Great cities need great storytellers. As the world around us changes and grows, new perspectives add to the complexity of how we see ourselves — our story is always being written and rewritten. Five authors have been nominated for the 2017 Toronto Book Awards, given out each year to honour the best stories told about this city. Starting Sunday and continuing every day through the week, the Star will run an excerpt from each book to give readers a flavour for the authors and the stories. The final excerpt will run Thursday, Oct., 12; that evening the winner is announced at a ceremony, open to the public, at the Toronto Reference Library’s Appel Salon.

In keeping with the spirit of the award and acknowledging the impact that books both by Toronto authors and about the city have on the community, we asked each nominee: Which Toronto writer/book has most influenced you?

Here’s what they had to say:

Jen Agg, nominated for I Hear She’s A Real Bitch

I first read John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany as a 16-year-old girl, desperate for any escape from the stifling confines of suburban life. As a teen, I approached books (especially fiction people actually like read) with a cool snobbery — absolutely positive I wasn’t like other 16 year old girls — but I was COMPLETELY sucked in to the complex world of narrator, John Wheelwright (mostly because of how vividly Owen Meany jumps of the page in a flurry of fast talking all caps). I fell in love — with beautiful storytelling, with Owen Meany AND WITH ALL CAPS.

Catherine Hernandez, author of Scarborough

I know that Rohinton Mistry resides in Brampton, but I feel it fitting that as someone on the eastern edges of Toronto, I have been deeply inspired by an author just west of this megacity. I still remember holding a weathered copy of A Fine Balance wondering if I had what it takes to tell stories the way he did in that masterpiece of a novel. There are images still burned in my mind from those pages, which I dog-eared and highlighted. Each sentence was a lesson. Each chapter was an extraordinary gift.

B. Denham Jolly, author of In the Black: My Life

I was probably more influenced by culture shock than by any writer or book. In 1955, when I arrived in Canada as a student, I was aware of my Blackness in a way I have never known in Jamaica. First understanding, and then navigating Canadian culture was part of my experience that would later drive me to write. I loved Canada, but was regularly treated unjustly by Canadian institutions. I saw Canada’s own Indigenous population being treated in the same way. I developed mechanisms to survive and prosper in my adopted country. These experiences, and my inclination to thrive despite them proved to be my most significant influences.

John Lorinc, one of the editors of Any Other Way: How Toronto Got Queer

While I’ve read a lot of powerful writing about Toronto, from novels such as Michael Redhill’s Consolation to histories like John Sewell’s The Shape of the City, the work that sparked my interest in the city’s past was A Toronto Album: Glimpses of the city that was, by Mike Filey (UTP 1970). My parents had a dog-eared copy that I loved to peruse as a kid: all these black and white images of another city, one seemingly lost to time, and yet taken in location that were already familiar to me at a young age. That’s the origin of my fascination with Toronto’s history, in all its guises.

James Maskalyk’s, author of Life on the Ground Floor

In a city like ours, there are as many inspirations as there are directions to look. If I had to choose one, it was where I glanced while in the basement of Massey College, working on my last book: towards Ursula Franklin’s [The Real World of Technology] desk. She was a leader not only in her field of metallurgy, but an equally ardent humanitarian. She has since passed away, and I only talked with her a few times, but she held not just the relentless curiosity of one of our greatest scientists, but the deep wisdom that humankind could claim no progress unless it happened in the name of peace. I believe her. It’s why I write.