Stone Sky Gold Mountain Mirandi Rewoe
https://readability.com.au/2021/03/05/book-review-stone-sky-gold-mountain-by-mirandi-riwoe

https://stella.org.au/2025/08/book-of-the-month-the-museum-of-modern-love-june-2025-2/
histories are Clare G. Coleman’s Terra Nullius (2017)
and Terry Pratchett’s The Last Continent (1998).
Both are atypical engagements with Australian
history that examine influences on Australian cultural
behaviour and evolution through re-imagined
interactions with the nation’s history, environment
and mythologies. Janice Liedl (2015) asserts that
when a history is presented speculatively, “the
differences it presents can be strong enough to
suggestively reshape the audience’s understanding
of the past” (p. 289). She suggests that the
very nature of science-fiction adds a “what if?”
component to storytelling that forces the reader
to rethink what is already known and to wonder
if, indeed, there are other ways to view the past.
Building on this assertion, it can be seen through
engagement with these texts that the alien setting of
speculative fiction makes it possible for the student
of history to engage with historical thought in a new
way, extramural to the usual and culturally defined
notions of that histor
Several Australian historical fiction novels are known to blur the lines between fact and fiction, often sparking debate among historians and readers. Some of the most notable examples include Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay, which is often mistaken for a true story, and Kate Grenville‘s The Secret River, which has been both praised for its historical detail and criticized for its fictionalized portrayal of colonial history.
Examples of Australian Historical Fiction Known to Mislead:
Why these novels mislead:
In conclusion, Australian historical fiction offers a rich and engaging way to explore the past, but it’s important for readers to be aware that these novels often blend fact and fiction, and may not always present a fully accurate or nuanced picture of history, according to book reviews.
Australian historical fiction, while often captivating, can sometimes present a misleading or inaccurate portrayal of the past. One prominent example is the case of Norma Khouri’s Forbidden Love, which was marketed as a non-fiction account of a murder in Jordan but later revealed to be largely fabricated. Another example involves Wanda Koolmatrie’s My Own Sweet Time, which was initially published as the work of an Indigenous author but was later discovered to be a hoax. These cases highlight how historical fiction, even when purporting to be factual, can be misused or misrepresent the truth.
Furthermore, even when not outright fabricated, historical fiction can still subtly mislead readers through its creative license. For example, Kate Grenville’s A Room Made of Leavesdelves into the life of Elizabeth Macarthur, but it is important to remember that the novel is a fictionalized interpretation of historical events, not a definitive biography. Similarly, Joan Lindsay‘s Picnic at Hanging Rock is a work of fiction, and while it captures the atmosphere of colonial Australia, its narrative of missing schoolgirls is not based on historical fact.
The key takeaway is that while historical fiction can offer engaging narratives and insights into the past, it is crucial to approach such works with a critical eye, recognizing that they are interpretations of history rather than objective accounts. It is also important to be aware of instances where historical fiction is deliberately presented as factual or exploits cultural narratives for commercial gain, as demonstrated by the cases of Khouri and Koolmatrie.
……
Let’s look at three recent Australian literary scandals. One is white male author Leon Cameron whose supposedly autobiographical novel, My own sweet time, was published in 1994 by indigenous publisher, Magabala Books. He presented himself as Wanda Koolmatrie, a Pitjantjatjara woman of the Stolen Generation, and he won the Dobbie Literary Award. The truth didn’t come out until he tried to sell his sequel and the publisher asked to meet him. And then all hell broke loose.
Another is Norma Khouri‘s Forbidden Love which was published by Random House in 2003 as a non-fiction account of the honour killing of her best friend in Jordan. It was a best-seller, but after being exposed by Sydney Morning Herald literary editor, Malcolm Knox, she admitted – eventually – that she had taken “literary licence”. For a work marketed as non-fiction, this was a bit of an understatement!
Then there’s Helen Demidenko, whom I mentioned in the opening paragraph. Her novel The hand that signed the paper won the Vogel award for unpublished manuscript in 1993 and then the prestigious Miles Franklin award in 1994. Helen Demidenko was a pseudonym for Helen Darville. On its own, that doesn’t seem like a huge crime, but the controversy came about because she presented her novel as being based on the experiences of her Ukrainian family. She said that the events that she wrote about in the book “actually happened”. Well, they may have, but not to her or her family. This book became the subject of a longstanding literary debate*.
https://alifeofprose.substack.com/p/australian-historical-fiction-breaking
The familiar ANZAC spirit is one that Australian’s hold near and dear—and rightly so, too. It’s a story which has dominated so many novels, but… we’ve failed to share the literary stage with stories addressing the denial of Indigenous treatment and the frontier wars.
Let’s explore how Australian historical fiction is breaking free from its colonial roots and embracing a more truthful, inclusive approach to our shared past,
https://kevinklehr.com/2023/01/08/book-review-johnno-david-malouf/
In Johnno, Malouf’s narrator Dante recounts meeting Johnno as schoolboys, seemingly from well-to-do, middle-class families. Dante describes Johnno as an outsider and prankster, intelligent and well-read in the classics. It was Johnno who gave Dante his lifelong nickname. As Johnno grew older, his wanderlust led him to Brisbane’s pubs and post-war brothels. Many of the places mentioned in the book—the street names and even a few pubs—are familiar to me. When I was an apprentice in the mid-1970s, near-retirement tradesmen often shared stories of the brothels and gambling dens that were once prolific in the city centre. The Brisbane of their youth for the most parts was isolated culturally and academically, it was very inwards looking and wary of those perceived as outsiders. For that generation, this lifestyle was as good as it got outside the dullness and sectarianism of those times. What sets this book apart is its bold depiction of a middle-class boy/young man stirring up trouble on Brisbane’s streets before deciding to get on a boat and head to Europe—a relatively novel concept in Brisbane literature at the time. Even into the mid-1970s, the idea of going ‘overseas’ carried an almost exotic allure.