Serials: a whole new world of episodic possibility

As the Guardian reported this week, Amazon are releasing a new range of serialised books - spend $1.99 on the first installment, and you get the rest of the story free as it is sequentially released.

Of course, this isn't the most original of innovations.  Two of the titles with which Amazon are launching the range are Pickwick Papers and Oliver Twist, which were initially released some 160 years ago in serialised form, along with many other Victorian novels.  It is also not true to say the practice has died out in the meantime, as anyone who tunes into Eastenders or Casualty (or indeed, any episodic television series) can attest to.

But what is really exciting to me about this announcement though is it's obvious relation to new technology.  The announcement was made alongside the release of the new Kindle Fire, which is more akin to an iPad than the first generation Kindle, and serialisation perfectly suits the new digital age - you can download and read a bitesize chunk, accessing more if you so choose, with neither reader nor publisher having to worry about the hassle of multiple printed documents.

On Batman & Dickens

WARNING! major plot spoilers for The Dark Knight Rises and A Tale of Two Cities.

(via wikipedia)

The most recent Batman film, The Dark Knight Rises, was the big event of the summer before the Olympics came along, dancing and attention-hogging. But, a few scant weeks ago, hard as it is to imagine that simpler time, Christopher Nolan's third man-in-cape movie was generating serious press attention.

Reading through some of the reviews, a central issue of contention seemed to be whether a superhero blockbuster could count as serious art. Some favourable critics praised the film for this very achievement – although usually with the caveat that it transcended its comic-book origins, rather than admitting Batman into the pantheon of great characters with Odysseus and Hamlet and those guys from The Godfather. The few dissenting critics usually accused the film of pretension, of over-reaching its generic shortcomings, and toppling embarrassingly. Chris Tookey, the Daily Mail's ever ill-judged critic, hammered this point home, somehow managing to accuse the film of failing to be serious in the serious art sense and simultaneously being too serious and not enough fun.

It is perhaps in defence of the serious, artistic nature of his film that Nolan has revealed the influence of Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities on The Dark Knight Rises. As a staunch lover of Dickens, it was this possible precursor of the film that was at the forefront of my mind as I entered the cinema.

If great authors wrote the Olympic Opening Ceremony...

Image: London Evening Standard

Tonight's Olympic opening ceremony is supposedly based on Shakespeare's The Tempest - the title is Isle of Wonder and Kenneth Branagh is rumoured to reading Caliban's 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises' speech.  This is all well and good, but we were wondering what might have happened if the show had been produced by some Literary Greats from throughout history...

Shakespeare seems the obvious place to start.  The Tempest is ok, but everyone knows that the tragedies are Shakespeare's greatest work, while the histories are all about the bizarre squabbles of the Royal Family.  Of the predicted one billion global watchers, who wouldn't be thrilled in this Diamond Jubilee year to see a Hamlet/Othello/Romeo and Juliet Royal mash-up, featuring Kate and William as star-crossed lovers, with Mohammed Al-Fayed as Iago convincing William that Prince Philip killed his mother?

Charles Dickens: Where to start?

In the first of our articles responding to reader requests, we’ve put together an introduction to classic Victorian author Charles Dickens.  Always wanted to read him, but never known where to start?  Not sure if its your thing at all?  Finished all his books, and want to check if you agree with us?  Read on to find out!

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The basics

Dickens’ novels tends to be enormous – not just in terms of pages but also in terms of characters and storylines.  Once you get over his slightly outdated style (it was over 150 years ago) then he’s a very easy read – his characters might be cartoonish, but they’re often still recognisable today, as (sadly) are some of the societal problems which he regularly attacked.

Review: Bleak House by Charles Dickens

To get one thing out of the way: I love Dickens. First and foremost, his work is highly entertaining, almost pulpy, demonstrating a mastery over form and content rarely seen anywhere. There's a wicked glee to be found in his satire, but never one that strays into cruelty; Dickens is just as capable of pathos and sentiment if he wishes to be. His style is similarly perfected: unafraid to experiment, but aware of the importance and primacy of accessibility and plot, equally comfortable with grim naturalism and merry caricature, with contorted coincidence and easy freedom. Unlike later authors, who adopt more 'low-brow' genres such as the detective story (of which one of Bleak House's many subplots is an important forerunner) and brutalising them to breaking point with conceit and intellect, Dickens fully inhabits and understands his medium: his genius comes in his ability to transcend generic constraints even as he perfects them. Never is there a sense that he is straining to show off his, presumably considerable, intelligence, never a sense that he is trying to be clever. There is great joy in reading Bleak House in the mastery of craft, a mastery that is at once unpretentious and capable of vast popular appeal.

Review: A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

(contains some spoilers)

Prior to this I’ve had mixed feelings about Dickens.  Bleak House is a fantastic book, with a brilliant cast of characters, targeted and effective satire and an extraordinarily complicated plot that all comes together for an excellent finish.  Little Dorrit is similar, but crumbles at the end, and the characters never quite reach Bleak House levels.  Oliver Twist was ok, but the plot was a little too contrived, and Nancy aside the characters fell on just the wrong side of caricature.  Great Expectations I hated, mainly because of a deep-seated loathing of Pip, and the ridiculous incredulity of Magwitch as a character.  With the decision of who to study as a ‘Special Author’ next year looming, A Tale of Two Cities was given the make-or-break position in my Dickensian life.

Luckily for Dickens (I like to think he has a particular posthumous interest in whether he is studied by undergraduates, and consequently has a fierce ongoing ghostly war with Virginia Woolf…), the novel is outstanding.  It uses its historical setting (the French Revolution) to just the right extent: it creates an epic backdrop to the action, but never in a way that seems forced.  The emotional tone is excellent, and the story is such that I stayed up until 2am finishing it.