight abuse and trafficking of women. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

What’s striking about the book is how “voice” is essential to the storytelling: Aniyah loses her voice due to trauma, but her internal narrative voice is unreliable because her memory of events has been affected. Similarly, her mother used her own voice the only way she could: to protect her kids from the truth of the domestic abuse they endured.

I love that you picked up on the incomplete, slightly skewered, and in many ways silenced truths of a mother and daughter who are both bearing the brunt of the unbearable. With most survivors of abuse—no matter what form that abuse might have taken—storytelling, reinvention, or an outright blocking out of trauma often become a medium through which to cope and survive. There has to be something to numb the pain that otherwise would be too much to endure. For Aniyah, it’s her body literally wiping out her voice and blurring the truth. For her mum, it was reinterpreting what was really happening into something else completely so that her children could survive it all alongside her.

Despite its difficult subject, the novel also has fun, adventurous moments. Was it hard to find a balance?

Absolutely! This book felt horribly difficult to write, and I had so many false starts with it because I just couldn’t find that balance. At one point, I seriously thought about emailing my agent to tell her it was game over and that I couldn’t do it. But then a breakthrough stepped up in the most unexpected form: through my brother! He was seeing me spiral and asked me to explain to him what the story was about. I told him that all I knew was it featured a little girl, obsessed with the stars, who believes her mum has become one. It wasn’t until he uttered the magical words, “Oh, you mean kind of like Simba in The Lion King?” that everything clicked into place. The “fun” element was vital, otherwise the story would be too heavy and unbearable to read.

I understand that some of the inspiration for the novel comes from a deeply personal experience.

I wish it wasn’t the case every single day, but yes, that’s true. The book is dedicated to my beloved aunt, Mumtahina ‘Ruma’ Jannat, and my two beautiful nieces who have had to live through and survive their mother being stolen from them by a man who couldn’t bear not to have control over them all. Exactly like Aniyah and Noah. My aunt fought tooth and nail for her life and for her daughters to stay safe, and we were with her every step of that fight. But in the end, the judges, the social care workers, and all involved believed him and chose to disbelieve her and discredit her experiences. Despite my aunt’s warnings—on record—that he had told her he was going to kill her and that no one could stop him, her abuser was still granted access to her two beautiful children—through which, of course, he was able to gain more access to her and do just what he said he would. I will never forget the day I received that call. And then suddenly having my nieces be taken away and immersed in a system none of us knew anything about as a court case ensued and our lives were put in danger, too. That pain and the dealing with it will last a lifetime, and this story, thanks to my editor suggesting I write it, has in some ways helped me confront it. I just wanted more eyes to note how children remain largely forgotten when it comes to speaking about domestic violence. And how desperately that needs to change.

In addition to being a writer, you are also the founder of an important and inspiring organization called Making Herstory.

I set up Making Herstory unofficially as a book club just a few months after my aunt’s murder. I thought if I could set up a feminist book club, raise awareness about the injustices women have endured for time immemorial, and donate any money raised to a local women’s refuge, then maybe it would help me get to grips with what had happened and renew hope somehow.

But what was a book club became a jumping-off point. The women’s refuge we were donating to began asking for basics like bedsheets and toothbrushes and toiletry kits and lamps. I started hosting fun, larger events, like an Alice in Wonderland tea party, and the odd quiz night, and a Harry Potter dinner, to raise more money for more refuges. Meanwhile, because I had written about my aunt’s case in theGuardian, I was asked to speak about her case and what needed changing to local authorities and colleges and then about Making Herstory in schools more and more.

Now we deliver pre-packed suitcases twice a year to a network of shelters; have an emergency survivors’ fund to pay for hotel rooms [when] beds aren’t available in shelters or to purchase things that the shelters can’t afford; lobby the government in support of campaigns and crucial cases brought forward by the Centre for Women’s Justice, the NIA, Woman’s Place U.K., and others.

It’s been an incredible journey—and at moments, one that feels too tough to go on with. But now that The Star Outside My Window is a part of it (a portion of all royalties goes back into its works), I seem to have come full circle in a way. MH started with sharing books and stories in hopes that by doing so, we could help some of the bravest women in the world, and their children, escape violence and find sanctuary. That aim, by some wondrous twist of fate, now comes with its very own book cover and a story to hopefully help our children do just that.

Ana Grilo is co-editor of the Hugo Award–winning blog The Book Smugglers and co-host of the Fangirl Happy Hour podcast.