Rupert Smith's work is known to, and loved by, many of us. Writing as James Lear, he has written some of the funniest and sexiest erotic gay fiction. This book is funny, sexy and brilliantly written as always. But it does more than that. Robert is a young gay man, out on the London gay scene, doing drugs and tricks and lurching pleasurably but unhappily from one sensation to the next. His best friend, Jonathan, a memorable fictional creation, leads an even more unfocussed life, seemingly untouched by adulthood or responsibility.
In the flat beneath Robert's lives Michael, an elderly man whose partner has just died. The book interweaves the life story of Michael, and his now-dead partner, Mervyn, with those of Robert and Jonathan, taking us back to the 50s, to national service, to an era when queers were thought to be sickos and the London gay scene, while vibrant, was clandestine and criminalised. The relationship between Michael and his RAF national service buddy, Mervyn, and the whole atmosphere of the period, are depicted with a mixture of comedy and poignancy reminiscent of David Lodge. The underlying theme of the book is that superficial similarities between the two eras may be few but the common threads of desire and love and loss between the people in each are very close. Smith writes without sentimentality and with understatement and the book is the more powerful for it. As a work of gay fiction in 2010, this one will be hard to beat.