57 Books Like Refuge Bay

I’m a retired IT manager and tech writer, a guy who studied political science and economics and ended up writing computer programs for a living. I’ve never lived fully inside my own lane, so to speak, so genre-crossing stories appeal to the nonconformist in me. Along these lines, my book crosses genre boundaries, a legal thriller without lawyers or judges, told from the perspective of a guilty everyman instead of the innocent, wrongly-accused defendant. Having served on a few juries, I’m fascinated by the role of the common person in this pivotal process that underpins democracy.

I’m a retired IT manager and tech writer, a guy who studied political science and economics and ended up writing computer programs for a living. I’ve never lived fully inside my own lane, so to speak, so genre-crossing stories appeal to the nonconformist in me. Along these lines, my book crosses genre boundaries, a legal thriller without lawyers or judges, told from the perspective of a guilty everyman instead of the innocent, wrongly-accused defendant. Having served on a few juries, I’m fascinated by the role of the common person in this pivotal process that underpins democracy.

I’m a retired IT manager and tech writer, a guy who studied political science and economics and ended up writing computer programs for a living. I’ve never lived fully inside my own lane, so to speak, so genre-crossing stories appeal to the nonconformist in me. Along these lines, my book crosses genre boundaries, a legal thriller without lawyers or judges, told from the perspective of a guilty everyman instead of the innocent, wrongly-accused defendant. Having served on a few juries, I’m fascinated by the role of the common person in this pivotal process that underpins democracy.

I’m a retired IT manager and tech writer, a guy who studied political science and economics and ended up writing computer programs for a living. I’ve never lived fully inside my own lane, so to speak, so genre-crossing stories appeal to the nonconformist in me. Along these lines, my book crosses genre boundaries, a legal thriller without lawyers or judges, told from the perspective of a guilty everyman instead of the innocent, wrongly-accused defendant. Having served on a few juries, I’m fascinated by the role of the common person in this pivotal process that underpins democracy.

I was born in a Jamaican far-district just before independence. That historical fact is only one aspect of my in-between childhood. My daily imaginative fare was European fairy tales; my mother’s stories of growing up; and folktales, rife with plantation monsters, that my grand-uncle told. There was no distance between life and those tales: our life was mythic. The district people were poor. So they understood inexactitudes profoundly enough to put two and two together and make five. They worshipped integrity, and church was central. Inevitably, genre-crossing, “impossible” realities, and the many ways love interrupts history, were set in my imagination by the time I was seven and knew I would write.

Elizabeth Flann is a history and literature major who worked for over twenty years in the publishing industry in England and Australia before moving into teaching literature, scriptwriting and editing to postgraduate students at Deakin University, Melbourne. She is a co-author of The Australian Editing Handbook and was awarded a PhD in 2001 for her thesis entitled Celluloid Dreaming: Cultural Myths and Landscape in Australian Film. Now retired, she is able to give full rein to her true love—writing fiction. Her first novel, Beware of Dogs, was awarded the Harper Collins Banjo Prize for a Fiction Manuscript. She now lives in a peaceful rural setting in Victoria, Australia, close to extended family and nature.

I am a novelist and journalist who has been writing about war and refugees for nearly two decades. In 2018, I went to the Greek island of Samos, which held one of the most inhumane refugee camps in Europe, to talk to people there about their lives and hopes. Out of this, I wrote several articles and later two books, including The Good Deed. My hope is to counteract the demonization of refugees, so rife in the world today, by bringing out all that we humans have in common, such as our need for shelter, food, family, safety, and love. 

I have loved history since I was a child, and very early on, I realized that history was not something that was made only by famous people. My own relatives had migrated, worked at different jobs, served in wars, etc., and ordinary people like them have been the most important drivers of events. I had a chance to study in Mexico in my early twenties and rapidly fell in love with its people and history. Yet, ever since I was a child, I have been interested in the history of wars. My work on the Mexican-American War combines all of these passions. 

In the acknowledgments in my novel I mention my late mother “who might have wanted to flee, but didn’t.” My pregnant mother driving eight hours down the Fraser Canyon. Baby me “in a cardboard box” in the front seat, my brothers, armed with pop guns, in the back. My dad, having finally found work, gone ahead alone. We didn’t tell this as a story of her courage and strength. It was considered funny. But after I became a mother, I had a clearer vision of the stress and poverty of my mother’s life. My novel, and the ones I’m recommending, show compassion for women as mothers, and for their children, who are sometimes left behind.

My passion for mining history was sparked when I lived in Fort Resolution, Northwest Territories. One of my students wanted to write a short essay on the Pine Point Mine, which he claimed had cheated the community by making so much money, providing few jobs, and leaving a big mess after closing. I offered to drive the student out to tour the abandoned mine and was blown away by the dozens of open pits and abandoned haul roads that had been carved out of the northern forest. From that day on, I was hooked on mining history, hungry to learn as much as possible about these abandoned places.