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A true tale of life in Australiaâ€™s Far Outback.
Born in the drifting sands on desert-edge, of drifting parents, his values founded on the rationale of drifting drovers, Broganâ€™s education is perforce a series of hard-knock experiences, lucky breaks and a witless ignorance of the wider world.
His stumbling adolescence is moulded by â€˜yellahairedâ€™ Kelly, witful Sister Angelus, verbose Old Herb, bellicose and brash Bert, poxed and grasping Elsie, venerable old Daâ€™oud and gullible Aunt Lill. When no longer Brogan the Boy but Brogan the Man, his purpose in life becomes a more purposeful yet no less spontaneous adventure.
"Bloody hell, itâ€™s you, eh?â€
The boy peered up into the tangle of sweaty armpit.
The score of conversations in the bar faltered, voices stuttering to an eerie silence to hang expectant in the still air. A score of eyes focused on the boy, his face the window of an innocent mind in conflict.
His eyes roved the bleary face.
"Cat got ya bloody tongue then, eh?â€
The face mouthed the words in a slur as the head jerked in a hiccup. The eyes rolled in stupor before a careful refocus on the boy.
The Arab waited, as expectant as the rest, for heâ€™d seen the boy arrive, watched him settle on the stoop to share it with a half dozen skeletal dogs waiting for a drover to flee the bar spewing remnants of a greasy breakfast and alcoholic dinner, repast for the mongrel herd, reward for patience.
From the stoop the boy fixed his gaze, as he had so often, at the man becoming more besotted by the minute. And the Arab noted, as he in turn had done so often, the anguish on the boyâ€™s face, conflict in the young mind between love and disgust for he who fathered him.
Daâ€™oud had long ago decided there was no more love in the boy for his father than in the father for his son. It seemed clear that the boy had yet to question instincts, had yet to begin evaluating whether or not his father deserved the endorsement of instinct, let alone adoration. But certainly there was no longer gloss in the boyâ€™s eyes when he looked on his father, merely question. Yet the father had never really seen the boy, the Arab reckoned. To him the lad had ever been but a nuisance, a creature simply there for ten years, tagging, running, straggling along on what had always been a catch-up chase of life, wondering who he was, how, why he was there.
The others in the bar also watched, yet maybe with not the yearning interest of old Daâ€™oudâ€™s eyes. Many times they had witnessed this scene; the present confrontation incited no more interest than to see if it would end as usual. Another standoff was expected, the father becoming more brazen, believing that to reject the recognition the boy sought would enhance his reputation as a manâ€™s man, rather than raise question in matesâ€™ eyes that he might be prey to sentiment.
And none admired the father for his victory when the boy capitulated rather than test the turbulent waters of contrition, nor did they of the boy for doing so. But it had always been good sport to ponder on.
One day, they reckoned, there would be a full-on confrontation, an end to the standoff, a winner and loser.
Old Daâ€™oud wanted to be there when that time came, in case he was needed.
Following a career in business management at international level, Kev attained a degree in journalism to then sweat as far up the River Nile as one can get, canoe down the Amazon, flash countless rolls of film from atop the Eiffel Tower, the heights above Yosemite, the Victoria Falls et al, scream "Oleâ€ at a Chihuahua bullfight, ride elephant trails in Thai jungles, wallow in the incredible history of Rapa Nuiâ€™s Maoi, and as convention almost demands, was mugged in Bogota. His articles on travel to exotic lands have featured in travel and airline magazines around the world.
Meanwhile, being a sixth generation descendant of Australiaâ€™s First Fleeters with an obsessive interest in Australiaâ€™s founding history, he was concerned over the generations of suppression in the education of Australians, on clouding the truth in what really happened. Years of fact-finding with the help of other dedicated researchers revealed all and Kev vowed to set the history books aright by bringing the brutal truths of convictism to light. He is well qualified to do so for as a student of First Fleet history he has presented his subject on many occasions in press, radio and television interviews. He is a Past President of â€˜The First Fleet Fellowshipâ€™ and a Past Secretary of â€˜The Descendants of Convicts Inc.â€™. During Australiaâ€™s 1988 Bicentenary he officiated in Founding celebrations in Sydney, Melbourne, Hobart and Norfolk Island and for his work during that Bicentenary, was created Honorary Life Member of â€˜The Regiment of Redcoat Descendantsâ€™.
Kev now devotes his life to writing on not only his countryâ€™s convict history, but general fiction with an Australian flavour. He recognises the growing trend towards digital reading so follows the worldâ€™s top authors in publishing his works both as traditional paperbacks and eBooks.
His Gurrewa and Brogan series released by Wings ePress are to be followed by Letitia Munro in December 2008, To Plough Van Diemenâ€™s Land in June 2009 and The Terrible Truths in December 2009, the last three being more works on his countryâ€™s convict beginnings. Short synopses of all can be read on www.kev-richardson.com. And more works are in the pipeline.
These days Kev travels less, having retired from his Gold Coast home, left his grown family and friends to write from experiences and adventures during his exciting travels, happily ensconced in the foothills of the Golden Triangle in amazing Thailandâ€™s exotic north.
I very much enjoyed Brogan--it makes me want to go explore the channel country and corner-country. What a fascinating part of Australian history! -- Karen Babcock, editor
FIVE-STAR AWARD! Although our hero, Adam Ashby is Kev Richardsonâ€™s fictionalized convict-birthed character born to an unwed couple, a â€˜boltedâ€™ convict and his â€˜colony wifeâ€™, this story nonetheless represents the real life history of New South Walesâ€™ struggles to become more than just an overflow prison for Englandâ€™s criminals. For those of you who miss the history in your Historical reads, youâ€™ll not be disappointed in this factional account of Australian history 1790â€“1820s. "I just love the way you throw a story together.â€ -- JoEllen, Conger Book Reviews, USA
Letitia Munro: Richardson shows very poignantly where the Australian â€˜free spiritâ€™ and attitudes to authority stem from. As a glimpse into the times of just over 200 years ago, it is a fine historical record. I enjoyed this work immensely; it should be compulsory reading for all, especially Australians. -- Lang Reid "Chiang Mai Mailâ€ and "Pattaya Mailâ€
Five Star Award! Letitia Munro, by Kev Richardson, himself a 6th generation descendant First Fleeter, continues his authentic historical account about the 162,000 convicts imprisoned on New South Wales. It was a land that not even the king himself knew had too little fresh water for drinking, or sufficient tillable soil to support the hoards of convicts he sent to populate the colony. -- JoEllen Congerâ€”Conger Books Reviews, USA
Letitia Munro: I just love the way you throw a story togetherâ€¦ -- JoEllen Congerâ€”Conger Books Reviews, USA
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 320
Paper Weight (lb): 13.6
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