George Kemp’s timely small-town story Soft Serve is one that readers will whip through like fire through bush.
Best known for his work in theatre for young people, Kemp turns his focus to novels with a story that explores the small-town perspectives of people from all walks of life.
Soft Serve opens at the funeral of Taz who left his hometown shortly after turning 18 to chase the dream of living in the big smoke of Sydney. Months later, he dies in a hang-gliding accident.
After the wake, Taz’s friends – Fern, Ethan and Jacob – gather at the local McDonald’s, a happy hangout for them since their teenage years, to ‘cheers’ Taz over soft serves. The friends agree to return each year to mark the day.
We jump exactly two years on, where a bushfire threatens to engulf the town, yet many residents decide to carry on with the day as normal. Pat, Taz’s mother, now works behind the Maccas counter, her former career as a counsellor and her sense of purpose undone by her son’s death.
Pat is the only one working when Taz’s friends come to play out their annual ritual. Tensions rise, with the tragic loss of Taz still ever present, especially on this day. While Fern and Ethan have plans to move on with their lives, Pat and Jacob appear stuck in their grief. It’s only when fire closes in that they need to leave the past behind and face their futures.
Soft Serve: place and time
Structured almost like a play, Soft Serve unfolds in scenes of place and time. The fictional NSW town of Yinabil is described by local RFS firefighter Lotte as a place so familiar it could be anywhere: ‘Anyone who grew up here could go to any small town in the country and walk from the pub to the kebab shop six beers deep and guess their way perfectly. They’re all mapped out the same way.’
The novel frequently shifts narrative perspective, like a film, from wide angle to close point of view, which can occasionally feel jarring, particularly to read different emotions for characters within the same chapter. But this intimacy, paired with the time jumps and flashbacks, allows readers access to Taz even after his death, which deepens the understanding of each character.
Although framed as a coming-of-age, coming-out novel, Soft Serve is equally shaped by a mother’s grief. Pat is such a strong presence that she will stay with you long after the final page.
Kemp’s repetition in phrases is rhythmically pleasing throughout, yet at times, the language feels too elevated for the setting and its characters. References to The Ritz, and descriptions like ‘tectonically’, ‘Banksy-esque’, and ‘effervescence’ briefly pull the reader out of the world. Similarly, when 22-year-old Fern cites Nicole Kidman as a god-like figure, the reference feels slightly out of step with her age and interests.
It’s the simple yet evocative descriptions of place and purpose that deepen the meaning of the themes of overcoming grief and loss, such as Pat describing Epicomic growth: ‘Heard an RFS bloke say it on the news last night. It’s the tiny green shoots you see on a tree trunk after a fire’s ripped through – takes a while, but it’s a plant’s resilience, it’s response to damage and stress. To push through.’
While certain narrative choices feel like missed opportunities, Soft Serve ultimately circles back to its core thread: community, and what we are willing to risk to protect one another.
This is a cracker debut for Kemp, and one that signals an exciting future as a novelist.
