Character Equity and Ripper Street

A quick post while the tea brews….

It’s excellent, really excellent, that more episodes of Ripper Street will be made, thanks to the intervention of Amazon. The deal, according to Variety, involves Amazon part-funding new episodes in return for rights to both of the first two series, and first-broadcast rights in the UK, a few months after which the BBC will screen them. No news yet on how many episodes, or when, or the window between Amazon’s screening and the BBC’s. But this is good news – as I wrote here, I thought Ripper Street was a really excellent and lively addition to the BBC schedules, and I was appalled when it was canned.

jerome flynn ripper streetBut let’s be clear about something: Amazon’s been quite clever here. Because it hasn’t just bought a programme brand, an onscreen look-and-feel, a high-class cast and a high-quality writing team. It’s bought a set of characters. Those characters have been etched out, with growing clarity and assurance by actors, writers and directors alike, over two series. They’re now worth actual cash money.

When television drama is done right and done well, this equity investment in characters pays growing dividends (at least, it does until it doesn’t). Which is why it was so bloody scandalous of the BBC to drop the show in the first place. Yes, audiences could have been higher (so why change the broadcast night and schedule it against more popular fare on the other side?). Yes, it must have been an expensive show to make (so why change the…. oh, you get the idea). But the hard work had already been done. Reid and Jackson and Drake and the rest had had come alive. We cared about them. And that, more than anything, is I think why Amazon have come in on this.

ripper_streetBecause characters have value. Characters pull in audiences. Look at Breaking Bad, which I am so nearly at the end of (five episodes to go) that I can barely stop thinking about it enough to write the book I’m supposed to be working on. Those characters were built, knocked down, re-established and refined over five series, until I’m not sure whether Walt is evil or Jesse is good or Skyler is sly, just in the same way I’m not sure about real people. It’s the power of serial television (and, ahem, serial books). And it’s characters that drive it.

So back to my own serial. For which this has been a very, very discreet form of advertising.

Bloody Good Reads: The Gospel of Loki, by Joanne Harris

Look, I’m going to name-drop now. Deal with it.

I bought Joanne Harris’s latest book, The Gospel of Loki, at its launch. Joanne signed it for me (look, Joanne signed my book!). Joanne also gave me some blurb for my second book, and was one of the judges when I won Literary Death Match.

Yes, look at me, I am awesome. I know Joanne Harris, and I’m hugely grateful to her as a new author who’s received her prestigious support.

gospeloflokiSo take what comes next with as much salt as you want, but The Gospel of Loki is magnificent. Take the darkly rich Norse mythology of Odin and Asgard, and transmit it through the amoral, witty and restless voice of Loki, birthed in and birther of chaos. What you get is a series of Tales and Trickery, by the end of which you are at home with some of the weirdest and imaginative beings which ever sprang from human hearts trying to explain what was outside in the Dark.

The book it reminded me of most was Robert Graves’ The Greek Myths, not because of any essential similarity in the telling, but because in both a writer with a singular voice and attitude brings alive a world with such energy and assurance that you wonder how these myths were ever told without that voice. It took the endless Northern nights of telling and drinking to give birth to Loki; it took Joanne Harris to rescue the trickster from Marvel Comics and make him speak again. First class stuff.

The Count, Murray and some other guy

Because I’m a sucker for anything featuring the Count.

Benedict Cumberbatch and the Sign of Four (or is it Three?) – YouTube.

Seeing through Theo Decker’s eyes

Imagine that you could live inside another person’s mind for a week or two. See the world through their eyes, experience their sensations, their fears and their ecstasies.

Imagine that the person whose head you were temporarily residing in was a person of exquisite and detailed responses to the world, whose mind combined erudite knowledge with a refined sense of beauty and craft, such that the world’s surfaces were livid and constantly interesting.

Imagine that this mind was also fractured somehow, traumatised, living with the experience of a horror so deep, just because the mind that experienced the horror is so capable of perception.

Imagine that the dreams and nightmares of this person became, over the weeks of living in their head, so much a part of you that some nights you weren’t sure if you were being kept awake by your own cares, or theirs.

Imagine that you could see the point at which this experience would end, that it was manifest in a thinning number of pages in your right hand, and then one night it just…. stopped.

Imagine that.
Fabritius-goldfinch

To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I’ve only seen a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there.

Wapping, as found in The Lost Valley of London

Londonist linked to this lovely thing today: the latest in The Lost Valley of London series is all about Wapping. It could even serve as a very good book trailer for my first two books, The English Monster and The Poisoned Island. Pirates, executions, river police, docks, tunnels – it’s all there. Lovely.

The man who loves books but cannot read

A beautiful story in the New York Times, that reads like the opening of  a gorgeous Indian novel:

On the banks of picturesque Dal Lake in Srinagar, the summer capital of Jammu and Kashmir, sits the only library in the neighborhood, run by a man who loves books but cannot read.

In a single-story wooden house, carefully maintained shelves are filled with around 600 books in several languages, the prize possessions of Muhammad Latif Oata, a 44-year-old handicrafts seller who dropped out of school at age 10 to work.

Over two decades, Mr. Latif, a Kashmir native, has accumulated all these books through exchanges and donations from people who visited his shop, first in Goa, then in Karnataka and now here in Dal Lake, a popular tourist destination. His collection includes books written by authors from many countries, like the United States, Britain, Sweden, Italy and Korea, reflecting the donors’ nationalities.

Since the vast majority of those who visit the library are tourists, he has named it the Travelers Library. Anyone can take a book; all Mr. Latif asks is that borrowers describe the stories contained in the pages of the books they return. Many visitors, who are Indians from other states and foreigners who come to see Dal Lake, leave behind their own books to add to his collection.

via Illiterate, but in Love With Books – NYTimes.com. Thanks to Kate Mayfield on Twitter for this.

A new book in the U.S., and a new book in the summer

Tomorrow, my second book The Poisoned Island is published in America by the lovely people at Washington Square Press/Atria. I’m hoping things go well – it’s already had a starred review in Publisher’s Weekly, so fingers crossed. And I do like the cover.

Poisoned Island

In other news, I’m delighted to say I’ve signed a new two-book deal with publisher in the UK, Simon and Schuster. They’ll be publishing two more books featuring Constable Charles Horton, the first of which is called Savage Magic and is released this coming summer. It’s been a real pleasure working with S&S over the last couple of years, and I look forward to more fun over the coming months. There will be ARCs of Savage Magic available in a few weeks; if you’d like one, let me know.

 

 

What modern music will endure?

We’ve been having a splendid time on Facebook suggesting albums which we think we’ll still be listening to in 20 years, amid a morass of manufactured and shrill digital pop pap. I’ve embedded the thread here – care to join in?

Astonished by Richard Pryor. And Maya Angelou.

This may be well-known to a lot of people, but before I’d read this article on Dangerous Minds | Watch Richard Pryor’s jaw-dropping ‘Willie’ sketch featuring Maya Angelou I didn’t know anything about this extraordinary slice of popular culture, during which a very troubled but brilliant man performs a comic sketch about drinking, at the end of which he collapses unconscious onto a sofa to be lamented by his wife, with words that would not have disgraces Tennessee Williams or Eugene O’Neill.

The wife is played by Maya Angelou.

I can’t think of anything remotely like this in British comedy.

Where’s it going to kick off next?

 

International: Ripe for rebellion? | The Economist.

The Economist’s rated 150 countries on a scale of 1-4 based on the likelihood of unrest that ‘poses a serious threat to governments or the existing political order.’ Britain as unstable as Equatorial Guinea.