The first time I held Kate Grenville’s: The Secret River in my hands, I could feel the shear weight of tome, the texture of the pages between my fingers and the smell of ink. It was not just a book—it was a deep, introspective look into our nation’s soul.

Australian historical fiction does that to people. Every time. It seeps into your body—from the inside out. Now, I’ll be the first to admit it, I’m not that strong a reader, because I have the attention span of a goldfish, but when I was reading Tim Winton’s: Cloudstreet I struggled to put the book. My eyes were beginning to turn square from focusing on the pages for so long, but my mind was fully in the moment—I honestly felt like I walking down Cloudstreet. That story claimed the Miles Franklin Award back in ’92, and it claimed a piece of me too.

These stories aren’t just tales—they’re time machines. Portals. Gateways into the moments that shaped who we are as Australians. The way we walk. The way we talk. The way we see ourselves reflected in this strange, beautiful, brutal land.

You and I, we’re the lucky ones. We’ve inherited this rich, messy tapestry of stories that highlight every aspect of Australian life—the good, the bad and the downright ugly. And, if you’ve ever turned in for the night, with any of the books I’m about to mention, then you’ll know exactly what I mean. These books transport us back in-time—lending us a birds-eye view—and enable to visit our ancient landscape until we feel the dust in our throats and the Aussie soil slip deep beneath our fingernails.

Joan Lindsay’s: Picnic at Hanging Rock is a fitting example of that—the book is haunting too—it’s like a half-remembered dream that donkey-kicks you in the middle of the night— leaving your heart racing with a blanket pulled tight over your eyes.

Then there is the contemporary classics like: Astraea and The Sun Walks Down. Each title rips the band-aid off our past wounds, then goes searching for meaning and understanding in places we didn’t know existed. Cruel in fashion, they shatter, wide apart, the unquestionable truths about colonialism. The treatment of First Nations peoples gets laid out bare across the table. Stories of genocide that make your eyes water. Then there’s Whitewashing and White settlement—all of it set against the unforgiving canvas of our great southern land.

So, without further ado, let’s explore what makes Australian historical fiction unique, the themes that course through its veins like blood, and the modern formats breathing new life into the stories of our past.

What is Australian Historical Fiction?

Imagine standing at a crossroads. In one hand, you’re clutching pages of research—cold, hard facts about dates and places and people. In the other hand, something wilder: imagination stretching its fingers toward the unknown. When you bring your hands together, you will find this untamed space—dry, desolate and sparse—that’s where historical fiction lives. That is space between facts and a dream. This is our country’s reality—both beautiful and ugly.

In Australia, this genre carries something different in its DNA. Something that sets our stories apart from, say: Gone with the Wind or Huckleberry Finn, The Grapes of Wrath and countless other American tales. We’ve never endured a Civil War, but we did survive The Great Depression. We’ve never fought tooth and nail to end slavery, but our First Nations did fight for their very own existence and, with that said, this country has—no doubt—experienced its fair share of travesties.

Which brings me to this point and platitude: Man can question our way of life. Even question our country’s many good fortunes and misfortunes. But what he cannot do is question our story—that is Australian Historical Fiction.

Defining the genre in an Australian context

Australian historical fiction captures stories set at least fifty years in the past, often written by authors detailing history through research alone—as opposed to recounting recent lived experiences. It’s a genre that resists pigeonholing. It morphs into alternate histories, time-slip novels, historical fantasies, and multi-period narratives with the ease of a Dreamtime serpent.

This is a land whose indigenous history stretches back 65,000 years. Let that sink in for a moment. Sixty-five thousand years. That’s what makes the stories so special—it’s a collision of cultures, and timelines, and people so drastically different that they almost can’t exist in the same universe—but they do!

It’s a lot of history preserved through oral traditions and mythology, especially in terms of the stories surrounding the Dreamtime, which stand alone as an example of First Nations history that existed long before European muskets ever bloodied our shores.

For non-indigenous Australians like me, it can often feel like we’re hearing these stories for the first time because our history in Australia began only yesterday, and also because many of these stories were all but banished from the history books. But that section of history is all a blink of an eye compared to the oldest surviving culture known to humanity—so, the true history has prevailed.

That’s where much of the tension in our stories comes from, too. It’s a dramatic cultural juxtaposition that can’t be ignored—not in Australian historical fiction, nor anywhere for that matter. Australia, like anywhere colonised by the British Empire, once held white supremacy as its founding principle, and this brings a poignancy to our historical fiction. It brings about a harshness and complexity as we try to make sense of how the past has shaped who we are today.

Our fiction often romanticises the country’s past. Yet the best stories—the ones that keep the candles burning, and the ones that transcend generations—don’t mind getting their hands dirty examining the messy realities of:

• The survival challenges faced by both free settlers and convicts in penal colonies
• What author Kate Grenville calls: the secret river of blood flowing through Australia’s history
• The transformative experiences of immigrants building new identities
• Indigenous perspectives on colonisation and resistance

Many of these compelling works have claimed the prestigious Miles Franklin Award. Plenty more have gathered international accolades. And the best keeps Australian historical fiction’s place among world literature secure and undeniable.

How it differs from other historical fiction

First, our historical fiction often centres on that fundamental tension I mentioned earlier. That space between the world’s oldest continuous culture and a colonial presence that arrived, creating one big shitstorm that still haunts our country, right up to the present day. Unlike American historical fiction, our stories confront the reality of indigenous dispossession alongside settler experiences.

Second, the landscape itself becomes a character—breathing, challenging, nurturing, and destroying with the full force of Mother Nature. There’s a harsh beauty to our environment, from the red dust of the outback that works its way into your skin, or the salty air of coastal settlements that rusts hinges and preserves our golden shores—but it can kill you, if you don’t respect its power and, in a way, that’s how it shapes characters and plots in ways unique to our literary tradition.

Writers also explore themes that reflect our national development. Eleanor Dark’s: The Timeless Land reconstructs Captain Arthur Phillip’s early contact with Aboriginal leader Bennelong. Jock Serong also chronicles the impact of colonialism on First Nations people with unflinching honesty, proving that the truth really does hurt.

In recent years, the genre has evolved beyond traditional Anglo-centric perspectives, further contributing to the knowledge of the reader, but also providing the perspective of a historian—even when that historian uses fiction as their prime medium.

This broader approach embraces narratives from diverse cultural backgrounds too, and more importantly, offers a reflection on Australia’s multicultural reality that feels honest—if not confronting.

Unlike countries with longer documented histories, Aussies have to grapple between imagination and dedication, in our historical fiction, and that’s because we’re often portraying times or events that have been poorly documented in European records—or, completely erased. Yet this challenge has sparked an approach that blends research with respectful speculation. The result: works that shed light on the modern day, connecting past with present via a contemporary understanding.

Popular Themes in Australian Historical Fiction

There are several recurring motifs that have shaped our literary landscape, too. These themes offer insights into the forces that have defined, or masked Australia’s past. Forces that continue to influence who we are today. Forces that bind us. And forces that divide us, whether we choose to acknowledge them or not.

Colonialism and Indigenous perspectives

The interaction between First Nations People and Europeans began as a collision course—harsh and often fatal—our own ‘Big Bang’. This was something that wasn’t taught in my high school history class, either, but it’s forced me—like many other Australian’s—down different paths when learning about the frontier massacres for the first time. There’s a real sense of shock to it. Plus, a sense that we’d been lied to our whole life. Historical Fiction kicks that barricade wide open.

The scars are now bare, and that’s why colonialism remains the most profound theme in our historical fiction.

Indigenous writers have been ensuring that our understanding extends beyond a white perspective too, and they make certain this understanding goes beyond the ‘Early Settler’s’ narrative, allowing us to hear from the displaced and dispossessed.

Kim Scott’s: That Deadman Dance is a fine example of this, and his acclaimed work examines the interactions between said settlers and Indigenous peoples—from the early cordial relations right up to the breakdown in dialogue and onto the generational pain. Scott, the first Aboriginal Australian to win the Miles Franklin Award, presents a character who sees these breakdowns:

We thought making friends was the best thing and never knew that when we took your flour and sugar and tea and blankets that we’d lose everything of ours.

If that line doesn’t rip your chest wide open, then check yourself for a heartbeat. I first read it five years ago, and it lives in my head rent-free, to this day.

War and national identity

Warfare is something which has shaped how we see ourselves as Australians, too, but Historian Henry Reynolds says Australia’s war obsession began long before the birth of the ANZAC’s, and even Federation.

Research also shows three distinct orientations toward this warring legacy: those who align with war heritage as our national identity; those who align while critiquing its mythological status (the legend of ANZAC versus soldierly skullduggery abroad, and even the questioning of ‘Sampson and the Donkey’s’ facts of the matter); and those who resist the assumed connection between war and our identity.

At Federation, debates centred on who or what constituted a new national type [think: ‘White Australia’], as well as the proper settings for such stories. People were aware that literature had a role to play in defining our national character and, conversely, we’ve been trying to write ourselves into existence since day dot. But whatever the persuasion, it’s hard to ignore the impact war has had on Australian literature—and vice versa.

Rural hardship and the outback

The Australian outback emerges as both setting and a character—in its own right—presenting endless challenges of survival in an unforgiving landscape. The ill-fated Burke & Wills expedition is a perfect example of how the land can swallow you whole if you don’t respect its power.

Notable works include Doris Pilkington’s: Follow the Rabbit Proof Fence—a story of three Indigenous girls who walk home along a rabbit-proof fence after being removed from their families. Claire G. Coleman’s speculative fiction: Terra Nullius” presents another haunting Australian story, using the landscape as a backdrop for examining colonisation through a creative lens.

And then there’s Peter Carey’s: True History of the Kelly Gang. A reimagining of Australia’s most famous bushranger, Ned Kelly, who, despite all the thieving and murdering, became somewhat of a hero to the working classes. An Australian Robin Hood figure—so to speak—whose stature remains relevant to this day.

Kelly stood his ground against the English colonists—using the bush to his advantage. This highlights that the landscape in these stories isn’t mere setting and scenery—it’s an adversary, a provider, a witness or, to the Kelly Gang, a haven from the authorities.

I’ve passed through the lands near Glenrowan, when I was still in the military—where Kelly made his last stand. The way the eucalyptus trees sit, like time is standing still, under the midday sun, in contrast to the strange feeling that history was still moving all around us, and just beyond the horizon. Because of stories, it felt like the legend of ‘Ned’ continued to live on

Immigration and multiculturalism

Since white settlement, Australia has accepted successive waves of immigrants—mostly as a consequence of war—creating a rich, but often conflicting melting pot with many differing cultural perspectives. Despite one-fifth of Australians being non-English speakers, this diversity is still underrepresented; therefore, reinforcing the myth that Australia is a monolingual nation, even though the country prides itself on its multicultural identity—which, ironically, shines through best in our literature.

Have you encountered Yasmine Gooneratne’s: A Change of Skies? It’s quintessential in exploring the balance between assimilation and preserving cultural identity. Or Melina Marchetta’s: Looking for Alibrandi [or its film adaption] which examines the tension between Italians and Australians.

Then there’s Nam Le’s acclaimed collection: The Boat, drawing on his experience as a Vietnamese refugee, and retelling a story all about survival.

When I read these stories, I think of my grandmother’s family who immigrated to Australia—via Germany and Britain—in the years prior to the outbreak of war. She never had accent, but she did carry her father’s German surname, and I can only imagine how life must have been for her, during the WW2 years, and going to school near Brisbane—carrying her dad’s name. But, thanks to Historical Fiction writers, stories such as hers are now beginning to evolve.

Modern Formats in Australian Historical Fiction

Contemporary Australian historical fiction has evolved beyond leather-bound tomes and traditional narratives. Innovative storytelling has emerged, reshaping how we retell history in ways that feels modern.

Timeslip and dual timelines

Time-slip novels have gained significant popularity among Australian readers, particularly in recent years. These stories often begin with a character who feels displaced, travels to another time period, then returns with a powerful secret. This format creates a perfect fusion of realism and speculative fiction.

Belinda Murrell, a prominent author in this space, explains her fascination:

With all of my time slip books, I am fascinated by the idea of exploring the past and learning lessons which can help us understand our own time and issues with more clarity.

Her works often spring from visits to historic mansions with compelling histories.

Australian timeslip fiction has flourished, accounting for more than 50% of publications.

These include works like:

• Tumbleglass by Kate Constable (2023)
• The Boy Who Stepped Through Time by Anna Ciddor (2021)
• Elsewhere Girls by Emily Gale & Nova Weetman (2021)

I found myself lost in ‘Elsewhere Girls’, at least a year ago now. I was reading it on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The way the book slipped between timeframes felt like diving beneath a crashing wave, then coming up for air… in a different century.

Speculative and genre-blending fiction

Australian writers often combine historical settings with speculative elements to explore complex themes. Claire G. Coleman, a Noongar author, uses science fiction to unpack colonisations impact on Australia. Her award-winning novels stand at the forefront of speculative fiction in Australia.

Claire notes that genre labels help readers find books they enjoy, yet they create problems when works cross boundaries. Bookshops simply don’t know where to put her books, she says. But in breaking with conventions, Claire’s changed how genre is seen in our literary landscape.

This blending allows writers to address historical injustices in a creative fashion. By combining experimental fictional techniques, authors address any missteps in our archives, representing those who lacked the education or finances to leave any real imprint on our literary history.

Short novels and novellas

Compressed storytelling forms have proven effective for historical fiction, and the shorter format allows writers to focus on characters in a way that’s unimpeded by detail. Novellas are also powerful in conveying historical trauma. This is evident in Nam Le’s: The Boat, which follows Vietnamese refugees fleeing to Australia.

How to Choose the Right Book for You

Consider these three factors when choosing a title that aligns with your preferences. Whether you’re new to the genre or a seasoned reader, this approach will help you find books that speak to you.

By historical period

The Historical Novel Society defines the genre as work written 50 years post-event, or as written by someone who was not alive at the time of those events. Consider which era of Australia’s past intrigues you most:

• Pre-Federation stories examine colonial settlement, gold rushes, and frontier conflicts
• Early 20th century tales explore federation, the World Wars, and Depression-era Australia
• Mid-century narratives reflect post-war immigration and cultural transitions

For younger readers, specific historical events, such as WWII, offer good entry points. Plus, they’re found on most educational reading lists for students in Years 9 and beyond.

I still remember reading My Australian Story: Gallipoli when I was in high school. How it made the ANZAC legend feel less like a dusty textbook and more like something that happened to real people, with fears and hopes—which still seem unfathomable when you consider the circumstances in which the soldiers worked under.

By theme or setting

Historical fiction often explores settings and themes that might align with your interests.

The ‘lost white child’ motif is a recurring theme in Australian literature. This is often reflected in our societal values, but that also stands in stark contrast to the experiences of the Stolen Generations.

Novels can be about locations, too. For instance, David Malouf’s: Johnno characterises Brisbane to a point where the city becomes central to the story. And he does so with gripping effects—reaching us with a more sentimental tone.

Rural settings also remain particularly popular. Australian landscapes often function as characters too. And while The Flinders Ranges might not be as popular as Uluru… in: The Sun Walks Down, you can’t help but feel its presence hovering overhead you with every page.

By author style or format

If you prefer compact narratives, novellas offer what I’d call compressed narratives. Or, if experiential fiction is your jam, Jane Harrison’s: The Visitors blends modern settings with the past.

First Nations perspectives, like Tara June Winch’s: The Yield, offer a contrast to colonial narratives. And works like Mireille Juchau’s: The World Without Us offer a meaty alternative to more traditional approaches.

Top Australian Historical Fiction Authors to Know

Behind every compelling historical narrative stands an author with a unique vision. And often, these works transform historical perspectives via memorable fiction. The following five writers have shaped the way I view Australia and its past. And, with their personable approaches, they’ve left an indelible mark on me with their achievements.

Kate Grenville

Kate Grenville is one of Australia’s most acclaimed historical novelists. She’s often recognised for her study of colonial relations with Indigenous peoples. With: The Secret River, a Booker prize nominee, her work is vast and often grilling of our complex past.

Peter Carey

Peter Carey holds the rare distinction of winning the Booker Prize twice. Once for: Oscar and Lucinda and secondly for: True History of the Kelly Gang. Beyond his international acclaim, he’s also claimed three Miles Franklin Awards. And, in that breath, it’s hard to argue against his position as an Australian literary giant.

Alexis Wright

Alexis Wright brings an Indigenous perspective to Australian historical fiction. She won the Miles Franklin Award with the amazing novel: Carpentaria. Her work includes both fiction and non-fiction. Plus, in 2024, she became the first author to win both the Stella Prize and Miles Franklin Award in the same year.

Miles Franklin

Miles Franklin (1879-1954) is both a pioneering author and a patron of Australian literature. Her 1901 novel: My Brilliant Career established her literary reputation. Yet she had to publish under the pseudonym: Brent of Bin Bin for her subsequent works.

Her legacy continues through the Miles Franklin Award. The Stella Prize, named in her honour, celebrates women’s literature.

Miles’s humble desire was always to recognise literature about the Australian Way of Life.

Fiona McFarlane

Fiona McFarlane represents contemporary excellence in Australian historical fiction. Her novel:The Sun Walks Down, set in 1883 South Australia, explores the ‘lost white child” motif, And her short story collection: The High Places won the Dylan Thomas Prize. With credentials from several universities, Fiona adds perspective to her narratives by examining colonialism through differing viewpoints.

Conclusion

Australian historical fiction stands as a powerful mirror through which we confront the complexities of our national identity. Throughout this guide, we’ve explored how the genre uniquely captures the tension between 65,000 years of Indigenous history and relatively recent European settlement. This distinctive characteristic sets Australian historical fiction apart on the global literary stage.

The evolution of the genre has been remarkable, with traditional narratives and contemporary formats like timeslip novels, or speculative fiction blending in history, Australian authors continually find innovative ways to examine our past. These diverse storytelling approaches allow readers to engage with historical events from multiple perspectives, enriching our collective understanding.

Themes of colonialism, war, rural hardship, and immigration run deep through these works, reflecting the forces that have shaped our nation. First Nations voices have become increasingly prominent, ensuring that historical understanding extends beyond colonial perspectives to include those who were displaced.

Finding your perfect Australian historical fiction match depends on your personal interests—whether you’re drawn to specific historical periods, particular themes, or certain storytelling approaches. The works of acclaimed authors like Kate Grenville, Peter Carey and Miles Franklin offer excellent starting points for your reading journey.

Australian historical fiction does more than simply entertain—it challenges us to reconsider our understanding of the past and its influence on present realities. These narratives encourage critical reflection on the complex forces that have shaped our multicultural society and national identity. Though sometimes confronting, this literary examination ultimately contributes to a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of what it means to be Australian—both in a historical and modern sense.

I started this journey by holding a book in my hands. I’ll end it the same way—offering you a passage into our shared past, an invitation to walk alongside characters who’ve struggled and triumphed on this ancient soil. Because that’s what Australian historical fiction does best; it reminds us that history isn’t just dates and facts in textbooks. It’s people. It’s stories. It’s us and it’s Australia and True Blue.