Stefanie Koens grew up in a large family in which books and story-telling were treasured. When her novel Daughters of Batavia was awarded the Banjo Prize in 2023, it was the fulfilment of a dream that began at the age of 12 when one of her short stories won a local writing competition. Although she never lost her love for writing, Stefanie has worked as a teacher, tutor and office administrator. Stefanie also loves history and is particularly fascinated by family stories, secrets and experiences that interweave past and present. When she’s not writing, Stefanie loves spending time in the countryside and coast around her home in Perth, Western Australia, especially when this involves faith, family and friends. More often than not, Stefanie can be found absorbed in other writer’s stories.
FF: Daughters of the Wreckage brings together multiple women whose lives are forever altered by a single tragedy. What inspired you to tell a story through this kind of shared impact?
This has a lot to do with one of my favorite quotes, from Pericles: “What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” I believe that events in our lives never happen without reason – even the tragedies – and they can echo through generations. Saskia, a young Dutchwoman in the 17th century, could never have imagined the impact her life would have on Tess, nearly four centuries later in modern-day Australia. The interweaving of past and present is why I love reading and writing dual timeline stories.
FF: The novel centers on a devastating shipwreck. Why were you interested in exploring not just the event itself, but what came after?
I’ve come to realize that life-changing events aren’t just fascinating in themselves, but what comes before and after also tells the story. The wrecking of Batavia was shocking, but the voyage itself was marked by tension and unease, and the aftermath of the wreck was arguably even more terrifying. I think an event like the Batavia saga forces us to question: How could people have done such things? And then, more provokingly: What would I have done?
FF: Each of the women carries her own grief, secrets, and unanswered questions. How did you approach crafting such distinct emotional journeys within one interconnected story?
Tess’s story came to me first, partly based on things I was experiencing in my own life, and as Saskia’s backstory began to take shape, I was often surprised how aspects of her life linked to Tess’s. (I think there’s a message there that people haven’t really changed that much!) Tess’s journey is more emotional and psychological, and I had to be careful that Saskia’s momentous shipboard journey didn’t overshadow Tess’s story.
The idea to write Aris’s narrative came later, and this ended up being a great connector between the two women’s narratives – and the one I probably enjoyed writing most.
FF: What is it about the setting of Daughters of the Wreckage that drew you in as a storyteller?
This could partly be answered in another of my favorite quotes, by John Ruskin, where he mentions feeling a “deep sense of voicefulness” in places “that have long been washed by the passing waves of humanity.” I love writing about 17th century Batavia survivors and modern-day characters walking the same islands and beaches, and gIslands are wild and beautiful, and they almost act like a character that draws all the others into their world, four centuries apart.
FF: In many ways, this is a story about identity being reshaped in the aftermath of loss. How do your characters begin to redefine who they are after everything changes?
Tess is trying to redefine herself after the loss of her father and having left her career. Travelling to the Abrolhos to literally dig into the past is one way she’s trying to find answers for her present and her future. Saskia has less independence and fewer options, and her opportunity to redefine her life comes in the form of a literal shipwreck. Both women have to find, or cling to, a level of acceptance and faith in their life-changing redefining process.
FF: Relationships—between friends, mothers and daughters, neighbors—are tested in profound ways. What did you find most compelling about those fractures and attempts at repair?
For me, it’s so powerful that relationships, whether these are between siblings, parents, or children, are no different in the 17th century than the present day. What is perhaps most compelling is that sometimes relationship fractures don’t heal and sometimes we don’t get to see them repaired in this life. I think of Saskia and her birth mother – it is only modern-day readers who get a glimpse of closure in that relationship.
FF: There’s a sense throughout the novel that truth is both revealing and disruptive. How do you balance honesty with the emotional cost it often carries?
Truth can be disruptive even when we don’t get all our questions answered and sometimes the truth we’re looking for doesn’t materialize. In this novel, both Tess and Saskia have to accept that. Without giving too much away, I also think of the ending, and the way that one truth was allowed to be literally buried for nearly four centuries. I think God is like that: knowing what answers we need and what truths we need to know or not – and when.
FF: What do you hope readers take away about resilience, connection, and the ways people rebuild after life is “wrecked”?
I hope readers take away the message found in the poem at the beginning. It’s the idea that throughout our whole life – but especially during and after times of hardship and distress – God puts us in places and with people he has planned for us the whole time, even when we can’t see that or think we’re in control. God is with us in life’s storms and also when it’s time to repair, providing resilience and connections needed to rebuild after the wreckage.
