Not straight
The story of a gay All Black hopeful tries hard but doesn’t ring true.
The gay All Blacks: statistically, they must be out there. They’re certainly out at club rugby level, as in Auckland’s NZ Falcons, and Christchurch’s Heroes. But there are top rugby players who won’t, or can’t, declare themselves. One is Alec Haudepin, the protagonist of this debut novel.
Alec is New Zealand rugby’s golden boy, brought up on a farm, an outstanding first-five or utility back for Auckland, a thoroughly nice young bloke whose on-field prowess lends him “a kind of patrician standing”. The All Blacks selectors are considering him for a Northern Hemisphere tour.
Alec is confronting his own sexual orientation, but can’t decide whether to confront others with it. The tension between private and public, overt and hidden, is always a promising framework for fiction.
Plenty happens, often via flashbacks. We meet the attractive Maxim and his matching piano. Alec presents caps at his old high school, recalls a commendably subversive English teacher, has haka issues, attends a Schubert recital, gets chosen for the tour. Shifting perspectives match his hesitant progress towards acceptance and acknowledgement. There’s an ending where love may conquer all, but it’ll take a while.
Sheppard works hard at the rugby scenes and there’s a spirited climactic game against the Poms. The sport’s brotherhood is recognised, along with its brutishness. We get some nice character flicks – the high school kid hastily tucking in his shirt because he’s talking to an almost-All Black. Blokes mean well.
It’s a generous book but it has its problems. The dialogue is earnest but seldom authentic. Utterances such as, “My dream of wearing the black jersey was slipping away”, indicate a certain tonal deafness. The author tells us far too much: “He had a strange, dissociated sense of passively watching what was going on.” The writing labours: just about every noun comes weighted with adjectives; most verbs drag adverbs behind them. Oh, for an able editor.
The intentions are admirable, and there’s nothing wrong with an author’s reach exceeding his grasp, providing he keeps working at it. It will be interesting to see what Sheppard can manage if he
relaxes into his style. BROKEN PLAY, by Nicholas Sheppard (RSVP Publishing, $34.99).
The sport’s brotherhood is recognised, along with its brutishness. There’s an ending where love may conquer all.