Brian Burland (1931-2010) was undoubtedly a Bermudian writer. He made no attempt to ignore his identity. Because they are difficult to obtain, I’ve only read three of his books. But all three are about Bermuda. They refuse to be “transatlantic”; rather, by restricting their focus, they address a common humanity. Which is the most that any writer can strive for. It’s because of his dedication to Bermuda that he becomes a great writer. He becomes himself.

For those people who have never read Brian Burland, I thought a small introduction to three of his books would be helpful. As mentioned, his books are hard to obtain because they are out of print and exist either as highly expensive hardbacks or badly damaged paperbacks.

To begin, The Sailor and the Fox (1973) is under 100 pages, but it gives a concise picture of mid-20th century Bermuda politics, social barriers, sexuality, natural environment and class structure, and all of this is encapsulated in a boxing match taking place on the 350th anniversary of Bermuda’s discovery: the first non-segregated boxing match on the island.

The White contender is Sailor Saltus, a 49-year-old boxer with a long history of being “the champ” in Bermuda with a sick mother and an absent alcoholic father. And the Black contender is Phineas Fox, a 27-year-old boxer with much vanity about his sexual prowess, who nonetheless is philosophical during breaks when his friend, Bowlie, is patching him up.

Whereas Saltus’s love-life consisted of sleeping with American tourists (widows and divorcees), Fox is more interesting: he has been sleeping with a White woman whose family lives in the prestigious Tucker’s Point part of the island. This is a woman he knows he cannot marry. But, when lying next to each other, Fox learns that “all colours are beautiful”.

Halfway through the match – or through the book, rather – an American millionaire says that he will give the loser $25,000 – a significant increase to the winner’s prize of £7,500. This throws the match and the audience and the whole book into confusion, for without a clear winner, a definitive end to the competition that is boxing and Bermudian life, everything falls apart. If you know anything about Bermuda, the metaphors sit powerfully. If you do not, the boxing match and the story will entertain.

Surprise (1974) was the follow-up to The Sailor and the Fox, and concerns an ex-slave named Surprise who, with the held of his father, Senex, builds his own sloop. He gathers a few people, including his lover, to make a crew, and they set sail for the Caribbean with the express purpose of founding a new colony on one of the uninhabited islands.

The island they choose is Barbuda, and they reach their destination after a hurricane and a rather nice interaction with an American captain called McDonald. They build a fort on Barbuda, renaming it New Bermuda, and decide to write to the American president, Tyler, to ask for protection against the English, as promised in the lionised Monroe Document.

When more runaways arrive from Bermuda, they seem to be followed by a British ship that not only wishes to reclaim the island from these colonisers, but also to capture escaped convicts from Bermuda (the people who came on the second boat).

Surprise and his followers kill the captain of this ship and destroy it with their cannons. They capture Britons and Americans, and send the Britons to another local island, and the Americans to Captain McDonald when he reappears.

After they destroy a second British ship by inadvertently striking its munitions supply, another British ship arrives - a huge iron ship with exploding warheads - and totally destroys New Bermuda.

Surprise is killed, along with many others, and we are left with his little son, Johnson, claiming the name “Surprise”.

It must have shocked Bermudian readers in 1974. We have an ex-slave giving up on Bermuda (disregarding the warning of his father, Senex, who basically says, “What will happen to Bermuda if all it’s best people leave?” which is a moot point in modern Bermuda) and founding a colony on an already-owned island that will be exclusively for Black people.

The thought of welcoming other Black Caribbeans, let alone White people, is anathema for these Bermudians. While they welcome a Caribbean man, they refuse to allow White people there.

This position is made more hypocritical given the aid Captain McDonald gives them: apart from agreeing to deliver Surprise’s “Monroe Document” letter to the relevant people, he also gifts the new colony two breadfruit tree saplings; according to him, it has saved many a Caribbean island from starvation, and any new colony cannot do without one.

We never see the fruition of this breadfruit tree – which suggests that, as McDonald warned, the New Bermudians refused to take care of the trees, and they have perished.

This is an awkward racial and political book. When a poem at the end of the book reminds us of Surprise’s bravery, my memories of his bullying, his bloated sense of righteousness, and his philandering, are stronger.

Perhaps the strongest idea here is the idea that bravery has no use. There is only desperation, and self-righteousness, whether imposed by a monarchy, or from within.

Given the Bermuda riots in 1977, I would not be surprised if this book fell into obscurity or was outright avoided or hidden by avid readers and Bermudian intelligentsia. It seems such an irresponsible book, but whether it makes us focus on our own irresponsible behaviour in Bermuda, is something we shall have to decide.

Whereas The Sailor and the Fox summarises Bermuda through the clever metaphor of a mixed-race boxing match, Surprise sketches the Bermudian man, or the Bermudian spirit, and ends up illustrating a cold man who surrounds himself with fawning uninventive women.

Love is a Durable Fire (1985) is a book about growing up, which turns into a book about un-growing. Set during the Second World War, it follows a young boy called James who arrives in England in 1942 to attend boarding school: to become a public-school man, so to speak, a mover and shaker in the British world.

He stays with rich relatives in Lincoln where his bedroom overlooks the graveyard. He’s worried he lies too much, but nothing really comes of this. I’m not sure if he becomes more truthful the longer he stays in boarding school: a very old English society with no place for colonials.

But lingering over James is how he used to have gay sex with someone his age in Bermuda. Then delusions of kinky grandeur flash alive. And James is always haunted by his sexuality.

The other half of the book is about James’s older brother, Christopher, a pilot in the RAF, who has hang-ups about his posterior being shot apart by German firepower. Once again, crude, homosexual connotations come to define this pilot who suffers from shellshock. And as we bid farewell to James, who sinks into the British education system, we meet Christopher as the main character, who spends the last quarter of the book with a psychiatrist.

These are riveting sections, all underpinned by diaries of being trapped in occupied France. And, indeed, the opening chapters, where young James adapts to English aristocracy, are written with love and attention.

But Love is a Durable Fire is too long. We can read the book as being overwritten and over-edited. It lacks the focus of The Sailor and the Fox. It’s also a far cry from the simplicity of Surprise, with that biblical shape boasting that inevitable climax.

So, here are three thought-provoking novels, which are also fun to read. Another example of what can happen when Bermudians put their minds to things. We can be remarkable, creative people, both in politics and art.

But it starts with that investigation into who we are. And there is no greater Bermudian investigation than the work of Brian Burland.

• Walker Zupp is a Bermudian writer, originally from St George's. He has published three novels, poetry, and non-fiction. His third novel, Fibber, was published by Montag Press