Matthew Thomas was born in the Bronx and grew up in Queens. A graduate of the University of Chicago, he has an MA from the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University and an MFA from the University of California, Irvine. His New York Times-bestselling novel We Are Not Ourselves has been shortlisted for the Flaherty-Dunnan First Novel Prize from the Center for Fiction and longlisted for the Guardian First Book Award. He lives with his wife and twin children in New Jersey.
For Eneas McNulty, a happy, innocent childhood in County Sligo in the early 1900s gives way to an Ireland wracked by violence and conflict. Unable to find work in the depressed times after World War I, Eneas joins the British-led police force, the Royal Irish Constabulary—a decision that alters the course of his life. Branded a traitor by Irish nationalists and pursued by IRA hitmen, Eneas is forced to flee his homeland, his family, and Viv, the woman he loves. His wandering terminates on the Isle of Dogs, a haven for sailors, where a lifetime of loss is redeemed by a final act of generosity. The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty is the story of a lost man and a compelling saga that illuminates Ireland's complex history.
If you’re a cynic, you’re a sucker. ‘They’ want you to believe in aliens, UFOs and ghosts, because if you go chasing lies, you never get to the truth. ‘They’ are the ultra-secret world ‘Committee’ – the real decision makers who tell governments what to do, dictate which way the stock market’s heading, start up a few wars when things get boring. They’ve had five centuries’ experience at the top to know that nothing spreads a rumour faster than a carefully worded denial. Unfortunately, the ‘Committee’ have been so busy manipulating the entire globe they haven’t realised that they themselves are being manipulated.
From opposite sides of the globe, former US commando Frank MacIntyre, and UFO enthusiast Dave Pierce, are about to stumble on the biggest conspiracy theory of all. And it’s a discovery that threatens to destabalise the whole planet.
The meek have just put on their boots, and they’re ready to do a bit of stamping themselves.