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Sex and Money, Mark Dapin
Allen & Unwin
Reviewed by Alex Van Paassen (Courtesy of Taranaki Daily News)

There are ten immutable rules of magazine publishing. Rule number one: beautiful women sell magazines.

Mark Dapin moulded Ralph magazine from the bastard progeny of Australian magazine behemoth ACP into Australia's top-selling men's lifestyle magazine. Conceived in an attempt to compete with rowdy Brit immigrants – wildly successful lad-mags Loaded and FHM – Ralph was only ever a pet name for the homegrown baby. Unfortunately, ACP's top brass lost interest soon after it was born, and the name stuck – "like vomit dried onto porcelain".

British-born Dapin, who by the time he came on board had a solid background in typesetting, writing and sub-editing for publications from Penthouse and People to the Financial Review's groundbreaking weekend tabloid AFR Magazine, was left carrying the baby. And like most new fathers, whatever he thought he knew, he still had a lot to learn. Rule number five: never call your magazine after a bodily function.

Dapin's adventures in mag-land are a terrific read, not least for his witty style honed by writing thousands of smarty-pants captions and articles about babes, lads, babes, sports, babes, toys and babes.

In fact, his book is like a lad magazine itself, complete with a fix-her-yourself example of rule one on the cover. There's loads of sex – such as the censor's bizarre "heal to crease" dictum; gossip – the ACP execs and Dapin's rage against ACP New Zealand; travel – how to lose two girls on Great Barrier Reef; celebrity interviews – a night with notorious hitman Chopper Read; sport – featuring Dapin getting smacked about by a punch bag.

And more. It's also the story of Mark's life, in which pain is very much a feature. Most of it, surprise, surprise, involves women. The crashing and burning of his relationships are honest, the emotions familiar. And like the magazine, the telling of them – clever, self-deprecating, true – has you laughing when you know you shouldn't.

Dapin knows magazines, and I'd call Sex And Money a required read for anyone considering a career in the business. But as far as the book goes – again, like the magazines – by the end you're left feeling a little empty. After all the personal and professional battles Dapin fought, he seems little the wiser, possessed of no particular insight.

We last see him getting lost in France navigating as his girlfriend drives – because he's never learned how. Earlier, having run out on Ralph a second time, he visits a Guatemalan mystic. "'You're all broken up inside,' he said. `Your life has no meaning. It just goes around in a pointless spiral.'" – or, in Dapin's words, rule number nine: writers who adopt alter egos eventually grow into them.

Dapin has moved on from Ralph, which, like the entire category, is now well past its prime. He says Loaded has become what it parodied, while Ralph, ironically, serves as little more than a glossy slave to programmes such as Big Brother that Aussies love to perve over.

It's ironic, because Dapin fought so hard for cross-over with ACP's television cousin, Channel Nine, but never got it. FHM did.
Meanwhile, our man in Sydney is still there, on retainer to the SMH's mag, Good Weekend. He is planning a PhD on magazines, and teaching journalism. Lucky students.