Robert Rayner
Categories: Male Authors - Anglophone Authors - Authors of Juvenile Fiction; - Novelists - Authors of Young Adult Literature - Fundy Coast
Source: Author
Biography
A former elementary school principal, school district consultant, teacher and journalist, in England, Newfoundland, and New Brunswick, Robert Rayner now spends his time writing and teaching music. He lives on the Magaguadavic River in St. George, New Brunswick.
How has New Brunswick influenced your work?
Mostly – simply – as a setting for several stories, but I’ve also used bits of its history (loosely!) in plots, and some of the people I’ve met as characters.
What do you consider to be the highlight of your career so far?
I can’t think in terms of career "highlights". Every passage I write that I’m pleased with – and that entertains, and moves, and resonates with the reader – is a highlight for me.
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Literary Prizes |
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| Shortlisted, The Hackmatack Children's Choice Book Award - 2009 | In recognition of: Falling Star |
| Shortlisted, Canadian Children’s Book Centre, “Our Choice” - 2008 | In recognition of: Out of Sight |
| Shortlisted, The Hackmatack Children's Choice Book Award - 2008 | In recognition of: Out of Sight |
| Shortlisted, The Hackmatack Children's Choice Book Award - 2006 | In recognition of: Just for Kicks |
| Shortlisted, Canadian Children’s Book Centre, “Our Choice” - 2005 | In recognition of: Suspended |
| Shortlisted, Canadian Children’s Book Centre, “Our Choice” - 2005 | In recognition of: Just for Kicks |
| Shortlisted, Canadian Children’s Book Centre, “Our Choice” - 2004 | In recognition of: Miss Little’s Losers |
| Shortlisted, Ann Connor Brimer Award for Children's Literature - 2003 | In recognition of: Walker’s Runners |
| Shortlisted, Margaret and John Savage First Book Award - 2003 | In recognition of: Walker’s Runners |
| Shortlisted, Canadian Children’s Book Centre, “Our Choice” - 2003 | In recognition of: Walker’s Runners |
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Featured Publication |
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Scab (2010) |
Excerpt: The Crying Man is back on the street. He stands in the doorway of an abandoned warehouse, weeping loudly. The sound rises above the hum and hiss of the traffic. The muscles of his face are knotted. His mouth gapes open as if the sobs are being torn from him. He holds his hands to his face one minute, the next holds them in front of him, as if offering the weight of his suffering to the world. His cap is pulled so low it almost touches the upturned collar of his long khaki overcoat. His face is blotchy and red, stained with salty trails of dried tears. His chin is dark with two or three day’s stubble. Wisps of gray hair straggle each side of his face. Passersby hurry past. A few stop and stare. From where Scab stands, watching from an office doorway across the street, it’s obvious they want to offer help. But the man’s filth and smell hold them back. They look for somewhere to leave money. Finding none, they too move on. |
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Find this author in the New Brunswick public libraries catalogue.
Source(s): Author
