Hannibal Barca of Carthage: The Man who almost destroyed the Roman Empire before its rise to greatness

From the moment I first opened a history book as a child, I was captivated by the stories of the past: empires rising and falling, extraordinary personalities confronting impossible circumstances, great battles turning upon unexpected decisions, and ordinary people finding themselves caught within events far larger than themselves. History never seemed to me a dry collection of names and dates. It was the greatest collection of human stories ever assembled.

That fascination remained with me throughout my life and eventually found expression in my own writing. My historical books are written particularly with younger readers and newcomers to a subject in mind. Rather than attempting to reproduce the detail and academic depth of specialist histories, I try to provide an accessible doorway into a period, personality or conflict — enough context to understand what happened, why it mattered and, I hope, enough excitement to encourage the reader to discover more for themselves.

Many of my books explore military history, empires, great commanders and the people whose decisions changed the course of events. They are intended for curious younger readers, including pre-higher-education teenagers, while remaining accessible to adults encountering a subject for the first time. My aim is simple: to tell the story clearly without allowing unnecessary detail to overwhelm the adventure, tragedy and humanity that first made history fascinating to me.

Storytelling, however, extends beyond history. My collections of traditional fairy tales have become another important part of my writing. Drawn from different cultures and storytelling traditions, the tales are adapted for modern young readers while attempting to preserve their wonder, humour, adventure and moral purpose. Where older versions sometimes imposed extraordinarily harsh punishments upon their villains, I have often preferred consequences involving repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation or banishment, while retaining enough danger and mischief to make the stories exciting.

Some of these short tales deliberately leave questions unanswered. A fairy tale does not always need to explain everything. A child asking “Why did she do that?” or “Do you think he deserved to be forgiven?” can be part of the purpose of the story. I hope such questions encourage conversations between children and their parents, because the interpretation a parent brings to a tale — and the discussion that follows — may ultimately be more valuable than my own.

Whether writing about a battlefield, an emperor, a legendary hero or an enchanted kingdom, I return to much the same principle: tell a good story, make it accessible, encourage curiosity, and leave the reader wanting to know more.