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Yeah the Boys
A bold, propulsive novel about male friendship and masculinity, set in the world of Holden Sheppard's bestselling debut
Invisible Boys.
Seven years after escaping their rural hometown, the boys – Charlie, Zeke and Hammer – are back, though not as we left them.
Charlie's fighting spirit has faded as he's struggled to make it as a punk musician in Perth. The opening of a new gay bar by Curtis and Ahmed, an older gay couple who have become Charlie's mentors, offers him a different way to make his mark – but the bar's opponents have other ideas.
Zeke is lost. He knows what he stands against – the closeted life and conventional success his strict Italian parents demanded of him – but doesn't know what he stands for. He surprises himself by joining a gay footy is it the mistake his friends think it is, or will playing footy finally give him what he's always wanted?
Hammer has it all – fame and fortune as a star football player – or so he thinks. He's still closeted, and can't stand the AFL stuffing diversity initiatives like Pride Round down everyone's throats, especially his. But when he opens his mouth, he ignites a furore that throws all the boys' lives into chaos.
Unapologetic and unforgettable, this is the story of three boys finding their way back to each other, and finding their own ways to become men.
Seven years after escaping their rural hometown, the boys – Charlie, Zeke and Hammer – are back, though not as we left them.
Charlie's fighting spirit has faded as he's struggled to make it as a punk musician in Perth. The opening of a new gay bar by Curtis and Ahmed, an older gay couple who have become Charlie's mentors, offers him a different way to make his mark – but the bar's opponents have other ideas.
Zeke is lost. He knows what he stands against – the closeted life and conventional success his strict Italian parents demanded of him – but doesn't know what he stands for. He surprises himself by joining a gay footy is it the mistake his friends think it is, or will playing footy finally give him what he's always wanted?
Hammer has it all – fame and fortune as a star football player – or so he thinks. He's still closeted, and can't stand the AFL stuffing diversity initiatives like Pride Round down everyone's throats, especially his. But when he opens his mouth, he ignites a furore that throws all the boys' lives into chaos.
Unapologetic and unforgettable, this is the story of three boys finding their way back to each other, and finding their own ways to become men.
448 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 28, 2026
About the author
Holden Sheppard
10 books490 followersHolden Sheppard is an award-winning Australian novelist once described as "the lovechild of Rambo and Rimbaud".
A country boy, a weightlifter and a self-proclaimed “bromosexual”, Holden has won acclaim for the raw, blokey honesty of his emotional novels about the modern experiences of Aussie men.
Holden's bestselling debut Invisible Boys - a confessional novel about young gay men growing up in rural Australia - picked up major accolades including the WA Premier's Prize and the Hungerford Award. In 2025, Invisible Boys was adapted as a ten-episode television series for Stan Australia, which was nominated for the prestigious Peabody Awards in the USA and was also nominated for two AACTA Awards in Australia.
Holden's subsequent novels include The Brink – a thriller about young adults grappling with a murder during their schoolies trip – and King of Dirt, a gay bogan love story set in the world of construction workers. Holden's books have won widespread award recognition nationally, including winning the Indie Book Award and Ena Noel Award, and shortlistings in the VIC, NSW and SA Premier's Literary Awards, the Queensland Writers Centre's Adaptable Program and the Australian Book Industry Awards.
Holden's latest release Yeah the Boys is the long-awaited sequel to Invisible Boys. It won the 2025 Minderoo Artist Fund Award and is in stores from 28 April 2026.
Holden has worked as a screenwriter, writing two episodes of the Invisible Boys series. His writing has been widely published in books, journals and the media. He served as Deputy Chair of Writing WA from 2019-2023. Holden is an outspoken advocate for artists' rights, gay rights and men's mental health, for which he was recognised in the 2026 Australian of the Year Awards as a WA finalist in the Australia's Local Hero Award.
Known for a trademark larrikin humour that balances the heavier content of his books, Holden appeared in the 2022 "Bogans" episode of hit ABC TV series You Can't Ask That, was once featured in a bourbon advertisement, and barracks for the Collingwood Football Club.
Born and bred in Geraldton, Western Australia, Holden now lives in Perth's north with his husband and his V8 ute.
A country boy, a weightlifter and a self-proclaimed “bromosexual”, Holden has won acclaim for the raw, blokey honesty of his emotional novels about the modern experiences of Aussie men.
Holden's bestselling debut Invisible Boys - a confessional novel about young gay men growing up in rural Australia - picked up major accolades including the WA Premier's Prize and the Hungerford Award. In 2025, Invisible Boys was adapted as a ten-episode television series for Stan Australia, which was nominated for the prestigious Peabody Awards in the USA and was also nominated for two AACTA Awards in Australia.
Holden's subsequent novels include The Brink – a thriller about young adults grappling with a murder during their schoolies trip – and King of Dirt, a gay bogan love story set in the world of construction workers. Holden's books have won widespread award recognition nationally, including winning the Indie Book Award and Ena Noel Award, and shortlistings in the VIC, NSW and SA Premier's Literary Awards, the Queensland Writers Centre's Adaptable Program and the Australian Book Industry Awards.
Holden's latest release Yeah the Boys is the long-awaited sequel to Invisible Boys. It won the 2025 Minderoo Artist Fund Award and is in stores from 28 April 2026.
Holden has worked as a screenwriter, writing two episodes of the Invisible Boys series. His writing has been widely published in books, journals and the media. He served as Deputy Chair of Writing WA from 2019-2023. Holden is an outspoken advocate for artists' rights, gay rights and men's mental health, for which he was recognised in the 2026 Australian of the Year Awards as a WA finalist in the Australia's Local Hero Award.
Known for a trademark larrikin humour that balances the heavier content of his books, Holden appeared in the 2022 "Bogans" episode of hit ABC TV series You Can't Ask That, was once featured in a bourbon advertisement, and barracks for the Collingwood Football Club.
Born and bred in Geraldton, Western Australia, Holden now lives in Perth's north with his husband and his V8 ute.
Ratings & Reviews
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 75 reviews
Review of advance copy received from Author
As the author, I want the world to know that a tiny, jocular part of me wanted to title this book either INVISIBLE BOYS 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO or 2 INVISIBLE 2 BOYS. However, various alarmed publishing professionals advised me these titles would be deemed crimes against literature and would "hurt book sales" or whatever, and I was implored to reconsider.
So here we are with YEAH THE BOYS - the story of gay men finding their own ways to be men, and a celebration of male friendship, camaraderie, and footy. I humbly and without any trace of authorial bias give it 5/5 stars for being A FKN AWESUM READ. YEAH DA BOIZ!!
And to paraphrase Yogurt (Mel Brooks) from SPACEBALLS (1986): God willing, we'll all meet again in INVISIBLE BOYS 3: THE SEARCH FOR MORE MONEY. ;)
May 22, 2026
As I was reading this book, I was thinking very hard how I was going to review it. Invisible Boys was so important to me and I do think Holden Shepherd is an incredible author - and also genuinely a very nice guy. I guess that’s why I finish this book so disappointed; perhaps it’s my own fault for having the wrong expectations. Invisible Boys felt like a story for everyone while Yeah The Boys is very obviously not written for someone like me. These characters are SO different to who we are introduced to and I did miss who they were - especially Zeke, who I felt so connected to in the first book. He suddenly becomes someone I cannot relate to anymore, but then I sound like Sabrina as I say that and wow I really don’t want to sound like that.
I loved Hammers pov and you can tell that he is what inspired this whole story. From Invisible Boys to this book, Hammer felt very consistent and his storyline was satisfying. Oh Hammer, how you would hate heated rivalry. Also, any mention of Matt had me tearing up every time. Matt I miss u every day.
I did find some of the discussions about what being a real man is like a bit on the nose and found Xavier to be a very cartoonish villain. Clearly Shepherd has seen or dealt with a lot of things like this and has become a bit bitter 💀 But also, I’ve seen what’s happened to the only gay club in my town so. I get it.
Just like the Tool Shed, this book is not a space that I should be occupying but also, I don’t think a book should have to be relatable to be enjoyable and to be frank, I just didn’t enjoy it that much. I will always come back to invisible boys, but I can’t see myself ever picking this up again. Oh well, I’m still glad I got to see what happened to these boys and very clearly I am in the minority of not enjoying it, which I’m glad about.
I loved Hammers pov and you can tell that he is what inspired this whole story. From Invisible Boys to this book, Hammer felt very consistent and his storyline was satisfying. Oh Hammer, how you would hate heated rivalry. Also, any mention of Matt had me tearing up every time. Matt I miss u every day.
I did find some of the discussions about what being a real man is like a bit on the nose and found Xavier to be a very cartoonish villain. Clearly Shepherd has seen or dealt with a lot of things like this and has become a bit bitter 💀 But also, I’ve seen what’s happened to the only gay club in my town so. I get it.
Just like the Tool Shed, this book is not a space that I should be occupying but also, I don’t think a book should have to be relatable to be enjoyable and to be frank, I just didn’t enjoy it that much. I will always come back to invisible boys, but I can’t see myself ever picking this up again. Oh well, I’m still glad I got to see what happened to these boys and very clearly I am in the minority of not enjoying it, which I’m glad about.
July 29, 2026
Ik kon het een hele tijd niet vinden met dit boek, ik vergeleek het met de voorganger Invisible Boys en dat niveau haalde het niet. Ruim over de helft pakte het boek me alsnog, het rauwe en heftige van Invisible Boys was er en het boek kreeg meer diepgang. Het was goed om te lezen hoe het met de boys verder is gegaan, 7 jaar na Invisible Boys. En het was echt goed geschreven, alleen jammer dat ik mij daarvoor wel eerst door super veel mindere hoofdstukken moest worstelen.
Waarom kent GR trouwens geen halve sterren? 4 sterren is teveel, 3 eigenlijk te weinig. Maar ja, je moet wat.
Waarom kent GR trouwens geen halve sterren? 4 sterren is teveel, 3 eigenlijk te weinig. Maar ja, je moet wat.
May 15, 2026
I stayed up all night reading this. Frothed it. 🍻
July 19, 2026
I loved Invisible Boys and was so excited for Yeah The Boys, I finally got my hands on a copy and finished it this weekend. As excited as I was, I did finish Yeah The Boys with a few question marks bouncing around my head.
My favourite book from Holden is The Brink so the Holden Cinematic Universe was so appreciated with characters all coming together and intersecting in the story.
My apprehensions with the story is that identity politics amongst all the characters are such a massive overarching theme in this book. Awesome theme to explore as there is so much nuance to identity, representation, and how labels are perceived in these politics with gay men who don't fit into moulds that are comfortable for heteronormative norms.
I am just not sure if the way the story was written was really that nuanced and impactful as at times the dialogue came across as preachy rather than a grey exploration between black and white identity politics. Many times I anticipated the bigger conversation that character interactions were building to and when it happens it kind of falls a little flat.
The identity politics overall don't have to be perfect, the characters are all flawed and have their contradictions.
But if identity politics is the crux theme in the story, it should be explored well and honestly. I thought the story did touch on these conflicting identity values but could have done so in a more compelling and interesting way: being too woke versus being a slacktivist, the relationship between being a man and gay versus what is internalised homophobia, the nuance to platonic male camaraderie blurring into sexual exploits, progress versus principle (profiting and sustaining night life by including straight groups, catering to straight values to garner a larger audience and stronger voice, hiding your gay identity to profit from the high life of a successful AFL career).
I still loved the book, but maybe I set myself up for disappointment by building these concepts in my head while reading when the politics were never going to go that deep, even though identity was a major theme in the book.
What I can say was objectively a negative experience from the book was how Xander was written.
My favourite book from Holden is The Brink so the Holden Cinematic Universe was so appreciated with characters all coming together and intersecting in the story.
My apprehensions with the story is that identity politics amongst all the characters are such a massive overarching theme in this book. Awesome theme to explore as there is so much nuance to identity, representation, and how labels are perceived in these politics with gay men who don't fit into moulds that are comfortable for heteronormative norms.
I am just not sure if the way the story was written was really that nuanced and impactful as at times the dialogue came across as preachy rather than a grey exploration between black and white identity politics. Many times I anticipated the bigger conversation that character interactions were building to and when it happens it kind of falls a little flat.
The identity politics overall don't have to be perfect, the characters are all flawed and have their contradictions.
But if identity politics is the crux theme in the story, it should be explored well and honestly. I thought the story did touch on these conflicting identity values but could have done so in a more compelling and interesting way: being too woke versus being a slacktivist, the relationship between being a man and gay versus what is internalised homophobia, the nuance to platonic male camaraderie blurring into sexual exploits, progress versus principle (profiting and sustaining night life by including straight groups, catering to straight values to garner a larger audience and stronger voice, hiding your gay identity to profit from the high life of a successful AFL career).
I still loved the book, but maybe I set myself up for disappointment by building these concepts in my head while reading when the politics were never going to go that deep, even though identity was a major theme in the book.
What I can say was objectively a negative experience from the book was how Xander was written.
April 30, 2026
"Coming out is not the end of a story, or a universal balm. Life goes on after we're out, and life can be hard. If you ever feel like a munted pancake, before or after coming out, just know you still matter."
-Holden Sheppard (in the acknowledgements at the end of the novel).
This novel was propulsive and enthralling, and I tore through it at a rate of knots. Alongside the unashamed sexuality and celebration within this novel, Sheppard writes a love letter to queerness and masculinity, and how these facets of identity intersect. 'Yeah the Boys', a sequel to Sheppard's first novel 'Invisible Boys' was a wonderful and triumphant reintroduction to the characters of Zeke, Hammer, and Charlie. Where Invisible Boys was targeted at a young-adult demographic, Yeah the Boys ages with its audience, exploring the characters' struggle to fit in with conventional masculinity framed through adult fiction.
This book is unabashedly raunchy, tender, and emotional, and is a far cry from the sanitised representations of gay men presented in media targeted at a heterosexual audience. Most crucially, this book celebrates masculinity as something more broad than heterosexuality and that stereotypical 'machismo' figure. Sheppard champions an egalitarian view of male camaradierie, in which men can be strong, gay, emotional, and macho all at once- no shame required. He explores the complexities of trauma and repression experienced when one limited idea of masculinity is imparted onto men. and represents characters that survive and thrive despite this.
This book is a brilliant instalment in the 'Sheppardverse', and is definitely one of his best books yet!!
-Holden Sheppard (in the acknowledgements at the end of the novel).
This novel was propulsive and enthralling, and I tore through it at a rate of knots. Alongside the unashamed sexuality and celebration within this novel, Sheppard writes a love letter to queerness and masculinity, and how these facets of identity intersect. 'Yeah the Boys', a sequel to Sheppard's first novel 'Invisible Boys' was a wonderful and triumphant reintroduction to the characters of Zeke, Hammer, and Charlie. Where Invisible Boys was targeted at a young-adult demographic, Yeah the Boys ages with its audience, exploring the characters' struggle to fit in with conventional masculinity framed through adult fiction.
This book is unabashedly raunchy, tender, and emotional, and is a far cry from the sanitised representations of gay men presented in media targeted at a heterosexual audience. Most crucially, this book celebrates masculinity as something more broad than heterosexuality and that stereotypical 'machismo' figure. Sheppard champions an egalitarian view of male camaradierie, in which men can be strong, gay, emotional, and macho all at once- no shame required. He explores the complexities of trauma and repression experienced when one limited idea of masculinity is imparted onto men. and represents characters that survive and thrive despite this.
This book is a brilliant instalment in the 'Sheppardverse', and is definitely one of his best books yet!!
May 13, 2026
A great and VERY timely (AFL I’m looking at you) sequel. I love these characters so much.
July 7, 2026
Amazing! I knew it was a sequel to Invisible Boys, but I didn't realise characters from Holden Sheppard's other books were in it too. Gotta go back and read all of his books now!
June 14, 2026
The ups and downs of being in or out, or out and out, continue 7 years after Invisible Boys. The emotional turmoil is still there as the characters come to terms with new and old events and situations. Yeah ALL the boys! - it was great to catch up with them, and so good to find other boys from the Sheppardverse here too.
July 20, 2026
Been a while since I stayed up all night to finish a book. Loved everything it discussed that wouldn’t usually be talked out and the concept of queerness vs masculinity.
July 4, 2026
This follows Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer as they navigate adulthood, relationships, and identity in contemporary Western Australia. As old friendships are tested and new challenges emerge, each man must confront the expectations of masculinity, family, and belonging while searching for a life that feels true to himself.
Wow. Can I just start by saying that I have been waiting for this book since I read Invisible Boys in early 2020, and it I had a lot of expectations. 'Yeah, the Boys' did not disappoint. This was the perfect follow-up book. It maintained the emotional power and vibrant characters that made Invisible Boys so good, yet it was not merely a carbon copy of that book but rather stands powerfully on its own merits.
What struck me most about Yeah the Boys was its exploration of how trauma leaves wounds that can not simply be ignored—they must be acknowledged and healed. Although each of the main characters initially appears to be living a happy and successful life, the novel gradually reveals the emotional burdens they continue to carry. Their journeys show that outward appearances can hide deep pain and that true healing comes only through confronting the past with honesty, courage, and vulnerability.
The novel also offers a thoughtful exploration of gay masculinity and mateship, challenging the idea that these identities are incompatible. It presents friendship between men as a source of strength, loyalty, and healing, while showing that vulnerability and emotional openness are not weaknesses but essential parts of authentic masculinity. In doing so, Yeah the Boys reimagines what it means to be both a good mate and a gay man in contemporary Australia.
Another theme that resonated with me was the idea that healing requires a kind of "death to self." Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer must let go of the versions of themselves they have created out of fear, shame, or the need to survive before they can begin to heal. This idea is captured particularly well through the recurring mouse motif, which reaches its symbolic climax in the chapter Morte del Topo ("Death of the Mouse"). The motif suggests the necessity of shedding old identities and defence mechanisms, illustrating that genuine growth often begins only when the self shaped by trauma is allowed to die so that a more authentic self can emerge.
One of the most moving aspects of the novel was the way Matt's presence continued to haunt the narrative, even in his absence. His story lingers over Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer, shaping their memories, choices, and unresolved grief. I was deeply satisfied that the novel gave Matt's storyline a genuine sense of closure rather than leaving him as a permanent ghost of the past. That resolution felt both earned and compassionate, symbolising not only peace for Matt's memory but also a kind of rebirth for Charlie, Zeke and Hammer, who are finally able to carry the past without being defined by it. It was a fitting conclusion to a novel that is ultimately about healing, authenticity, and the courage to embrace a new life after trauma.
Few novels have affected me as deeply as Yeah the Boys. It emotionally wrecked me in the best possible way, leaving me reflecting on its characters and themes long after I had finished the final page. I confess that parts of it I found triggered certain things from my own life and friendships, but ultimately forced me to confront those more closely than I had.
Holden Sheppard has written a moving, compassionate, and profoundly human novel that I can not recommend highly enough.
Wow. Can I just start by saying that I have been waiting for this book since I read Invisible Boys in early 2020, and it I had a lot of expectations. 'Yeah, the Boys' did not disappoint. This was the perfect follow-up book. It maintained the emotional power and vibrant characters that made Invisible Boys so good, yet it was not merely a carbon copy of that book but rather stands powerfully on its own merits.
What struck me most about Yeah the Boys was its exploration of how trauma leaves wounds that can not simply be ignored—they must be acknowledged and healed. Although each of the main characters initially appears to be living a happy and successful life, the novel gradually reveals the emotional burdens they continue to carry. Their journeys show that outward appearances can hide deep pain and that true healing comes only through confronting the past with honesty, courage, and vulnerability.
The novel also offers a thoughtful exploration of gay masculinity and mateship, challenging the idea that these identities are incompatible. It presents friendship between men as a source of strength, loyalty, and healing, while showing that vulnerability and emotional openness are not weaknesses but essential parts of authentic masculinity. In doing so, Yeah the Boys reimagines what it means to be both a good mate and a gay man in contemporary Australia.
Another theme that resonated with me was the idea that healing requires a kind of "death to self." Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer must let go of the versions of themselves they have created out of fear, shame, or the need to survive before they can begin to heal. This idea is captured particularly well through the recurring mouse motif, which reaches its symbolic climax in the chapter Morte del Topo ("Death of the Mouse"). The motif suggests the necessity of shedding old identities and defence mechanisms, illustrating that genuine growth often begins only when the self shaped by trauma is allowed to die so that a more authentic self can emerge.
One of the most moving aspects of the novel was the way Matt's presence continued to haunt the narrative, even in his absence. His story lingers over Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer, shaping their memories, choices, and unresolved grief. I was deeply satisfied that the novel gave Matt's storyline a genuine sense of closure rather than leaving him as a permanent ghost of the past. That resolution felt both earned and compassionate, symbolising not only peace for Matt's memory but also a kind of rebirth for Charlie, Zeke and Hammer, who are finally able to carry the past without being defined by it. It was a fitting conclusion to a novel that is ultimately about healing, authenticity, and the courage to embrace a new life after trauma.
Few novels have affected me as deeply as Yeah the Boys. It emotionally wrecked me in the best possible way, leaving me reflecting on its characters and themes long after I had finished the final page. I confess that parts of it I found triggered certain things from my own life and friendships, but ultimately forced me to confront those more closely than I had.
Holden Sheppard has written a moving, compassionate, and profoundly human novel that I can not recommend highly enough.
July 20, 2026
Yeah The Boys by Holden Sheppard (audiobook narrated by Nic English)
☀️☀️☀️⛅ (3.5 rounded down)
This follow up to Sheppard's impactful 'Invisible Boys' shows how Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer transitioned into adulthood. Raunchy, bold, and unapologetically queer, this book ticks a lot of boxes, but did unexpectedly stumble at a few hurdles along the way.
The realities of living in Perth after escaping small town life are varied for the three characters, but they're united in not quite finding the happiness or stability they hoped for. In typical fashion, this sequel is highly sexual and masculine but also deeply emotional and tender. These are topics Sheppard handled well in Invisible Boys, and although I still enjoyed the sequel, there were some departures from the original in both characterisation and theme that left me a bit underwhelmed.
The arcs for both Charlie and Hammer are spot on in relation to their finishing off points last time, but Zeke's felt clumsy in comparison. The people-pleasing and academic mask he wears had potential to be really impactful when it fell apart, but in that process of this breakdown he crosses a significant line with multiple supporting characters that redefines his boundaries beyond what we're led to believe are morally acceptable, one of which is never addressed or resolved.
Nic English's delivery is clear and distinct between the characters which made the listening experience great.
Sheppard provides much needed representation for those who often lack it - very blokey, sexual, masculine gay men - but this appears to be done at the expense of more feminine and camp men by painting a very stereotypical villain of Xander. If he'd been offered a redemption arc it would have absolutely been salvageable, but in the end he is punished for an equally troublesome relationship to queerness, identity, labels, and activism that is heroed in more masc characters.
This book tackles important issues like queer-only spaces, and what being a 'good' gay looks like, but with less nuance than I hoped for. Some of the 'messages' are written like they exist above the characters themselves rather than being directly relevant to their experiences, or were otherwise shoehorned in for the sake of making the argument.
This book and its predecessor are undoubtedly important ones, and are (very importantly) not written for me, so my perspectives on this are less relevant than others, but I had high hopes for Sheppard's ability to navigate the complex waters and he only partially succeeded. It's still an enjoyable read for the most part, and most characters get satisfactory endings, so that's worth something, but I can't say I love this anywhere near as much as Invisible Boys.
"I swear, Hammer could murder Bluey in broad daylight, and everyone would mumble that, yes, on one hand, he's a killer, and she was a beloved cartoon puppy, but on the other, he's a gun full forward. Two bags of sand that weigh the same on the scales of justice in this country. You can be a dick to the power of infinity, but if you're good at footy, that's all that matters."
"I am drunk enough to feel euphoric, and sober enough to know this is how life is supposed to be. You are meant to be surrounded by people who accept you. If you don't get it from your family, you have to find it somewhere else."
☀️☀️☀️⛅ (3.5 rounded down)
This follow up to Sheppard's impactful 'Invisible Boys' shows how Charlie, Zeke, and Hammer transitioned into adulthood. Raunchy, bold, and unapologetically queer, this book ticks a lot of boxes, but did unexpectedly stumble at a few hurdles along the way.
The realities of living in Perth after escaping small town life are varied for the three characters, but they're united in not quite finding the happiness or stability they hoped for. In typical fashion, this sequel is highly sexual and masculine but also deeply emotional and tender. These are topics Sheppard handled well in Invisible Boys, and although I still enjoyed the sequel, there were some departures from the original in both characterisation and theme that left me a bit underwhelmed.
The arcs for both Charlie and Hammer are spot on in relation to their finishing off points last time, but Zeke's felt clumsy in comparison. The people-pleasing and academic mask he wears had potential to be really impactful when it fell apart, but in that process of this breakdown he crosses a significant line with multiple supporting characters that redefines his boundaries beyond what we're led to believe are morally acceptable, one of which is never addressed or resolved.
Nic English's delivery is clear and distinct between the characters which made the listening experience great.
Sheppard provides much needed representation for those who often lack it - very blokey, sexual, masculine gay men - but this appears to be done at the expense of more feminine and camp men by painting a very stereotypical villain of Xander. If he'd been offered a redemption arc it would have absolutely been salvageable, but in the end he is punished for an equally troublesome relationship to queerness, identity, labels, and activism that is heroed in more masc characters.
This book tackles important issues like queer-only spaces, and what being a 'good' gay looks like, but with less nuance than I hoped for. Some of the 'messages' are written like they exist above the characters themselves rather than being directly relevant to their experiences, or were otherwise shoehorned in for the sake of making the argument.
This book and its predecessor are undoubtedly important ones, and are (very importantly) not written for me, so my perspectives on this are less relevant than others, but I had high hopes for Sheppard's ability to navigate the complex waters and he only partially succeeded. It's still an enjoyable read for the most part, and most characters get satisfactory endings, so that's worth something, but I can't say I love this anywhere near as much as Invisible Boys.
"I swear, Hammer could murder Bluey in broad daylight, and everyone would mumble that, yes, on one hand, he's a killer, and she was a beloved cartoon puppy, but on the other, he's a gun full forward. Two bags of sand that weigh the same on the scales of justice in this country. You can be a dick to the power of infinity, but if you're good at footy, that's all that matters."
"I am drunk enough to feel euphoric, and sober enough to know this is how life is supposed to be. You are meant to be surrounded by people who accept you. If you don't get it from your family, you have to find it somewhere else."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 9, 2026
“If I could’ve been I would’ve been your roof forever”
Off the bat Yeah the Boys was not what I was expecting. In the best way possible. But to be honest I also didn’t know what to expect from the boys after all these years.
Of all the boys, the biggest surprise to me was Zeke. But then again as they say it is the quiet ones you need to watch out for 😉
His path is the wildest of the lot, and at times painful to read because you just feel everything he is trying to hide and manage.
Hammer was less of a surprise, his story plays out exactly how you would think. Mostly.
And as for Charlie, man, poor Charlie. He tries, and you want him to get that happily ever after he desperately seeks, but that baggage is holding him down 💔
I throughly enjoyed the other characters from the Sheppardverse (is he? 😂🥁) making their appearances, having their own parts of this story. Seeing the life Jack and Brick made for themselves, how Bray and Mason carry the events of The Brink with them still. But man Xander is the worst 😂 and we all know someone like Xander!
What I love about Holdens books is that they are unashamedly gay. But they stand out from the crowds because they have this grit to them, this roughness that is missing from so many stories about gay men. They tackle tough subjects, they bring in the emotions of loneliness, the tough journey that gay men go through to find acceptance in themselves, to meet that struggle of being a gay man while also fighting against the stereotypes that society wants to pin you to.
This book, for me, is angry, it’s punk, it’s definitely the adult version of Invisible Boys. And I loved it.
Off the bat Yeah the Boys was not what I was expecting. In the best way possible. But to be honest I also didn’t know what to expect from the boys after all these years.
Of all the boys, the biggest surprise to me was Zeke. But then again as they say it is the quiet ones you need to watch out for 😉
His path is the wildest of the lot, and at times painful to read because you just feel everything he is trying to hide and manage.
Hammer was less of a surprise, his story plays out exactly how you would think. Mostly.
And as for Charlie, man, poor Charlie. He tries, and you want him to get that happily ever after he desperately seeks, but that baggage is holding him down 💔
I throughly enjoyed the other characters from the Sheppardverse (is he? 😂🥁) making their appearances, having their own parts of this story. Seeing the life Jack and Brick made for themselves, how Bray and Mason carry the events of The Brink with them still. But man Xander is the worst 😂 and we all know someone like Xander!
What I love about Holdens books is that they are unashamedly gay. But they stand out from the crowds because they have this grit to them, this roughness that is missing from so many stories about gay men. They tackle tough subjects, they bring in the emotions of loneliness, the tough journey that gay men go through to find acceptance in themselves, to meet that struggle of being a gay man while also fighting against the stereotypes that society wants to pin you to.
This book, for me, is angry, it’s punk, it’s definitely the adult version of Invisible Boys. And I loved it.
May 7, 2026
Big thanks to Pantera Press for sending us a copy to read and review.
Sometimes a book will resonate and perforate into a more personal sphere, whether it be a theme, a historical time or event or an experience that triggers this.
In this instance the journey of coming out and accepting sexuality and ultimately embracing natural urges and lifestyles is on point and very relatable. A gritty and emotional update on the lives of Zeke and Charlie ensues.
The guys have been living separately in Perth after leaving their hometown of Geraldton.
A chance encounter at a sauna sparks a reunion that cements the next phase of their journey.
Hammer is now an AFL star and repels any notion of his own truth.
Like many in denial he sparks outrage by making public homophobic remarks. Threatening private messages to out him play havoc as well.
The Gero trio indulge in debauchery, conflict, acceptance and are all haunted by a past that they don’t want repeated.
Finding their own safe spaces, their people and owning who they are play out dramatically and emotionally in a world where bigotry is still rife.
Absolutely loved catching up with the lads as they age and experience new stages of their lives as gay men.
A cross reference to Jack from King of Dirt was also a pleasant surprise.
A nostalgic story for me both in experience and place.
Sometimes a book will resonate and perforate into a more personal sphere, whether it be a theme, a historical time or event or an experience that triggers this.
In this instance the journey of coming out and accepting sexuality and ultimately embracing natural urges and lifestyles is on point and very relatable. A gritty and emotional update on the lives of Zeke and Charlie ensues.
The guys have been living separately in Perth after leaving their hometown of Geraldton.
A chance encounter at a sauna sparks a reunion that cements the next phase of their journey.
Hammer is now an AFL star and repels any notion of his own truth.
Like many in denial he sparks outrage by making public homophobic remarks. Threatening private messages to out him play havoc as well.
The Gero trio indulge in debauchery, conflict, acceptance and are all haunted by a past that they don’t want repeated.
Finding their own safe spaces, their people and owning who they are play out dramatically and emotionally in a world where bigotry is still rife.
Absolutely loved catching up with the lads as they age and experience new stages of their lives as gay men.
A cross reference to Jack from King of Dirt was also a pleasant surprise.
A nostalgic story for me both in experience and place.
August 1, 2026
Very much a niche novel, but an excellent read and end to the "Sheppardverse" (see acknowledgements) of four books.
I say a niche book, as the topic, themes and some of the language will be confronting to many readers: And the exacting, particular description of the Perth geography as an important part of the visualisation (but not so much the content of the story itself) will be distracting for many. Being familiar with the area, I know what "living in a shoebox, beneath a bridge in Midland" would mean, but most would not, even though all people would recognise a place in their own locale that would fit the bill.
I was intrigued that the author (see acknowledgements) conceived of this story first and sees it as a chronological prequel to his other works, which are very important in the understanding of the character backgrounds of many of the significant protagonists of this book; if not essential.
It was very refreshing to read a point of view that the various tribes of society may have differences and similarities of human needs that are to be recognised and appreciated (or at least tolerated), not judged and assumed by cultural or political factions. Left vs right politics, wokeism and cancel culture are unfortunate norms in our growingly connected world. However, it is that very heart felt rejoicing of the life choices of individuals within a minor section in society that will offend many seeking greater homogenisation within society, making this very much a niche novel.
I say a niche book, as the topic, themes and some of the language will be confronting to many readers: And the exacting, particular description of the Perth geography as an important part of the visualisation (but not so much the content of the story itself) will be distracting for many. Being familiar with the area, I know what "living in a shoebox, beneath a bridge in Midland" would mean, but most would not, even though all people would recognise a place in their own locale that would fit the bill.
I was intrigued that the author (see acknowledgements) conceived of this story first and sees it as a chronological prequel to his other works, which are very important in the understanding of the character backgrounds of many of the significant protagonists of this book; if not essential.
It was very refreshing to read a point of view that the various tribes of society may have differences and similarities of human needs that are to be recognised and appreciated (or at least tolerated), not judged and assumed by cultural or political factions. Left vs right politics, wokeism and cancel culture are unfortunate norms in our growingly connected world. However, it is that very heart felt rejoicing of the life choices of individuals within a minor section in society that will offend many seeking greater homogenisation within society, making this very much a niche novel.
June 14, 2026
Yeah the Boys is the brilliant follow-up to the award winning novel Invisible Boys. I came late to Invisible Boys, only reading it last year, but it’s a book I have not stopped thinking about. With such big shoes to fill, I have to admit to being a teensy bit worried about how Yeah the Boys would compare, but I need not have worried. Yeah the Boys was a gripping five star read, that I burned through in a day.
Set seven years after the events of Invisible Boys, we are back with Charlie, Zeke and Hammer. A lot has changed, but there are plenty of things that haven’t. This is the story of them finding their way back to each other and discovering their own ways to become men.
It’s a raw and heartbreaking story that doesn’t shy away from the tough stuff. I love the way Holden shows readers the realities of being a gay man in all its gritty reality. Having chapters from the POV of all three of these boys/men was such a great contrast that kept me reading with a knot in my stomach, so worried that things were going to end badly. I loved all three of these characters equally and enjoyed catching up with their stories and seeing how their pasts growing up in Geraldton were still affecting them all.
Even though there is a lot of heartbreak in this story, there is also plenty of hope and humour too. I adored new characters Curtis and Ahmed and their protectiveness of these lost boys and some of my favourite scenes were set in their welcoming home.
Yeah the Boys was the sequel I never knew I needed, but I’m so glad we got it. Interestingly, this story was actually written before Invisible Boys, but they fit together perfectly.
Set seven years after the events of Invisible Boys, we are back with Charlie, Zeke and Hammer. A lot has changed, but there are plenty of things that haven’t. This is the story of them finding their way back to each other and discovering their own ways to become men.
It’s a raw and heartbreaking story that doesn’t shy away from the tough stuff. I love the way Holden shows readers the realities of being a gay man in all its gritty reality. Having chapters from the POV of all three of these boys/men was such a great contrast that kept me reading with a knot in my stomach, so worried that things were going to end badly. I loved all three of these characters equally and enjoyed catching up with their stories and seeing how their pasts growing up in Geraldton were still affecting them all.
Even though there is a lot of heartbreak in this story, there is also plenty of hope and humour too. I adored new characters Curtis and Ahmed and their protectiveness of these lost boys and some of my favourite scenes were set in their welcoming home.
Yeah the Boys was the sequel I never knew I needed, but I’m so glad we got it. Interestingly, this story was actually written before Invisible Boys, but they fit together perfectly.
July 15, 2026
3.5 stars from me (why can't Goodreads do half stars?). I was really looking forward to reading more of Charlie, Zeke and Hammer's lives but found parts of this difficult to read. This book tackles really important issues and Holden Sheppard is very honest with his writing but one of the antagonists is a bit cartoonishly villainous which lets the book down. Despite wanting to break stereotypes of gay men, many of the characters feel stereotypical of loutish hard-drinking, big ute-driving bogans. I guess I'm not the target audience.
Zeke was the character I was most sympathetic to and I liked his journey the most. I hope Charlie's musical success grows (he feels like such a real person to me, as do Zeke and Hammer). Hammer was so unlikeable at times and I was infuriated but also sympathetic to him. If there's a Hammer out there in the AFL (or any sporting league), I wish him all the best with his journey.
Zeke was the character I was most sympathetic to and I liked his journey the most. I hope Charlie's musical success grows (he feels like such a real person to me, as do Zeke and Hammer). Hammer was so unlikeable at times and I was infuriated but also sympathetic to him. If there's a Hammer out there in the AFL (or any sporting league), I wish him all the best with his journey.
May 24, 2026
Excellent book and this reaffirms why Holden Sheppard is my favourite author and that his books are so underrated! I loved the characters (Hammer most of all, his POV was the most compelling), I adored how he has characters from his other book show up, I am obsessed with it all. Xander was a good villain; he felt realistic. Wokeism isn't bad but it can get taken too far. You can't always be a victim. Hammer and Zeke's ending was satisfying; they're no Romeo and Juliet and so it made sense for them. I'm just happy that Hammer's story concludes well; he deserved the final chapter. So many interesting takes and dilemmas. I originally started this as a train book but it was so good it migrated to home book. I find that most sequels fail to justify their existence but this is better than the first book.
June 10, 2026
This book was an easy read that still left me sobbing, I was gripped.
What struck me most was Hammer’s character development and the parallels drawn with him and Matt, so incredibly devastating. I was left overthinking about all the people in my life who are like those two. I remember my first ‘Matt’. The final pages of Matt’s letters shattered me, it made me feel really raw and exposed, almost if I was reading something i shouldn’t have? Maybe too close to home ?
Charlie’s character was still very authentic to the show, he’s so loveable. I also enjoyed seeing how much Zeke had grown.
I did enjoy the “bro” sorta nature of this book and grasp the importance of having more masculine gay voices and stories told. I wish that could be done without the subtle undertones of misogyny though (my reason for one less star).
What struck me most was Hammer’s character development and the parallels drawn with him and Matt, so incredibly devastating. I was left overthinking about all the people in my life who are like those two. I remember my first ‘Matt’. The final pages of Matt’s letters shattered me, it made me feel really raw and exposed, almost if I was reading something i shouldn’t have? Maybe too close to home ?
Charlie’s character was still very authentic to the show, he’s so loveable. I also enjoyed seeing how much Zeke had grown.
I did enjoy the “bro” sorta nature of this book and grasp the importance of having more masculine gay voices and stories told. I wish that could be done without the subtle undertones of misogyny though (my reason for one less star).
May 31, 2026
It took me a little while to get into Yeah The Boys, but once I did, I couldn't put it down. The first half felt a little slow and lacked tension to keep me turning the page. However, I'm glad I stuck with it because the second half delivers in a big way. As the story unfolds, the characters become more layered, the stakes rise, and the emotional weight of the novel really hits home. A beautiful continuation of Charlie, Zeke and Hammer's story!
May 4, 2026
I had hoped this would be as good as Invisible Boys, but my first thought after putting it down is that it surpassed it and made me love the characters more. I cannot articulate properly how much I love Holden’s writing, and how much I appreciate the effort that goes in to ensuring the story never becomes predictable and that the characters are given space to screw up and make mistakes.
June 27, 2026
I very much enjoyed this follow up to Invisible Boys - it had all the trademark features of Sheppard’s writing: raw, gritty, honest and compelling. Fans of Christos Tsolkias would thoroughly enjoy this author - worth 3.5 stars
May 22, 2026
Ok I think I ticked the spoiler on
The first book had me like 'damn' but left me rooting for Zeke and Charlie and had me excited to see what was next for them.
This book Im glad it's over
It was worth the wait, but still parts of it ticked me off and not in a good way.
Zeke turned out to be my least favourite character, maybe because we are similar. I had high hopes for his independence which he got but it felt frustrating. His parents comeuppance was strong and faltered midway to a 'well you can't stay made at family cause it's family'. I get it but doesn't mean I like it.
Then to kill off the one least problematic character who is a POC at that, one of three in the book who where pivitol, Zeke could've went to be honest. I understand Holden's choices, and you write the stuff you want to read.
I just couldn't tell what was self inserted preaching and what was character perspective maybe a bit of both. Referring to acceptance as woke even by queer people came off as white privilege gay man, because everyone in this world of the book seemed to just be heavy with the slurs, and making a point of gay is strictly masculine. And it came off like the inclusion of people of colour was added because it was either pointed out to Holden that his firstbook lacked diversity or the show did a better job of having a more diverse world that's how it hit me; maybe I'm just a lite version of Xander. His character I wanted to see crash out because he was terrible, yet he was flamboyant, another coding thing happening there.
Those gripes that I could go into greater detail is why a star is gone.
The book is well written and engaging and flows smoothly and deserves a read.
The first book had me like 'damn' but left me rooting for Zeke and Charlie and had me excited to see what was next for them.
This book Im glad it's over
It was worth the wait, but still parts of it ticked me off and not in a good way.
Zeke turned out to be my least favourite character, maybe because we are similar. I had high hopes for his independence which he got but it felt frustrating. His parents comeuppance was strong and faltered midway to a 'well you can't stay made at family cause it's family'. I get it but doesn't mean I like it.
Then to kill off the one least problematic character who is a POC at that, one of three in the book who where pivitol, Zeke could've went to be honest. I understand Holden's choices, and you write the stuff you want to read.
I just couldn't tell what was self inserted preaching and what was character perspective maybe a bit of both. Referring to acceptance as woke even by queer people came off as white privilege gay man, because everyone in this world of the book seemed to just be heavy with the slurs, and making a point of gay is strictly masculine. And it came off like the inclusion of people of colour was added because it was either pointed out to Holden that his firstbook lacked diversity or the show did a better job of having a more diverse world that's how it hit me; maybe I'm just a lite version of Xander. His character I wanted to see crash out because he was terrible, yet he was flamboyant, another coding thing happening there.
Those gripes that I could go into greater detail is why a star is gone.
The book is well written and engaging and flows smoothly and deserves a read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 12, 2026
This book is so important. It represents a very invisible percentage of the gay men community; those of us who don't fit into the neat little stereotypes. It feels real, and deep, and incredibly hot and horny. The Perth mentions are amazing; from Scarborough Beach to Kings Park to ECU to Charlies. This book is really something special, and I implore every gay man I know to read this; I'm sure you'll walk away hugging it tightly to your chest like I did. There's nothing better than gay camaraderie, and I am so grateful to my fellow gay men who have become like a family to me. Yeah the fucking boys!
May 18, 2026
I loved this book so much I couldn't put it down. All the boys are back and it's bigger than before. Seeing the characters grow so much and their experiences of being gay men is inspirational.
July 24, 2026
I have a lot of conflicting thoughts about YTB. It’s great to see a story about gay men so unfiltered, but I feel it’s written for a very niche Western Australian queer audience. The amount of Perth suburb name dropping and Australian bogan slang was crazy and made it harder for me to engage.
There’s lots of commentary in YTB about “wokeism” yadda yadda. To me, this could’ve been fleshed out better rather than using Xander as a vehicle/icon and demonising his queerness. The relentless attacking of the pride flag was also a bit weird? In the end I felt that we were being told exactly what Xander was preaching, if you’re not with this idea of masculine gay energy, then you’re problematic.
The book also felt a bit “YA” prose-wise, but is obviously not due to the gratuitous imagery. That juxtaposition was a bit to get around.
I loved Invisible Boys, as a gay man from the country myself. YTB is the evolution of those stories, to which I simply didn’t gel with, but I’m sure many other gay men will.
There’s lots of commentary in YTB about “wokeism” yadda yadda. To me, this could’ve been fleshed out better rather than using Xander as a vehicle/icon and demonising his queerness. The relentless attacking of the pride flag was also a bit weird? In the end I felt that we were being told exactly what Xander was preaching, if you’re not with this idea of masculine gay energy, then you’re problematic.
The book also felt a bit “YA” prose-wise, but is obviously not due to the gratuitous imagery. That juxtaposition was a bit to get around.
I loved Invisible Boys, as a gay man from the country myself. YTB is the evolution of those stories, to which I simply didn’t gel with, but I’m sure many other gay men will.
July 20, 2026
An easy and engaging read that continues the stories of Charlie, Zeke and Hammer, first begun in Invisible Boys. Sheppard continues his exploration of gay male identity and masculinity, portraying the lives and experiences of men who have come of age in regional Western Australia. men deeply shaped by sporting culture, rural masculinity, and internalised homophobia.
One of the book’s strengths is its representation of a group of gay men who are arguably less visible in mainstream queer culture. Gay men are often portrayed through a relatively narrow set of stereotypes: camp, theatrical, fashion-conscious, urban, and immersed in contemporary queer culture. Therefore I can appreciate a genuine need for stories about rural and regional gay men who don’t necessarily see themselves reflected in those portrayals. Men who would rather spend their weekends playing footy, working on cars, or having a beer at the pub than attending a Pride parade or watching Ru Paul’s drag race.
Where the book lost me somewhat was in its treatment of masculinity. While I understand the authors imperative of representing “masculine” gay men, I often felt the novel was doing more than that. It seemed less interested in exploring different forms of masculinity than in celebrating a very particular type. A version of masculinity it seems to me typically associated with heterosexual males. The footy-playing, beer-drinking, tradie “bloke” is often positioned as the standard against which other expressions of gay identity are measured, while campness, Pride symbolism, and more visibly queer forms of self-expression are treated more dismissively.
At times, the message felt less like “there are many ways to be a gay man” and more like “it’s okay to be gay so long as you’re still a real man.” One moment that crystallised this for me was Hammer’s insistence that although he is gay, he is still a “real bloke.” Perhaps this wasn’t the author’s intention, and I may be reading more into it than was intended. I understand not identifying with certain expressions of contemporary gay culture, and there is value in giving voice to that experience. What sat uneasily with me was the subtle implication that only a certain type of “masculinity”redeems gayness, or that being a more “feminine” gay man is somehow lesser.
A camp gay man who performs drag, works in fashion, or hates sports is no less a man than a beer-drinking, cowboy hat-wearing, footy player/ trucker/ tradie, and I wasn’t always convinced the novel fully embraced that idea.
Despite those reservations, I found it compelling enough and obviously thought-provoking, particularly for the conversations it raises about masculinity. As a fan of Invisible Boys, It was also nonetheless interesting to see how these characters developed. Even if I was somewhat disappointed by that direction
One of the book’s strengths is its representation of a group of gay men who are arguably less visible in mainstream queer culture. Gay men are often portrayed through a relatively narrow set of stereotypes: camp, theatrical, fashion-conscious, urban, and immersed in contemporary queer culture. Therefore I can appreciate a genuine need for stories about rural and regional gay men who don’t necessarily see themselves reflected in those portrayals. Men who would rather spend their weekends playing footy, working on cars, or having a beer at the pub than attending a Pride parade or watching Ru Paul’s drag race.
Where the book lost me somewhat was in its treatment of masculinity. While I understand the authors imperative of representing “masculine” gay men, I often felt the novel was doing more than that. It seemed less interested in exploring different forms of masculinity than in celebrating a very particular type. A version of masculinity it seems to me typically associated with heterosexual males. The footy-playing, beer-drinking, tradie “bloke” is often positioned as the standard against which other expressions of gay identity are measured, while campness, Pride symbolism, and more visibly queer forms of self-expression are treated more dismissively.
At times, the message felt less like “there are many ways to be a gay man” and more like “it’s okay to be gay so long as you’re still a real man.” One moment that crystallised this for me was Hammer’s insistence that although he is gay, he is still a “real bloke.” Perhaps this wasn’t the author’s intention, and I may be reading more into it than was intended. I understand not identifying with certain expressions of contemporary gay culture, and there is value in giving voice to that experience. What sat uneasily with me was the subtle implication that only a certain type of “masculinity”redeems gayness, or that being a more “feminine” gay man is somehow lesser.
A camp gay man who performs drag, works in fashion, or hates sports is no less a man than a beer-drinking, cowboy hat-wearing, footy player/ trucker/ tradie, and I wasn’t always convinced the novel fully embraced that idea.
Despite those reservations, I found it compelling enough and obviously thought-provoking, particularly for the conversations it raises about masculinity. As a fan of Invisible Boys, It was also nonetheless interesting to see how these characters developed. Even if I was somewhat disappointed by that direction
May 6, 2026
YTB is raw, confronting, funny, heartbreaking, and deeply Australian. It captures a version of queer identity that is so often ignored in literature: the queer bloke trying to survive masculinity, mateship, loneliness, desire, shame, and self-worth in a culture that still polices what men are allowed to be.
What makes this novel powerful is that each character represents a different facet of queer identity. Through them, Sheppard explores our insecurities, our pride, our fears, and our hopes. Some characters are loud and unapologetic, others are closeted, confused, self-destructive, or searching for connection. Together, they create a portrait of queer life that feels honest rather than sanitised. These are not polished, idealised representations built to make straight audiences comfortable. They are messy, vulnerable, sexual, lonely, affectionate, defensive, and real.
Sheppard is unapologetic in the way he writes about what it means to be a queer man in modern Australia. There are no bells and whistles here, no carefully curated version of queerness designed around corporate Pride campaigns or respectability politics. Instead, he writes about queer men as they actually exist — flawed, horny, scared, loving, confused, tender, and resilient. The novel is sex positive in a way that feels liberating rather than performative. It challenges the narrow roles queer men are often forced into, both by mainstream society and sometimes within queer spaces themselves.
There is also something uniquely Australian about Yeah the Boys. The language, humour, emotional repression, blokey culture, and landscape all feel authentic. Sheppard understands the tension many queer Australian men grow up with: wanting connection while also trying to survive environments that teach vulnerability is weakness. That emotional contradiction runs through the entire novel.
Most importantly, Yeah the Boys creates space. Space for queer men who grew up in small towns. Space for queer men who do not fit neat stereotypes. Space for desire, confusion, shame, pride, and growth. Holden Sheppard has contributed something important to modern Australian literature by refusing to dilute these experiences. His writing says clearly: queer blokes exist here too, and our stories deserve to be told in all their complexity.
Thank you, Holden Sheppard, for creating that space.
What makes this novel powerful is that each character represents a different facet of queer identity. Through them, Sheppard explores our insecurities, our pride, our fears, and our hopes. Some characters are loud and unapologetic, others are closeted, confused, self-destructive, or searching for connection. Together, they create a portrait of queer life that feels honest rather than sanitised. These are not polished, idealised representations built to make straight audiences comfortable. They are messy, vulnerable, sexual, lonely, affectionate, defensive, and real.
Sheppard is unapologetic in the way he writes about what it means to be a queer man in modern Australia. There are no bells and whistles here, no carefully curated version of queerness designed around corporate Pride campaigns or respectability politics. Instead, he writes about queer men as they actually exist — flawed, horny, scared, loving, confused, tender, and resilient. The novel is sex positive in a way that feels liberating rather than performative. It challenges the narrow roles queer men are often forced into, both by mainstream society and sometimes within queer spaces themselves.
There is also something uniquely Australian about Yeah the Boys. The language, humour, emotional repression, blokey culture, and landscape all feel authentic. Sheppard understands the tension many queer Australian men grow up with: wanting connection while also trying to survive environments that teach vulnerability is weakness. That emotional contradiction runs through the entire novel.
Most importantly, Yeah the Boys creates space. Space for queer men who grew up in small towns. Space for queer men who do not fit neat stereotypes. Space for desire, confusion, shame, pride, and growth. Holden Sheppard has contributed something important to modern Australian literature by refusing to dilute these experiences. His writing says clearly: queer blokes exist here too, and our stories deserve to be told in all their complexity.
Thank you, Holden Sheppard, for creating that space.
June 28, 2026
YEAH THE BOYS (Pantera Press 2026) is author Holden Sheppard’s much anticipated sequel to his award-winning novel INVISIBLE BOYS, and while you can definitely read this one as a standalone, your experience will be much richer if you’ve read INVISIBLE BOYS first. Same characters, similar setting, but about seven years on. Sheppard’s writing is immersive, gritty, shocking, tender, surprising and warm, and as he traverses the issues he loves to write about – queerness, gay men, what it is to be any kind of man, masculine toxicity, queer allies, being in the closet, coming out, families, friendships and of course, footy – he does so through the eyes of young men struggling to find their place in the world, or even to find their own self-identity.
In the previous novel, the boys were adolescents but in YEAH THE BOYS they have reached their youthful twenties. Zeke, Hammer and Charlie are no longer the tight-knit group they used to be; a devastating tragedy in the preceding book changed everything. But in this book, they are united through a series of coincidences and happenstances (which are not so coincidental when you consider the setting is mostly Geraldton and Perth in Western Australia, a relatively small community).
Zeke continues his ongoing fractious relationship with his proud Italian family, remaining closeted, conventional and unadventurous so as to not bring shame upon those he loves. But as the story develops, he becomes increasingly prickly about these restrictions and when he takes the monumental step of joining a gay footy club, he hopes it will be the welcoming space he’s been searching for. He’s never played football before but this is a club where mateship and inclusion are more important than ball skills.
Hammer has continued his journey as a rising football star with the AFL, a real man’s man on the outside, but inside, still carrying his anxieties and fears about being gay himself. When his club embraces diversity in the most out pride way possible, he speaks against it, worrying he might be outed himself in the process. It’s all too close to home. Speaking up creates a nightmare, not only for him but for all those around him.
Charlie has never quite made his mark as a punk musician, but not for lack of trying. When he joins the bar staff (and shares their home) of his new friends Curtis and Ahmed, he starts to understand the concept of family and inclusion that’s always eluded him, and he begins to heal from his trauma.
The boys are back, but now as young men. Some things are forever the same and some are irreparably different. They each said and did things seven years ago that hurt the others, some they regret, some they stand by. Research shows boys’ brains don’t fully develop until their late twenties though (so I’ve read) and it’s clear that although the boys are older and perhaps wiser, they are by no means wise, fully formed or put together. Each struggles still with self-identity, ambition, relationships, and most of all their sexual desires and needs.
Sheppard’s writing is bold, visceral, no-holds-barred. He speaks with authority and personal experience on a range of issues in a very intimate and authentic way. Some of these issues (like…ahem…footy or utes) may not be issues that resonate with me personally, but that doesn’t detract from the allure of the narrative and the delicate and complex web of relationships he constructs. His writing is explicit, which might be a challenge for some readers, but for others – especially those queer-curious – it will be reaffirming.
Several minor characters appear with distinct gusto. I especially loved Curtis and Ahmed and their loving, accepting but also tough and resilient marriage and their open-armed encouragement of younger gay men. Their ambition in building their bar as an inclusive venue is a triumph but comes with significant challenges from unexpected quarters.
There’s a lot of sex in this book, and it’s hot, heavy, raunchy and unapologetic. But Sheppard interweaves this with warm friendships, tender moments, shy and awkward missteps, regret and yearning. Massive betrayals and unforgettable forgiveness punctuate the story. Sheppard prides himself (I think) in writing about the gay community in a non-homogenous way. Every gay is a different kind of gay, and that’s okay, and to be expected. Readers who have certain ideas about what a gay man looks like, how he acts or dresses or speaks, his hobbies or passions, will have their assertions challenged. Because, in the end, a person is a person, and whether they are gay, or a footy lover, or a car enthusiastic, or a knitter or a musician or a nerd or a politician or an influencer or a family man or a player or any combination makes no difference. Underneath it all, each is a person with needs, desires, hopes, dramas, bad experiences and dreams.
When I read INVISIBLE BOYS I wanted to mother these teenagers, these clumsy, bounding, unsure, passionate children. Now they are young adults, I still want to mother them. They are still growing, still learning, still finding their way. It is a joy to see this aspect and stage of their lives. I’d love Sheppard to write another sequel in seven years’ time to see where they are at aged thirty. These boys, despite or because of their flaws, will capture your heartstrings. And if you are a gay man, this book will resonate, because it is bound to include at least one character in similar circumstances (either physically, mentally or emotionally) to you or someone you know.
In the previous novel, the boys were adolescents but in YEAH THE BOYS they have reached their youthful twenties. Zeke, Hammer and Charlie are no longer the tight-knit group they used to be; a devastating tragedy in the preceding book changed everything. But in this book, they are united through a series of coincidences and happenstances (which are not so coincidental when you consider the setting is mostly Geraldton and Perth in Western Australia, a relatively small community).
Zeke continues his ongoing fractious relationship with his proud Italian family, remaining closeted, conventional and unadventurous so as to not bring shame upon those he loves. But as the story develops, he becomes increasingly prickly about these restrictions and when he takes the monumental step of joining a gay footy club, he hopes it will be the welcoming space he’s been searching for. He’s never played football before but this is a club where mateship and inclusion are more important than ball skills.
Hammer has continued his journey as a rising football star with the AFL, a real man’s man on the outside, but inside, still carrying his anxieties and fears about being gay himself. When his club embraces diversity in the most out pride way possible, he speaks against it, worrying he might be outed himself in the process. It’s all too close to home. Speaking up creates a nightmare, not only for him but for all those around him.
Charlie has never quite made his mark as a punk musician, but not for lack of trying. When he joins the bar staff (and shares their home) of his new friends Curtis and Ahmed, he starts to understand the concept of family and inclusion that’s always eluded him, and he begins to heal from his trauma.
The boys are back, but now as young men. Some things are forever the same and some are irreparably different. They each said and did things seven years ago that hurt the others, some they regret, some they stand by. Research shows boys’ brains don’t fully develop until their late twenties though (so I’ve read) and it’s clear that although the boys are older and perhaps wiser, they are by no means wise, fully formed or put together. Each struggles still with self-identity, ambition, relationships, and most of all their sexual desires and needs.
Sheppard’s writing is bold, visceral, no-holds-barred. He speaks with authority and personal experience on a range of issues in a very intimate and authentic way. Some of these issues (like…ahem…footy or utes) may not be issues that resonate with me personally, but that doesn’t detract from the allure of the narrative and the delicate and complex web of relationships he constructs. His writing is explicit, which might be a challenge for some readers, but for others – especially those queer-curious – it will be reaffirming.
Several minor characters appear with distinct gusto. I especially loved Curtis and Ahmed and their loving, accepting but also tough and resilient marriage and their open-armed encouragement of younger gay men. Their ambition in building their bar as an inclusive venue is a triumph but comes with significant challenges from unexpected quarters.
There’s a lot of sex in this book, and it’s hot, heavy, raunchy and unapologetic. But Sheppard interweaves this with warm friendships, tender moments, shy and awkward missteps, regret and yearning. Massive betrayals and unforgettable forgiveness punctuate the story. Sheppard prides himself (I think) in writing about the gay community in a non-homogenous way. Every gay is a different kind of gay, and that’s okay, and to be expected. Readers who have certain ideas about what a gay man looks like, how he acts or dresses or speaks, his hobbies or passions, will have their assertions challenged. Because, in the end, a person is a person, and whether they are gay, or a footy lover, or a car enthusiastic, or a knitter or a musician or a nerd or a politician or an influencer or a family man or a player or any combination makes no difference. Underneath it all, each is a person with needs, desires, hopes, dramas, bad experiences and dreams.
When I read INVISIBLE BOYS I wanted to mother these teenagers, these clumsy, bounding, unsure, passionate children. Now they are young adults, I still want to mother them. They are still growing, still learning, still finding their way. It is a joy to see this aspect and stage of their lives. I’d love Sheppard to write another sequel in seven years’ time to see where they are at aged thirty. These boys, despite or because of their flaws, will capture your heartstrings. And if you are a gay man, this book will resonate, because it is bound to include at least one character in similar circumstances (either physically, mentally or emotionally) to you or someone you know.
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