Celebrating Hugh . . . Hero Material

One of the obligations of the romance novelist is having to ogle handsome men.

I think of it as a job requirement. How could I write about them if I didn't observe them closely? Learn what makes them tick? Study them in their natural habitat?

Some people watch birds, after all. More power to them, I say. Whatever turns them on.

Which brings me to Hugh. It's Hugh Jackman's birthday October 12th. It's time to celebrate. They've already celebrated him at the Pink Heart Society. Hugh was their first "Male on Monday" right after the site went live. If I hadn't already joined up, I would have. These women obviously have good taste.


Lucy Gordon introduced me to Hugh when we were writing Blood Brothers quite a few years ago. He was, at the time, starring in Oklahoma on stage in London. And she said, "You have to see Hugh Jackman playing Curly. He's brilliant." And I thought, yeah, right. An Aussie playing an Okie in England. Brilliant. Uh-huh. That'll work.

May God forgive me for doubting. It worked. He was brilliant. He was charismatic. He was gorgeous. He was talented. I was hooked.


When Kate Walker's son, who was working at Blockbuster in England at the time found an ex-rental copy of Paperback Hero, she sent it to me for Christmas. Best present I could have received. I fell in love.

After that I watched Erskineville Kings. I watched old Australian television programs. The joys of the multi-format video tape player are not to be dismissed. I was delighted when I heard he was going to be Wolverine in X-Men. Lots of people said, "Hugh Who?" Not me.

I saw every film he made. I wasn't thrilled by the script of Someone Like You. I thought some of the time traveling in Kate and Leopold was a little iffy. Van Helsing was not precisely my cup of tea. But Hugh was. You name it, if Hugh was in it, I watched it. I had it on tape. I have it on DVD. I can actually sit and watch the Tony Awards over and over just for Hugh. (Can you say, there is no hope?) All I can say is, I work very hard at my craft. No sacrifice too great.

But it isn't just the acting and the singing and the dancing and the intensity he puts into his roles -- or how good he looks in a tux -- or even a towel.

It's what a genuinely nice guy he seems to be. What a devoted married man he is. How much he dotes on his family. How determined he is to be a good father. I've never heard or read an interview in which he didn't spend at least some of the time talking about his wife and kids. In an industry where big egos are rampant, he's refreshingly not all about "me, me, me." Hero material, in other words.

When Kate Walker and I gave our talks in New Zealand and Australia two years ago, Hugh was our centerpiece. If we could have had him there in person, of course, it would have been perfect. But even in transparency form, he kept our listeners'
attention focused. They didn't dare drift off -- they might have missed a glimpse of Hugh-in-a-towel.

And if that's all they remember about what we said two years later, well, what is it they say about a picture being worth a thousand words?

If we gave them nothing but that memory of what a hero ought to be like, I still like to think we did what we set out to do.

Happy birthday, Hugh! And thank you!