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Fiction Literary


by (author) James Case

Nevermore Press, Ltd.
Initial publish date
Oct 2020
Literary, Historical
  • Paperback / softback

    Publish Date
    Oct 2020
    List Price

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When Ananias Case boards a ship in Fowey, England in 1826 bound for Carbonear, Newfoundland, he’s not looking for adventure; he’s a man on the run. The strictures of class division are left in the wake, while a fractured society in the throes of rapid evolution awaits beyond the sea. An historical novel based on real events, Ananias is the story of a man seeking a new life while struggling with the ghosts of his past. This sweeping adventure of discovery, connection and heartache is also a moving tribute to a rugged island place and its people.

About the author

Contributor Notes

Born and raised in downtown St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, James Case practiced architecture for forty years. After working professionally throughout Atlantic Canada and for extended periods in Australia, Quebec, Korea and Norway, he formed Sheppard Case Architects in 2000 and LAT49 Architecture Inc. in 2014. James’ projects have been featured in Canadian Architect and Domus, with notable recent works that include the award-winning Fortis Place in St. John’s and the internationally acclaimed Fogo Island Inn at Joe Batts Arm. James sold his architectural practice and retired in 2018. He has since returned to his first love — writing.

Excerpt: Ananias (by (author) James Case)

“That there is Cape St. Francis.” Captain Collin pointed to starboard. Then he called to the wheel. “Bring her head into the west-sou’west.” “Aye, aye, Captain,” the mate returned.

“Not like the cliffs of Dorset and Cornwall,” I observed. “They are so black and so severe. As if they dared ships to come near to them. Is the whole island like this Captain? I mean, it looks like there couldn’t possibly be anywhere to put a ship in.”

“It’s not all like that son,” replied Collin. “Among those jagged cliffs there are hundreds of hidden jewels. Little coves where a man can hide away. Many’s done as much, Englishmen and Irishmen — surviving year to year on the sea, and on sack vessels like this one to bring them flour, molasses, clothing and fishing gear. Some ships this time of year will have butter and salt beef — pork if they’re in Dublin last going off.”

“Well I won’t be hiding,” I said with a forced smile, hoping to suggest that I had nothing from which to hide.