’Most Australians have at least a passing knowledge of John Simpson Kirkpatrick and his donkey. The story is a simple one of heroism and bravery – the young man who saved hundreds of soldiers in Gallipoli by ferrying the wounded to safety on the back of a donkey, only to die himself after getting caught in machine-gun fire. He was 22.

The reality is that there are two versions of Simpson – the one who actually existed, and the legend that has sprung from all the stories.

Author Wayne Macauley’s latest work, the novella Simpson Returns, takes a surreal look at what might have happened if those bullets hadn’t actually ended Simpsons’ life.

“He was a much, much, much more complicated character than the myth would have us believe,” says Macauley. “I was interested in the juxtaposition between the myth that has grown up around this story and the reality of contemporary Australia.”

By placing Simpson in a modern context, Macauley is able to ask questions about who we really are as a nation, about compassion and hypocrisy, and if we have changed at all over the past 100 years.

In Macauley’s novella, set in a contemporary Australian landscape, Simpson and his donkey have essentially been living a second life since they “died” in the war. For the last few decades, they have been trying to leave the state of Victoria and find the mythical “inland sea”, with reefs of gold, described by another famous Australian figure, Lewis Harold Bell Lasseter. Their journey keeps being delayed however as Simpson comes across people who need his help, including a mother driven to desperation after her husband left, an asylum seeker, and a teacher whose school shut down.

“The conceit of the book is that Simpson is still the committed helper that he was at the time of his supposed death and along the way he stops and listens to those who have fallen through society’s cracks … and he helps them on their way,” Macauley explains.

But writing a fictional account of a person who actually existed is tricky territory – it’s a fine balance to remain respectful while still allowing for imaginative leaps. In the case of Simpson Returns, this is made slightly easier by the fact that all the fictional aspects take place after the real Simpson died, so this is not an attempt to re-write history. However, even then, is it OK to bend and imagine a new path for someone who has become a legend?

Macauley pauses, then replies: “Even though it’s my imagination, I do feel still that I’m true to the true essence of this character and this story.”

When Macauley talks about Simpson – the real one – it is clear that he has a great respect for him, and a depth of understanding that goes beyond the basic sketched image that most people have. Probably because we’ve never really had reason to think deeper about the legend.

It seems strange to say, but Macauley’s version of a slowly deteriorating Simpson who, in between acts of kindness, abuses prescription medication and admits to having carnal relations with his donkey, is actually more respectful to the real man than the sanitised legend that has been growing and evolving since 1915.

“When I think about the way that the Simpson and his donkey story has been used, particularly by politicians in this country I just find it fascinating – the underlying hypocrisy of what is being said. That he is representative somehow of us as a nation.”

The vague Simpson of legend is usually Australian, a committed soldier, and, personality-wise, something of a blank slate.

In reality: “He was a Brit. He was a staunch unionist. He was a runaway. The only reason he ended up [there] was because he was trying to get free passage home to England. And yes, he was a hero in the trenches of Gallipoli for the short bit of time that he was alive.”

Dissecting the Anzac legend is a delicate challenge. There is sometimes a tendency to conflate criticising a war with criticising the soldiers who fought in it – but the two things are not the same. “The book is written with a careful eye on my ethical compass,” says Macauley. He criticises the war, not the warriors, and treats the fallen with empathy.

Almost as soon as Simpson was shot, his story was snapped up and bent to serve the war effort. Less than a year after his death a silent film of his accounts was released, called Murphy of Anzac. Myth quickly spackled over the real Simpson and replaced him with a more useful, embellished version.

“The early mythologising of Simpson was part of a big campaign aimed at getting more young men to fight that absurd war on behalf of the British empire and die” says Macauley. “Let’s not skate over the facts that there was a certain romanticising about Gallipoli that happened almost the day after it occurred for purposes of nationalist propaganda – no question about it. And the Simpson story was a part of that mythologising.

“I’m not anti-Anzac Day, I’m not anti-remembering the lives of fallen soldiers. Mostly what I’m anti is people using it for their own political ends. If there’s one takeaway from the book, it would be watch what people tell you.”

Having dug through the legend to find the man underneath it all, Macauley says he feels “right is on my side”.

“I feel that John Simpson Kirkpatrick – his real name – is kind of there on my shoulder. I feel that he would approve of my political take on this. In fact I’m quite sure of that.”

The kind of people that Simpson helps in the book are those who have been overlooked, let down or deliberately ignored by modern society and the Australian government. As a result, says Macauley, “I’m sure he’d be turning in his grave when politicians take him on as the standard bearer of something representing the modern Australia. I think he’d be laughing at that.”

The Simpson of legend, the one we are most familiar with, was originally created to sell war. In contrast, the Simpson of Macauley’s book – and, based on the few truths we know, of real life – is more about compassion.

• Simpson Returns is out now through Text Publishing