There’s something strangely sharp about fiction set in and around Albany, Western Australia (WA). It’s strange because, on the outside, Albany seems so soft. It presents a unique landscape of curving coastlines, picture-perfect WA farmland, and an overall muted colour palette of green and grey. Cut off from the rest of Australia and the world by swathes of ocean, bush and farmland, its unique blend of isolation and history shaped all of us who had the privilege (and, to some of our ambitious young minds, misfortune) of being raised there.
On this, the dawn of 2026 and the town of Albany’s bicentennial, I’d love to explore Albany’s fictional presence through three of my personal favourite novels/book series set in my hometown: Tim Winton’s Lockie Leonard trilogy, Amanda Curtin’s The Sinking, and Zac & Mia by A. J. Betts. I hope to capture the essence of the place and its people through the themes they have in common, with characters tied together through the emotional resilience born from landscape, history and seclusion.
(A quick note: I’m reflecting on these works through the lens of fond reminiscence rather than recent re-reads, so any errors are entirely my own and will happily be addressed if pointed out in the comments!)
Albany: an emotional landscape…
The landscape of Albany is a character all its own, reflected with verisimilitude (my all-time favourite word) by legendary WA author Tim Winton. His Lockie Leonard trilogy was a staple of Australian kids’ literature in the 1990s and 2000s, and its setting, Angelus, is heavily inspired by Albany, the author’s childhood hometown. They even filmed the 2007 TV adaptation there, in which I appeared as an extra a few times!
13-year-old Lockie is a surfer, uprooted from the big city and replanted in a beach town in the middle of nowhere with his “embarrassing” family. The raw, unpredictable, and sometimes harsh environment he finds himself in is a mirror to his emotions and growth. He surfs the waves, but also the highs and lows of adolescence. He adapts to the volatile weather (as the saying goes, “If you don’t like the weather in Albany, just wait five minutes”) just as he adapts to, and accepts, the sometimes volatile impacts of his own choices and experiences. The ocean strengthens him, the town challenges him, and the physical environment forces him to confront fear, embarrassment, and vulnerability. Albany—sorry, Angelus—is equal parts beauty and harshness, and it’s Lockie’s training ground for emotional resilience that will see him through the rest of his life.
Where history blends with the present…
The town of Albany stands in Kinjarling (“place of rain”), the proud home of the Mengang Noongar people. Built as a military outpost in 1826, it began with the silent promise of violence, and death indeed stained its progression from an outpost to a settlement and then to a fully fledged town.
One of these deaths is mostly forgotten: the murder of Little Jock King, sandalwood gatherer, former convict, and, according to critically-acclaimed author Amanda Curtin’s historical novel The Sinkings, possibly a person with intersex variations. Named after the area near Albany where their dismembered remains were found in 1882, the book is equal parts an exploration of silenced identity and the importance of confronting history, however gruesome and uncomfortable, to build stronger, more honest identities for communities and individuals. Though Albany isn’t the sole focus of this story, its presence as a lonely port town that’s used mostly as a place to stay while going somewhere else represents an important element of Albany’s history and present. Eras collapse into each other as characters navigate trauma and kindness, proving that emotional resilience isn’t just personal but intergenerational.
I’d like to add a special shoutout here in the history section to the novel That Deadman Dance by acclaimed writer and professor Kim Scott (you may have heard of him). It’s a story of first contact told with as much hope as destruction, from what I understand, and will no doubt provide an invaluable perspective. Despite living in Albany for most of my life and attending university for seven years (three of which were spent studying writing at the same university where Professor Scott teaches!), I somehow never knew about this book until I started doing research for this post. It’s at the top of my TBR list now, though, never fear.
And isolation breeds community and belonging
Zac and Mia, the titular characters from A. J. Betts’s award-winning Young Adult novel, have cancer. Zac, a farm boy from Albany, is in isolation in Royal Perth Hospital battling his second recurrence of acute myeloid leukaemia (AML) when he meets Mia, a city girl with osteosarcoma, in the room next door. Their reactions to their diagnoses and treatments, and their recovery on Zac’s family’s farm that follows, is like chalk and cheese. Zac likes the quiet, rural nature of his home, giving him space to process his illness and fear; Mia feels removed at first, somewhat lost. The contrast between their worlds highlights the difference (and the overlap) between isolation and loneliness, developing a bond between them in that quiet space outside of everyday life.
Parts of the novel are set in Albany proper, representing Mia’s desire to return to her life before the cancer. It somehow only serves to heighten the sense of remoteness she feels, because she goes alone. It highlights the feeling that in remote settings, interpersonal relationships are deeply meaningful, inspiring the strength and motivation needed to develop powerful emotional resilience. She is changed by her time with the place and its people.
In short, Albany feels like an emotional ecosystem in its own biosphere. Lockie Leonard teaches us that the landscape itself shapes Albanians through physical and emotional challenge. The Sinkings shows the personal strength that comes from confronting the weight of our history, refusing to let silence define identity and the truth. In Zac & Mia, physical isolation is the catalyst for connection and healing. Together, these stories are an example of what makes Albany (and the fiction set there) unique: it’s a region that moulds its people into a particular shape, resilient and adaptable. For the most part.
It’s also great if you like whales. And who doesn’t like whales?
It might not be set in Albany, but if this has left you looking for a story in Australia’s southwest, check out “Cthulu meets The Castle”—How a Bunbury fish and chip shop found international fame from an unexpected guest by Aldwyn Wise.
Lauren Hancock-Coffey is the co-founder and financial manager of Banksia Journal. She’s also a writer and devourer of historical fiction with a speculative twist and an avid fantasy RPG-er with more books and games than sense. She’s a full-time editor with a BA in Linguistics and an MA in Professional Writing and Publishing.
Thank you, Lauren. It’s lovely to know that The Sinkings is one of your favourites. :-)
Thank you so much for commenting, Amanda! Turns out I’m just as awkward online as I am in person talking to authors I admire, so I’ll just say that your dedication to historical research in fiction is inspiring and I’m so glad you stopped by. Thanks again!