All the Green Year by Don Charlwood
The year I remember best from those days is 1929. This was the year I turned fourteen and went into the eighth grade; the year too that Grandfather McDonald became peculiar and we moved to live with him in his house on the cliffs.

Red Horse by M.J. Logue
It was a raw night and there was a stiff wind coming up off the sea, bringing a driving rain and a tavern full of sea-captains and merchants with their pockets full.

Mission: Essays, Speeches & Ideas by Noel Pearson
I blame my father. Or at least I try to.