Books like The Lost Estate (Le Grand Meaulnes)

I write speculative fiction books that feature hidden or secret locations. I enjoy writing about closed communities where different rules apply, and they are less susceptible to outside intervention. Places where those in power can ‘get away with things’. I base the topography on real locations and adapt them for my purposes. I can visualise the locations, which are an amalgam of the real and the imaginary. For consistency, I draw maps incorporating real physical landmarks.

When in unfamiliar settings, people often feel isolated. This makes it easier to portray them as exposed or insecure, creating an atmosphere of fear or suspicion and opening up plot possibilities.

I write speculative fiction books that feature hidden or secret locations. I enjoy writing about closed communities where different rules apply, and they are less susceptible to outside intervention. Places where those in power can ‘get away with things’. I base the topography on real locations and adapt them for my purposes. I can visualise the locations, which are an amalgam of the real and the imaginary. For consistency, I draw maps incorporating real physical landmarks.

When in unfamiliar settings, people often feel isolated. This makes it easier to portray them as exposed or insecure, creating an atmosphere of fear or suspicion and opening up plot possibilities.

I write speculative fiction books that feature hidden or secret locations. I enjoy writing about closed communities where different rules apply, and they are less susceptible to outside intervention. Places where those in power can ‘get away with things’. I base the topography on real locations and adapt them for my purposes. I can visualise the locations, which are an amalgam of the real and the imaginary. For consistency, I draw maps incorporating real physical landmarks.

When in unfamiliar settings, people often feel isolated. This makes it easier to portray them as exposed or insecure, creating an atmosphere of fear or suspicion and opening up plot possibilities.

I write speculative fiction books that feature hidden or secret locations. I enjoy writing about closed communities where different rules apply, and they are less susceptible to outside intervention. Places where those in power can ‘get away with things’. I base the topography on real locations and adapt them for my purposes. I can visualise the locations, which are an amalgam of the real and the imaginary. For consistency, I draw maps incorporating real physical landmarks.

When in unfamiliar settings, people often feel isolated. This makes it easier to portray them as exposed or insecure, creating an atmosphere of fear or suspicion and opening up plot possibilities.

I am less interested in what happens than in how and why—to me, that’s where the real suspense is. As a writer, I’m always bickering with traditional plot structures, which I love for their comfort and familiarity and then turn against when a story becomes too obedient to them. As a reader…well, sometimes I flip to the end to see where we’re going so I can slow down and enjoy the journey more. Anytime we think we know what’s going to happen is an opportunity for suspense, and challenges and rebellions to those familiar story arcs can be twists in their own right. 

I’m a writer and also a history nerd. I love historical fiction—learning about the past through a story just makes the world come alive in a way that non-fiction doesn’t. As I child, I was entranced by middle-grade historical novels like The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle and The Shakespeare Stealer. But I also love fantasy novels and how they use magic to make the truths of our world bigger and bolder, turning the elephant in the room into a dragon that can’t be ignored. Mixing history and fantasy together is my book version of peanut butter and chocolate.

As a teenager, I began to question the myths my parents told about our family, but when saying so caused trouble, I confided my stories to paper instead. That’s how I became a writer. My first love has always been fiction, but I broke into print writing history—about quirky subjects in which I find deep meaning, like the potato’s revolutionary influence on the Western world, or how the invasion and occupation of Belgium in 1914 foretold Nazi Europe. My fascination with subversion shapes my novels too—my quiet, lonely protagonists would never storm the barricades yet appear radical because of how they live, a circumstance I know well.

I think all horror authors have at least one coming-of-age novel inside them. I suppose I have some expertise on the topic because I recently finished my first coming-of-age novel, The Dancing Plague. I’ve written stories from the perspectives of children before. One of the challenges I found is getting the voice right. Kids think and talk differently than adults, so it can be a bit tricky finding the right balance between credibility and readability. Nobody wants to read an adult novel that sounds as though it was written by a kid. Conversely, nobody wants to read a novel that’s narrated by a twelve-year-old that sounds as though it was written by an adult.

During a lonely stretch of primary school, I recall discussing my predicament with my mother. “You only need one friend,” she said by way of encouragement. Some part of me agreed. I’ve been fortunate to have had (and to have) several friends in my life, never more than a few at a time, more men than women, and each has prompted me to be and become more vital and spacious than I was prior to knowing them. The books I’m recommending—and the one I wrote—feature these types of catalyzing, life-changing relationships. Each involves some kind of adventure. Each evokes male friendship that is gravitational, not merely influential, but life-defining.

As a 34-year-old memoirist, one of the most frequent questions I get about my genre, delivered with both curiosity and disdain, is: “Why?” After all, why? What could I, the life experience and literary equivalent of a pollywog, have to share about my journey—or, gasp, what I’ve LEARNED? The fun thing is, as someone who once broke my parents’ computer by using dial-up internet to download Napster, I’m used to disappointing people. Even more fun: as a millennial memoirist, I don’t believe in writing books that will tell people what I’ve learned. I hope my writing shows, through both merit and content, that I have indeed learned something.