The Last Race by Celeste Walters & Juice by Katy Watson

It had to happen – a rush of books about the Olympics. But that doesn’t mean they’re all bad or that they won’t last now that the fuss is over. Celeste Walters’ The Last Race, her second book for young adults, should certainly be around for a while. The cover alone could sell the book and word of mouth should do the rest. Her young protagonist Pippa is in training with the Olympic swimming team. When her best friend and rival crashes out of contention, Pippa’s stakes go up. ‘You’re the best in the world,’ her coach tells her, but it doesn’t feel that way to Pippa. Something’s wrong and it’s all her fault. Why else would Felicity be in a coma? Why else would she feel so guilty? The answers are in a mix of past and present so cleverly intertwined that it’s easy to forget which is which. This is partly due to the way Walters slides in and out, and partly because she hoodwinks us by writing the past in the first person present, and the ‘present’ in the traditional third person past. Together they make a powerful mix, bringing Pippa closer and closer to what could be one of T.S. Eliot’s ‘overwhelming questions’: what do you do when your best friend is the only thing standing between you and your dream? When your mother would rather you bend the rules than. lose a race? When you could have everything you want – if only the price were worth it? For student writers The Last Race would make an excellent teaching aid. Walters rarely tells us anything directly. It’s all conveyed through action, snippets of thought, or sparingly used metaphors that feel like part of Pippa’s personality rather than the author’s style. She also paces the plot well, building suspense in incremental steps and keeping sub-plots running without letting them take over. As a demonstration piece, there’s even the added bonus of occasional flaws, such as the over-use of the word ‘suddenly’ to keep the story moving. Other strengths include the attention to detail and the rounding out of even minor characters. Pippa’s mother is a great invention. High-energy, prickly, combative, she’s the classic pushy mother without being a caricature. Then there’s Pippa’s father, the ‘failed’ artist who somehow survives his wife’s frequent put-downs; her little brother Mikey, dubbed ‘Dr. No’ because it’s his favourite word; and Ambrose and Albert finishing each other’s sentences in the men’s wear store. Even the boys are well done, especially Jamie, who is so suited to Pippa, yet falls for Felicity, like every other boy in town. All this is set against the grind of training, of being late at 6.30am, of doing extra to prove you’re OK when you’re not and want the thrill of the moment on the podium. Although the Olympics are over, The Last Race could be just beginning. I’m not sure that Pippa and Katy Watson’s Jenna – or Juice as she’s known for her speed on the track – would get on. While they share some uncanny parallels in their plots, the two books and the two girls are very different. Although Juice is slightly younger and at a lower level of competition, she is much racier than Pippa. Her language is stronger and – I hate to say it – her concerns more trivial, right down to her craving for Flo-Jo nails to psych out the opposition. Plot-wise the situation is reversed. It’s now Juice who is the better athlete, and her friend Sam the tryer who never quite makes it. Or it was until Sam mysteriously starts catching up, winning and then breaking Juice’s records. Again, there’s the conflict between friendship and the drive to succeed, and the all-important question of just how far one should go in order to win. Juice has another problem too – she’s fallen for her ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ training partner, which makes even her preparation complicated: ‘I slipped on my two-piece. My bum stuck out. I tried some bike pants with an oversized T-shirt. My bum still stuck out.’ And several outfits later: ‘At last – I had the look. My black and purple two-piece, with the waist rolled down to show off my new navel ring.’ Luckily for her, and us, Von is too smart to be impressed by a navel ring or the infamous blood-red nails. Perhaps because it’s her first novel, Watson uses a less sophisticated structure than Walters, but even so, has trouble with the sub-plots. Juice’s eccentric Gran, her mother’s embarrassing pregnancy – ‘way too weird’ at forty-two – her new friendship with a glamour girl – they are all disparate threads that intersect more by chance than necessity. Juice certainly learns a lot on her way to selection in the State team, and kids will enjoy her racy style and occasional steamy kisses, but Juice the book seems more a typical teenage story overlaid with the Olympics, rather than a work with something lasting to offer.

Lesley Beasley

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