Books like Hypatia (1853) by Charles Kingsley

I have always had a fascination with science. It came not from school or college, where lessons were sometimes dull, but from books about the discoveries and the people who made them. After careers as a soldier and as a government statistician I felt impelled to spread the word by writing, or at least try. After 40 rejections, my first book – about James Clerk Maxwell – was published and, to my joy, found many readers. My aim in writing is simply to share enjoyment with readers in an equal partnership. And I hope always to leave the reader feeling that he or she really knows the people I am writing about.

As a professor, I see students fascinated by science, but petrified to take a science class. This is in part because we have dehumanized science, removed the story, edited out the human, deleted the parts that allow people to connect with it. Science does not get delivered by gods, but is created by people: smart, quirky, sometimes immoral people. As a writer, my hope is to be able to reinsert life into readers’ understanding of our greatest advances. As a reader myself, I am deeply appreciative when other authors do it too.

Bertrand Russell wrote that: “Mathematics, rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme beauty – a beauty cold and austere, like that of sculpture, without appeal to any part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of painting or music, yet sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show.” I agree. Math is, however, a human thing, all tangled up with the nature of human personality and the history of our civilizations. Well-written biographies of great mathematicians put that “stern perfection” in a proper human context.

Bertrand Russell wrote that: “Mathematics, rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme beauty – a beauty cold and austere, like that of sculpture, without appeal to any part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of painting or music, yet sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show.” I agree. Math is, however, a human thing, all tangled up with the nature of human personality and the history of our civilizations. Well-written biographies of great mathematicians put that “stern perfection” in a proper human context.

I’ve always loved science—especially ecology and geology, because I grew up among the strange plants and rocky mountains of the Sonoran Desert. In college, however, I found my chosen field felt a little lonely. I didn’t know many stories about the women who had come before me. Now, I know history is full of women who ran rivers, climbed mountains, and made significant scientific contributions in their chosen fields. I find power in these stories, which I hope will make the world of science more welcoming to people of all backgrounds—and also reveal science as the great adventure I always felt it to be.  

I wrote Women in the Ancient Mediterranean World: From the Palaeolithic to the Byzantines when my partner and I found out that we were having a daughter. I finished it just as daughter number two appeared! I wanted to write something they could connect with easily as young women to share my lifelong passion for Mediterranean history. I grew up inspired by my local landscape of castles and ruins, trips to Greece, Michael Wood documentaries, and lots of books. I studied ancient history and archaeology at Newcastle University and later got my PhD from Durham University. I’ve written on various aspects of the ancient world in journals, magazines, websites, and my previous books.

I'm an American Christian author based in Austin, Texas. I’ve spent decades in contemplation and spiritual exercise seeking a deeper understanding of spiritual warfare in our “modern” world…inside institutions, families, and our hearts and minds—where pride, shame, and fear can function like prisons for the soul.

Writing Redemption Row and its companion field guide pushed me to look for books that don’t just talk about angels and demons in the abstract, but actually sharpen embodied discernment, stronger faith, and soul revival in people who feel trapped. I’m drawn to writers who take evil seriously without fear-mongering—and who insist that courage, divine love, and truth lead to God’s kingdom, power, and glory now and forever.

I was never an outdoorsy kid. But I was a church kid. As I grew up and moved into a calling to serve the church in ordained ministry, that calling took an unexpected turn when I visited West Virginian hollers poisoned by nearby mining operations and met the people living with the consequences. Subsequent trips to Hurricane Katrina-ravaged New Orleans, drought-wracked Kenyan hillsides, and to international climate negotiations in Paris all solidified for me the truth that loving my neighbor required loving God’s creation too. I’ve spent the last 10 years speaking, writing, and teaching Christians across the country the same simple truth.

The question I have for Christian authors is this: are we Christian authors or authors who are Christian? The realm of horror is the perfect genre to explore the human condition in all of its depravity. Why do Christians avoid this genre when at the end of the day? I grew up watching horror movies with my grandmother and I enjoy the thrills and chills, the questions the genre asks, and the various ways horror can be depicted. Christians understand the dark forces that underlie our natural world. And we understand the darkness within ourselves. But unlike Hollywood horror, we know what the solution – Christ. So that’s why this is a passion of mine.

When I started writing my novel A Better Heart, the focus was not on fathers and sons, but from the moment the narrator’s estranged father walked through the door, I knew their relationship would drive the story. As a reader, I enjoy following characters as they navigate the potholes of their lives, and family often present the biggest holes. Our primary relationships are with our parents, and their influence is a big part of who we become as adults. Exploring that bond often makes great fiction. My father died of cancer ten years ago. In writing about fathers and sons, perhaps I’m trying to imagine a different ending.