I could never quite see the attraction of those two enduring Aussie soaps, ‘Neighbours’ and ‘Home and Away’, although if you have the climate the Poms have to put up with I can see a reason for their adoration of them – a daily dose of Oz sunshiney-ness (yes, I know – not the right spelling. I just prefer the word that way) would bring light and colour to their dun world. It is, though, undoubtedly true that the twin mainstays of our early evening programming have provided an excellent breeding ground in the basics of acting for many who have gone on to wider fame nationally – even internationally – in the movies and music. Some have become household names – you know them! I don’t have to list! – as well as fodder for the celebrity rags.

One who has taken a road less travelled for ex-soapies is Tristan Bancks. He is now starting to attract attention as a wordsmith for younger people. He has tried his hand, post his role as Tag O’Neale in HandA, at all manner of vocations, including directing and anchoring tele shows here and in the UK. I suspect it is as a writer that he’ll find his forte. He surely will on the basis of ‘Two Wolves’. This is his latest and perhaps his most polished of now a very worthy list of titles, including ‘My Life and Other Stuff I Made Up’, ‘Mac Slater Cool Hunter’, ‘Galactic Adventures First Kids in Space’ and the ‘Nit Boy’ series (about a kid with the worst case of nits in world history). Most of these are seemingly designed to tickle the juvenile funny bone, but the content of ‘Two Wolves’ is decidedly no laughing matter. It would have many a young fella, as well as perhaps a lass or two, on the edge of their seats. I wish it was around in my teaching days.

This habitué of Byron Bay is right on the money with this novel. It measures up to his goal of producing a ‘…fast paced work appealing to youngsters.’ – with something here to inspire as well. There is excitement and suspense on every second page as Ben Silver and feisty little sis Olive try to find a way out of the pickles they get themselves in. You see, Ben, just entering teenagerdom, has a father who is – let’s not mince words – an out and out dropkick. What I do like about this nasty pasty, as horrid as he is to his long suffering missus and kids, is that, despite his depicableness, nary an expletive exits his mouth, no matter how much he does his block. Brainless bogan that he is, he doesn’t need the f-bomb to get his point across loud and clear. This would have been a temptation for many more ‘cutting edge’ practitioners, but thankfully Bancks doesn’t succumb.

The author has used, as a basis for his storyline, recent headlines about bank malfunctions, awarding surprised customers instant wealth. Most, of course, would do the right thing – despite the ‘big fours’ crusade to rip off its customers to the max – but a few souls have taken the money and run. Such a twit is Ben’s old man. With his family going bush in response and the cops hot on their trail, the young man, who has desires to be a law enforcer one day, has some decisions to make – does family or right come first. What happens is our ever resourceful hero tries to tread a fine path between the two – a path that becomes increasing fraught as the book proceeds apace. In all this Ben is mentored by Sam Gribley, with those who are au fait with children’s literature knowing all about his own battles on his side of the mountain. He’s a good lad to have in your corner.

This book would be the perfect offering to dish up to a class approximating the age of the main protagonist. Ideally, presenting it to a cohort of boys would achieve the best results. In the past I have found selecting class novels quite onerous as it is far easer keeping girls under the thumb than boys, so usually gender bias is skewered the latter’s way for peace – and I was guilty of that myself . I was aware of doing so and tried to make up for it in other ways ensuring, for example, most of my short stories, read aloud, had girls at the helm. Olive, as resilient as she is, because of her age, doesn’t cut the mustard here.

The ending is a ripper as Bancks’ pulls out all stops to have our hero, after all he went through, finally have to face his nemesis in a final showdown. This novel possesses much that is life affirming and is simply a thoroughly good read. I enjoyed it immensely and I am sixty plus!

Tristan Bancks’ website = http://www.tristanbancks.com/

I do miss Neville H. He’s my mate. Between us we could happily, contentedly feel like ‘…analogue men in a digital age.’ He’s still my mate, my best male mate. I just don’t get to see see him as often as I would like. We met aeons ago – shared a school uniform and a local footy team. His only downside is that he’s Collingwood through and through – and I cherish the ‘poo and piss’, as he repeatedly calls them – Hawthorn. We did uni together – shared digs at a residential hall – married our sweethearts and commenced our teaching careers. Then we moved to different locales, gained new mates, parted from our spouses and lost touch. Eventually he returned to my town, we reconnected, reviewed our pasts and made ready for the autumn years. Mine involved a beautiful woman from Hobart, his one from Thailand. I moved south to be with my Leigh – and now, sadly, I miss my mate.

I miss our Friday nights – together, us two ‘analogue men’, throwbacks to when it was all less complicated, less busy. The digital age has made our lives so full of crap. I tried to comprehend it and largely failed. He gave less ground than I. We’d sit around the table at 15 Lane Street, telling tales large and fantastical. I’d cook him tea, we’d sink a few reds. Then we’d get onto politics – always dangerous. He was rabidly Green, my beliefs of a lighter hue – but I couldn’t bring myself to vote for anyone else. Then we’d settle down to watch the footy – except if the Hawks were playing. Then we’d make it another night. But if the Maggies were on and they lost, it would always be the fault the ‘white maggots’. But this was a put on, an aberration for Neville H has more humanity in his little finger than Tony Abbot in his whole being. He looks out for the downtrodden and repressed – he’d give them the shirt off his back. I am extremely content with my new life by the river in Hobart Town and I trust he’s found similar in our old stomping ground up north. We will continue to get together on occasions, but there’s no regularity now. I wouldn’t swap what I have here by the river, but I do miss those Friday nights with Neville H.

That’s why I enjoyed Nick Earls’ take on it all in ‘Analogue Men’ so much. Reading it was akin to those Friday nights with Neville H, getting gently to the ‘Mr Wobbly’ (in joke) stage and talking, talking, talking. Earls’ central protagonist, Andrew Van Fleet, is about to enter the autumnal years – the years yours truly and Neville H inhabit (with some joy I might add). We know our pomp is substantially behind us, but like Andrew, reckon we’re not completely kaput. We have all downsized – although Neville H reverted to up-sizing a while ago – he’s had a second wind. Van Fleet has been a high flyer, but like many who have realised the digital age has taken away their lives, he has opted for a quieter existence on reaching the cusp. He wants more time with family – his missus Robyn; his offspring, Abi and Jack. And then there’s his dad out there in the granny flat – ailing in his late dotage, but once a legend in in his own lunch-box on the local radio airwaves.

And that’s what Andrew VF takes on – a managerial role in a radio station – as if that’s going to lead to a quiet life! It’s here he comes face to face with another legend in a terminal decline – albeit one of a different ilk – Brian Brightman. Once the king of the wireless in Brisbane, his star has long fallen- but he still battles on at the bottom of the ratings chart, trying to compete with the shock jocks and the new shiny hip kids on the block. He has a patter that has seen better days, often getting him in deep shit he is so out of touch with political correctness – or is he? Andrew soon finds he is drowning – he’s beyond his depth and now he just can’t swan away to NYC or HK on a business caper. There’s also family conundrums a plenty to deal with. Then comes the ill-conceived plan to combine both and solve all issues in one knockout blow. It involved minding BB at a comedy festival down on the GC, paralleling that onerous responsibility with a family holiday. It spells disaster – it was.

Earls has created some characters for the ages with this. From the two kids with digital apparatii hanging off every appendage to a constipated bulldog – he is back to the rare form of his earlier novels that bought so much Mangoland sunshine to a chillsome Tassie winter.

Of course Neville H and I never reached any great heights in our professional careers – which does not mean we weren’t successful at what we did. There is, though, in AVF a soul I can relate to. Luckily I do not have to compete with all that plurry technology as much with these days of retirement bliss. I loved this book. At times I laughed till the tears were streaming. All the trouble Andrew had with his buttocks is priceless. Sure the climax involving a shark and an errant tongue is a tad over the top – so weird it just may be a possibility (except in fiction) – but even with this I was happy to be taken along for the ride. So thank you Nick Earls. For a short time perusing your offering I was around that table again with Neville H, fixing up the world, with not a digital device in sight. Your book, Mr Earls, did that for me – even if it made me miss Neville H even more.

Nicks Earls’ website = http://nickearls.wordpress.com/