About E.S. Kraay

Olympian

From the Olympic stadium in Ancient Greece to the banks of the Housatonic River … E.S. Kraay writes stories about things that make a difference.


A native of the Berkshire Hills in Western Massachusetts, I cherish fond memories of Tanglewood, the Pittsfield Public Library, Herman Melville, Norman Rockwell, Richmond Pond, Pontoosuc Lake, the Hashim Boys, Rudy Benedetti, my Auntie and Babcia in Housatonic and my Aunt Sadie in Westfield, and so many, many other people and places that remain dear to my heart.

As a young boy, I was blessed with a wonderful English teacher, Norman Najimy.  Mr. Najimy had a passion for the written word, and his passion still burns in me and drives me to write books.  He inspired me to read every night.  That was half a century ago, and I haven’t missed a night since.  Before I was a student of Norman Najimy’s, my life’s dream was to be an archaeologist.  After that eighth-grade English class, I wanted to write books.

I wandered for 40 years in the desert and did not fulfill that ambition until 2008 when The Olympian was published.  A dozen years and well more than a half-million words later, I lay claim to seven novels.

My heart has led me to each story with the conviction that despite the challenges we face as members of an ever-expanding universe, someone, somewhere will always rise to do what’s morally right for this planet we call Earth and for the billions of creatures who inhabit it.

  • As It Is Written

    Many years ago, one of my favorite homilists – Redemptorist Father Greg Weist – moderated our monthly book club that featured Flannery O’Connor’s collection of short stories Everything That Rises Must Converge.  He opened the discussion with these words, “The kingdom of heaven is like a pig farm…”  It was a brilliant way to begin…

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  • Saving Lincoln

    History intrigues me, and I have a passion for it, and always have.  As a young boy, I knew what an archaeologist was before I could spell it.  When asked in the 50s “What do you want to be when you grow up?” without hesitation I responded, “An archaeologist.”  While my friends read comic books,…

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  • The Penitent Thief

    I lowered my eyes this morning as I began my prayers and saw this on the ground between my feet. I immediately recalled these words from The Brothers Karamazov… “I was there when the Word who died on the cross rose up into heaven bearing on his bosom the soul of the penitent thief.” Fyodor…

    Read more: The Penitent Thief