P.J. Laverty’s story about Joey Rippa, a talented Australian footballer living in the remote surfing village of Merri Bay on Western Australia’s coast, was a Secret Santa present, the limit set to $30 so the person who got it was in luck as it was on sale from the publisher in the lead-up to Christmas. For transparency, P.J. Laverty is a stablemate, a fellow author with Fair Play Publishing, and I have had the pleasure of meeting him on a few occasions and even sitting on a panel with him and fellow authors at last year’s Manly Writers’ Festival. I had read a few chapters of Man Overboard, a novella from a few years back that I found online, so I had an idea of what to expect, but had not ventured any further into his world. Seeing that Rippa 2 was in the works gave me the kick I needed to invest my time into the first, and quite fittingly on the flights to and from Perth for the AFC Women’s Asian Cup I devoured this book, only the last ten or so pages saved for a quiet finish a few days later.
The author’s style is unique. It mixes the true-sounding stories of life in Western Australia with comedy slapstick, perhaps a little like the Carry On movies with a touch of the famously unhinged Geordie comic Viz, and a bit of sarcastic Home and Away tossed in for good measure. When the main character Joey Rippa finds himself in some backwater town, Middleby, somewhere non-descript up North in England after a dream move to London turns sour, we enjoy his slightly over-the-top struggles and the outrageous characters he is forced to live and work with. It’s a little like the rite of passage of moving to University in England, where Rippa has no money and has to survive the misery of a cold, wet and dark winter in a shit-hole that only has football to keep it’s inabitants happy.
I loved the cheeky Aussie references throughout, the names of people (and dogs) a nod to culture and football of the late eighties era. Think Kim Wilde, Kerry Dixon, Diamond White, Cold Chisel and Kidderminster Harriers. The story flowed well, even if the switch between comical and serious was a little abrupt at times, and I was invested in finding out more. I could relate to the late 80s, when I was myself of a similar age to the main character, and I could relate with the author, himself a migrant to Australia from a faraway mildly-exotic land.
The writing was almost flawless, only a few questions about grammar and punctuation that would be the cause of debate between editors and proof-readers, and the language and tone was easy to follow, no need for over-flowery language to stop you mid-sentence wondering what the author is trying to say.
I thoroughly enjoyed the book; I’m not sure if it’ll be everyone’s cup of tea, but for a middle-aged bloke who spent his youth growing up with football in northern England and now calls Australia home, there was so much that resonated with me that I could tolerate the Benny Hill moments. I’m looking forward to the second instalment. Joey Rippa might make a name for himself, maybe a call-up to the national team, and I’d be hoping he has better luck with his love life in the next part of his life story. His heroics with Middleby will not be forgotten.