At its heart, Real Aussies: John’s Heartbreak is a raw and emotionally intense dive into the life of John, a 24-year-old car salesman hustling through Sydney’s sun-soaked grit of the late ’70s. The story kicks off with John chasing the Australian dream—buying out the dealership he works for and giving his family a better future. But things unravel fast. There’s infidelity, identity struggles, explosive family drama, a deeply repressed past, and an unexpected romantic connection that challenges everything John thought he knew about himself. It’s set against a vivid Aussie backdrop of drag queens, classic Holdens, meat pies, and church pews. It’s heavy, hilarious, heartbreaking, and, at times, unhinged.

The dialogue snaps with authenticity, the slang hits just right, and the pacing is mad. One minute you’re laughing at a wild Monaro test drive, and the next you’re cringing through John’s brutal Sunday family lunch, dripping with micro-aggressions, classism, and suppressed rage. The scenes with his mum and Beergut Barry was spot on. Horribly accurate. You can feel the suffocation. That kitchen table tension isn’t just writing, it’s lived experience on the page.

But the emotional gut-punches land hard. The twist about John’s biological son genuinely winded me. And then, Jezbon goes further. That deeply disturbing assault scene with Peter was unexpected and so painfully real. It’s handled with unflinching honesty. It doesn’t glorify or overexplain, it just lets you sit in the horror of it. It messed me up a little. That’s powerful storytelling. Still, it’s not for the faint of heart. You have to be ready for it. But it shines a light on the complexity of male trauma, especially in a world that doesn’t give men like John the language or space to process it.

John is messy. He lashes out. He hits. He breaks. But Jezbon doesn’t romanticize it. He forces you to reckon with the choices people make when their lives implode. There’s nuance. There’s shame. There’s that desperate grasping for control when everything’s slipping. And then there’s hope, like a tiny stubborn weed growing through concrete. John’s care for his sons—especially Jason, his “little champ”—grounds all the chaos. The emotional rollercoaster is real, and I didn’t wanna get off.

If you like your stories emotionally charged, a little chaotic, and rough around the edges—this one’s for you. Especially if you’re into queer themes wrapped in raw masculinity, generational trauma, and the realest kind of love—the kind that’s flawed but refuses to give up. It’s not tidy. It’s not polished. It’s real. And that’s exactly what makes John’s Heartbreak stick. Jezbon wrote something that lingers.

Pages: 398 | ASIN : B0F3KDHH9R