Shameless

Liesel Schillinger

IF Bridget Jones's gay brother were to write a diary of his own, with a little help from the Farrelly brothers, the result might read something like Paul Burston's rueful and raunchy Shameless, a hootingly funny yet strangely tender first novel about the post-breakup sexcapades of a hapless gay Londoner named Martin and his (usually) luckier friends.
— The New York Times

Publishers Weekly

British author Burston's spritely, feisty debut follows a formerly decorous gay man's indoctrination into a free-spirited lifestyle of nightclubs, gym workouts, casual sex and recreational drugs. "Fairly handsome" Martin comes home one day to discover that his boyfriend of four years has left him for a "rent boy," so he throws his quiet routine out the window and joins good friend John, a flight attendant, on an endless tour of London's gay nightlife. Meanwhile, Martin's other good friend, hip business professional Caroline, finds herself at the mercy of both a cocaine habit and some dark suspicions that her metrosexual boyfriend, Graham, is actually gay. While Martin and John party excessively, things go from bad to worse for Caroline, whose personal paranoia forces her to mistakenly "out" Graham at a friendly gathering. Then she's caught sniffing drugs at work-and then there's a case of pubic lice. As Martin bulks up at the gym, John starts cooking his own drugs and has a dancing "Britney moment," all while obsessing over his latest conquest: Latin sex-god Fernando. Burston is wise to ground his story on appealingly befuddled Caroline, even though she and everyone else is in a state of drug-induced obliviousness (a scene depicting Martin's father popping Ecstasy and dancing shirtless during Gay Pride makes even the reader wince). The perfect-bodied vanity and dizzyingly juvenile perspective eventually become tiresome, but Martin, Caroline and company, snorting their way through the London club scene, make for a brisk beach read. Agent, Sophie Hicks at Ed Victor Ltd. (June) Forecast: A blurb from Queer as Folk creator Russell Davies touting this debut as "outrageously funny" should generate interest, and a pre-summer release date will mean that there's plenty of time for folks to pick up Burston's book along with the sun block and beach snacks. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Two gay men and their pseudo-hag go looking for love and drugs in the London club scene. It's not surprising that British author Burston acknowledges Russell T. Davies here, since this debut is so clearly influenced by Davies' fizzy UK TV show Queer as Folk. It could almost have used some of the same characters' names. Readers may think at first that the story is going to be about 32-year-old Martin, whom we meet in the opening pages as he is slowly realizing that Christopher, his serious boyfriend, has just left him after acquiring a new, gymed-up physique and the wandering eyes to go with it. Martin's best mate John-a flighty flight attendant who's mentally a 15-year-old, with a sense of caring compassion to match-is sort of sorry for him, but not really, and he uses Martin's newly single status as an excuse to drag him out to every club and bar in town so John can show off his new drug-dealer boyfriend Fernando. The third in this little triangle is Martin's friend Caroline, a Vogue-ready young professional about town with a boyfriend, Graham, whom she's convinced is gay, and a mounting coke habit. None of them seems terribly bright, but they do like their drugs, and a good chunk of the tale is filled by Martin and John's wild, Ecstasy-soaked escapades. Meanwhile, Caroline spins around in her own insecure orbit. She drives the actually quite heterosexual Graham away by trying to out him at a family dinner, and then her boss catches her doing lines on her mousepad. Although he gives Martin the denouement, Burston seems more emotionally invested in Caroline's character, relegating John and Martin to their own stunted immaturity. A friend-triangle so busy with the bright lights of the bigcity that it never quite decides whether to be a fun read or a morality tale. It ends up a slick but unrewarding mix of the two.