In Quarantine – by Megan Clement
Nonfiction Megan Clement Nonfiction Megan Clement

In Quarantine – by Megan Clement

WINNER , ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE 2021

… The neon green BP sign across the road means the opposite of what it used to. It means I am stuck in this liminal space, with a guard at my door 24/7, squirrelled away to protect the health of Australians everywhere. This would be fine except for the fact that I’m here for 14 days and my father is dying and I don’t know if he has 14 days left …

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A Shadow From Country – by Naomi Parry
Nonfiction Naomi Parry Nonfiction Naomi Parry

A Shadow From Country – by Naomi Parry

SHORTLISTED, ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE 2021

… I’ve been researching the Gai-mariagal warrior Musquito since 2003 and today we are looking for a name list that I have heard about, which is supposed to tell a story of the time he was exiled from Sydney to Norfolk Island. We go through indexes and bibliographies and footnotes without finding anything. Then Melissa flicks through the computer catalogue and pulls up an image. It’s a seraphic face, illuminated in the computer’s glow.
Who is this?
It’s Black Jack. It’s his death mask.

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The Sound of Light – by Verity Borthwick
Nonfiction Verity Borthwick Nonfiction Verity Borthwick

The Sound of Light – by Verity Borthwick

SHORTLISTED, ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE 2021

Children conceived under the northern lights are blessed with intelligence and wisdom. It turns out this is a recent urban legend masquerading as ancient knowledge. Still, it has propagated and even appears on the Greenland tourism website, which is where I read it. I did not know this when I visited Greenland, but something about the idea of phantasmal lights had the feel of fate, and it gave me hope. It’s strange how much I let in the idea of fate during that time …

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If You Join the Circle, You Must Dance – by Katerina Cosgrove
Nonfiction Katerina Cosgrove Nonfiction Katerina Cosgrove

If You Join the Circle, You Must Dance – by Katerina Cosgrove

SHORTLISTED, ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE 2021

… I think of her when I sweep my outside decks in the morning. I think of her when I scour cooking pots with steel wool at night. I wonder, when I put on a load of washing, how it felt for her to soak and wring out those heavy woollen jumpers, like the one she wore when she died, or handwash her soiled nylon stockings in the cold grey light of a Melbourne winter.
She ended up with one of those stockings around her neck.
I find a photo stapled to Kalliope’s marriage certificate. It’s the first time I’ve seen her face …

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Hospitality – by Nicole Melanson
Nonfiction Nicole Melanson Nonfiction Nicole Melanson

Hospitality – by Nicole Melanson

SHORTLISTED, ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE 2021

… My father’s death took fifteen days, during which time I left a breadcrumb trail of tears from one end of my house to the other. Brush my teeth, weep. Skim an email, weep. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Flightless, cocooned with my husband and children in lockdown, I had no sharp edges to grate myself against. I needed the kind of cathartic cry that comes from overstimulation, a total sensory meltdown. In the absence of sufficient triggers, I lived vicariously through Gordon Ramsay’s temper …

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