Books like Remain — picked by fans

I began writing after reading multiple novels and watching the masters unfold stories page after page. With a background in homicide (working them, not committing them) and the move to forensics, a homeless man’s murder prompted me to write my first novel after I identified the deceased by skin removed from his thumb. I was hooked. Experience in the medical examiner’s office taught me how inciting incidents develop into an abundance of mystery, suspense, and thrills. It’s never as bad as it seems; it’s worse. The dead, unlike witnesses, tell the truth about what happened. More ingenious ways to die than ever imagined. This is why I write.

I began writing after reading multiple novels and watching the masters unfold stories page after page. With a background in homicide (working them, not committing them) and the move to forensics, a homeless man’s murder prompted me to write my first novel after I identified the deceased by skin removed from his thumb. I was hooked. Experience in the medical examiner’s office taught me how inciting incidents develop into an abundance of mystery, suspense, and thrills. It’s never as bad as it seems; it’s worse. The dead, unlike witnesses, tell the truth about what happened. More ingenious ways to die than ever imagined. This is why I write.

I began writing after reading multiple novels and watching the masters unfold stories page after page. With a background in homicide (working them, not committing them) and the move to forensics, a homeless man’s murder prompted me to write my first novel after I identified the deceased by skin removed from his thumb. I was hooked. Experience in the medical examiner’s office taught me how inciting incidents develop into an abundance of mystery, suspense, and thrills. It’s never as bad as it seems; it’s worse. The dead, unlike witnesses, tell the truth about what happened. More ingenious ways to die than ever imagined. This is why I write.

I began writing after reading multiple novels and watching the masters unfold stories page after page. With a background in homicide (working them, not committing them) and the move to forensics, a homeless man’s murder prompted me to write my first novel after I identified the deceased by skin removed from his thumb. I was hooked. Experience in the medical examiner’s office taught me how inciting incidents develop into an abundance of mystery, suspense, and thrills. It’s never as bad as it seems; it’s worse. The dead, unlike witnesses, tell the truth about what happened. More ingenious ways to die than ever imagined. This is why I write.

I never had a particular interest in birds until I heard about David Wingate and the cahow; I’m just a reporter who was smitten by a compelling story. I often write about science and the environment, as well as travel and other topics, for publications including the Boston Globe, Archaeology, and Harvard Medicine, and while working on Rare Birds I got hooked on these extraordinary creatures and the iconoclastic obsessives who have become their stewards in the Anthropocene era. You don’t have to care about birds to love their stories — but in the end, you will.

Not only am I the author of seven women’s fiction novels, I’m a voracious reader who believes she was raised by Judy Blume and Sidney Sheldon. In our broken home, reading was an escape, a salve for the wound, a place where I felt heard and understood. My novels touch on deep emotions—real and relatable. If I don’t capture that feeling when I’m reading through my drafts, I dig deeper. And that’s the thing about a great book, that gut punch, that slide under my skin, I get you. There’s no better read than the one that pulls the heartstrings and gives you all the feels.    

I’m a storyteller. I studied graphic design, animation, and film and became the title designer of Yorkshire Television’s game show 3*2*1 and directed an art-directed film and animation for British television and cinema. I was the Project Designer of the original Jorvik Viking Centre (1984). By 2008 I designed and built 25 award-winning cultural heritage centres and completed 150 international consultancies, producing and directing my exhibition documentaries. I learned how important writing was to my work. When it came down to it, whatever technique I used in the telling, there was always the story behind it as the way to transport the audience into a mentally immersive experience.

Between humor and pathos, I lean humor. Even the saddest, most shocking events—murder, for instance—can be wrapped in kookiness. Combine this outlook with my love of old things (I’m sitting on a 1920s Chinese wedding bed and drinking from an etched Victorian tumbler at this very moment), and you’ll understand why I’m drawn to vintage screwball detective fiction. Although my mystery novels are cozies, I can’t help but infuse them with some of this screwball wackiness. I want readers to laugh, of course, but also to use my stories as springboards to see the hilarity and wonder in their own lives. 

The two constants in my life to date have been ocean exploration by day and reading epic adventures by night. As a Ph.D. marine scientist, I’ve had the incredible good fortune to travel the world conducting marine science research, work which to date has resulted in forty-two research articles and a textbook. But as much as I’ve enjoyed conducting the research, communicating about the sea has been even more engaging, taking me to the White House, both houses of Congress, and many countries around the world. And perhaps best of all, I’ve been able to couple my love of stories with my own research experience to produce four adventure novels. 

Awe can make me feel simultaneously insignificant and fully, freshly alive. Witnessing a total solar eclipse or reading a story of remarkable human endurance, it’s easy to feel awestruck. It takes more patience and practice to experience awe in the subtle and ordinary, but it’s there too, in abundance, if I can see the mystery in the familiar. As a writer, longtime meditator, and lover of the natural world, I believe we can’t live meaningfully without wonder. We’re meant to be lit up, humbled, and curious about this life. To me, the world is magic, and we’ve been called on stage to participate in the trick.