Playwright Carl Miller and children’s authors Philip Pullman and Michael Rosen reflect on Erich Kästner and the historical context in which Emil and the Detectives was created and published, in the midst of great cultural and political change in Germany.
Here’s something I produced (filmed by Tim Marrinan and edited by Chloe White), a film celebrating Erich Kästner’s Emil and the Detective - the story, the characters, Berlin - and looks at the upcoming National Theatre production featuring interviews with Sally Gardner, Gillian Lathey, Carl Miller, Philip Pulman and Michael Rosen.
I’m significantly more active on twitter if you want to keep up with my work but now I’m trying to catch up on all my other social media so here’s the 2/3 of my redesign project of the The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman.
I want to write a crossover fic where Penric kin Jurald (and his demon Desdemona) meet Lyra Belacqua Silvertongue (and her dæmon, Pantalaimon) and they meet Trisana Chandler, lately of Winding Circle Temple, who was suspected of harboring a demon; I think this would be great
But after 1 hour all I can imagine are Lyra and Penric getting into a fistfight about the existence of and benevolence of God(s), and Agnostic Tris just starts a betting pool. Observes on behalf of Science.
Lyra stood up, feeling every one of the separate pains and injuries. The hand was worst; she took a very little of the rose salve on her right forefinger and rubbed it in as gently as a butterfly landing on a grass blade. Then she put the salve in her rucksack with the alethiometer, and stepped away from the fire and towards the tumbled ruins.
The moon was climbing the sky, and the vast sweep of the Milky Way stretched above, every one of those minute specks a sun in its own system, lighting and warming planets, maybe, and life, maybe, and some kind of wondering being, maybe, looking out at the little star that was her sun, and at this world, and at Lyra. Ahead of her the dead bones of the town lay almost white in the moonlight. Lives had been spent here—people had loved one another and eaten and drunk and laughed and betrayed and been afraid of death—and not a single fragment of that remained. White stones, black shadows. All around her, things were whispering, or it might only have been night-loving insects conversing together. Shadows and whispers. Here was the tumbled ruin of a little basilica: people had worshipped here. Nearby a single archway topped with a classical pediment stood between nothing and nothing. People had walked through the arch, driven donkey carts through, stood and gossiped in its shade in the heat of a long-dead day. There was a well, or a fountain, or a spring: at any rate, someone had thought it worth cutting stones and forming a cistern, and a representation of a nymph above it, now blurred and smoothed by time, the cistern dry, the only trickle that of the insect sounds.
So she walked on, further and further into the silent moonscape of the City of the Moon, the Blue Hotel.
It was so fascinating to hear Brian Fisher and Ruth Wilson talk about Monkey. That’s his name to them. As Marisa refuses to name him, so they decided in turn. He is simply Monkey.
{News} Tickets are now available for the His Dark Materials Q&A panel at BFI Southbank on May 22.
{News} RUTH WILSON will attend the BFI Southbank TV festival. There will be unseen footage of how Ruth collaborates with puppeteers and bring Mrs Coulter to life.
![[Indefinite Hiatus] --- So Much Stranger, So Much Darker, So Muc](https://64.media.tumblr.com/avatar_4c9eaf2e3e1e_30.png){kind=avatar}
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