In order to write this review properly, I may need to contradict myself. This is because what I would like to do is to concentrate on the majority of the pages in this wonderful book, and not get hung up on the very few that raise a certain issue. However, since it's almost inevitable that steam will escape from some readers' ears, I can't ignore it entirely.
The issue concerned is denoted by three words in small print on the back cover: "Some explicit content", and though I can now be accused of delivering a self-fulfilling prophecy, I will indeed discuss it. However, since William Nicholson saves it largely for the end, I will too.
Rich and Mad represents a considerable departure from Nicholson's previous titles for young readers the Wind Singer and Nomad trilogies, both works of fantasy. This is a contemporary novel dealing with the tangled love lives of a group of typical modern teenagers, in particular Maddy Fisher and Rich Ross.
The plot, though it contains a few nice twists, is simple enough: both Rich and Mad are looking for love, though at the start of the book not with each other. Rich, a thoughtful, introspective type, is smitten with the school's supermodel Grace Carey tall, beautiful and utterly unobtainable. Maddy likewise declares to Grace, and to another friend Cath, that she wants and needs to fall in love, and though initially at a loss as to who the lucky object of her affections might be, she soon settles on a boy in the year above her the gorgeous Joe Finnigan largely because he wanders into her parents' shop one afternoon at the end of the summer holidays.
Both Rich and Mad are beginners in love and sex; Mad has kissed a few boys, but not "properly", and Rich's experiences, other than in fantasies or through books lent to him by their rather strange English teacher, Mr Pico, amount to a zero.
Both live in a world of expectation and peer pressure in Mad's case from the activities of Imo, her older sister, and those of the desirable Grace, whose love life is exciting yet mysterious; in Rich's from his equally innocent mates. Yet both Rich and Mad soon find their desires unrequited, setting them off on a different direction, towards each other.
Where Nicholson excels is in his portrayal of these teenagers' fears, hopes, desires, friendships and enmities. I've rarely read a book that as swiftly and skilfully brings half a dozen characters vividly to mind; each of them convincingly and sympathetically created. Rich and Maddy's journeys are delightful and joyous and, despite some difficult moments, this is that rare thing, a happy book. And yet it is the end of their journey, and ultimately the raison d'être for the book, which brings us to the elephant in the room; the sex scenes.
I have no objection to sex scenes in novels, whether for a teenage or adult audience, on the grounds that they are immoral or reprehensible, or even potentially gratuitous. The problem for me is simply that they are too intrusive, and overshadow the rest of the writing. A few naughty bits and that's where everyone's attention will focus, which is a shame when the quality of the writing is so high.
Alexander Waugh, when hosting the Bad Sex award, made the point that for him there is essentially no successful way of writing sex explicitly. The result will be toe-curling, clichéd or, perhaps worst of all, unintentionally funny; and personally, as with the use of bad language in books, I think there's usually a subtle way around the matter that enables the rest of the writing to stand free.
That being said, I would want to defend Nicholson's right to write this book as he has, even if I find it less strong as a result. And maybe the problem for Rich and Mad is that the final scene in the book is, after all, its whole point. Take it away, and what would be left? How else would you handle it? Maybe the answer is to be found in the old-fashioned way, with a good solid set of ellipses . . .
Marcus Sedgwick's Revolver is published by Orion.
