Review by Frank Plowright

When the school rearranges its timetabling, Charlie Spring from Year 10 finds himself sitting next to Nick Nelson from Year 11 for some classes, a rugby player that under other circumstances wouldn’t work his way onto Charlie’s radar. Charlie has already been outed as gay, but gets conflicting signals from Nick. Is he just a nice guy, or is he also gay?

That’s the query occupying much of Heartstopper’s opening volume. Alice Oseman packs the pages with indecisive homoerotic moments, such as Nick teaching Charlie the fundamentals of rugby, which are so charming and frequent that when she arrives at equally well considered conflict it comes as a real surprise. Having introduced that, Oseman then briefly skips back a year to Charlie coming out as gay, perhaps more difficult in an all boys school.

The awkwardness of any teenager’s first real crush is well explored. Oseman pitches scenes around the possible interpretation of comments. Are they innocent enquiries, or indications of something more? It’s all handled with considerable dexterity, as the teen audience will be guessing along with Charlie, while anyone with greater experience of life will wonder why he can’t see what’s in front of him. Lovely small touches are frequent, such as Nick’s mother noting how he’s far mote natural around Charlie than he is with other friends. You can’t fool your mother!

Although Oseman’s art doesn’t resemble manga, the fast reading experience imitates Japanese comics, and like manga, backgrounds are minimal while posture and expressions tell much of the story. Oseman uses a deliberately sketchy style, perhaps intended to suggest an illustrated diary, but it’s expressively naturalistic. Little visual storytelling devices are notable, such as a series of progressively smaller panels closing out a scene or the forced intimacy of sharing a single drum stool.

Starting in January, Heartstopper Volume 1 progresses through a full school term. Under less capable hands the setbacks and indecision might transmit as contrived, but here they’re convincing teenage uncertainty propelling readers through the story. The crucial scene in the large empty hall was beautifully transferred to the TV show, and sets the scene for Volume 2.

Everything remains pretty innocent, so the adult designation comes from the few occasions of swearing that may have shocked in 1962, but now only offend those looking to take offence seemingly oblivious to most children hearing similar terms many times throughout the school day. Anyone not looking to take offence is likely to be rapidly charmed. The book ends with some endearing extras, including smart ID cards for the primary cast that will have many people looking up the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test.