Mark Gatiss is brilliant in this series – just don't call it cosy crime
Many a fictional detective has an extracurricular talent that feeds into their work; Sherlock Holmes and his violin; Inspector Morse and his crossword skills; Columbo's fluency in several languages.
In Mark Gatiss' new crime series Bookish, the co-creator and co-writer of Sherlock stars as Gabriel Book, for whom the detective work is the extracurricular talent.
Book is an eccentric antiquarian bookshop owner who is also adept at solving mysteries. He draws on his encyclopaedic literary knowledge to help figure out motives, methods and the psychology behind all manner of crimes.
Book regularly helps out the local police, led by the affable Inspector Bliss (Elliot Levey), and if anybody queries his involvement, he tells them he 'has a letter from Churchill'. (A bit like Doctor Who's psychic paper, the mere mention of it seems to satisfy anybody who asks).
Bookish is set in London in 1946, a less common setting for period drama; Gatiss, a long-time detective fan (as well as Sherlock he has adapted several of Agatha Christie's Poirot stories for British TV, and starred in the series Marple), has said it's a favourite time period of his, given the state of the world: women suddenly empowered (although expected to return to their kitchens), lots of weapons brought back by soldiers, a radical government, and a sense of hope. But no shortage of criminal activity.
We first meet Book when a young man, Jack (Connor Finch), freshly released from prison, shows up for a job he's been given at the bookshop. Jack moves in with Book and his wife Trottie (Bridgerton 's Polly Walker), who runs a specialty wallpaper shop next door to the bookshop. Gabriel and Trottie seem very much in love – but they have a secret: theirs is a 'lavender marriage', the term given to a marriage where one or both parties are gay, when such a thing is illegal. The pair have long been best friends, having met as children, and Trottie is aware of Book's 'proclivities', which must be kept secret. Especially from the police he spends so much time with.
Jack is initially daunted by both Book and his books (all of which are 'catalogued' in a manner as oddball as the man himself), and understandably baffled that the local coppers defer to Book on criminal matters. But he soon comes around – and learns that he hasn't been taken in by the couple by coincidence.
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The Advertiser
an hour ago
- The Advertiser
What makes a song 'Australian'? Triple J's Hottest 100 reignites bigger question
On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands.
News.com.au
3 hours ago
- News.com.au
Annie Knight reveals why she's no longer friends with Bonnie Blue
Annie Knight has sensationally ended her friendship with Bonnie Blue over her most recent sex stunt – just eight months after the pair were kicked out of Fiji for filming their controversial Schoolies stunt together. The Gold Coast sex worker, famously dubbed 'Australia's most sexually active woman', said their friendship turned sour after Blue announced a 'horrifying' sex event that was so shocking, it got her kicked off OnlyFans. Blue was banned by the adult platform after her 'petting zoo' idea – where she was set to be tied up in a glass box 'like a zoo animal' for anyone of legal age to join her – copped widespread criticism. Many called out its 'dangerous' messaging, stating it glamorised sexual violence and 'promoted rape culture', with Blue later canning the stunt and stating 'it had to go'. Shortly after, Blue went on a rampage, claiming OnlyFans 'took unprecedented action' to punish her for 'making content, while multiple other creators are mimicking my entire marketing techniques and events'. 'The only difference is, I don't cry and I don't vlog hospital journeys. I just keep smiling,' she fumed, referring to Knight's recent hospitalisation for an endometriosis flare up. It was this 'stab in the back' that prompted Knight to reassess her friendship with the increasingly controversial porn star, resulting in her deciding to cut Blue out of her life for good. 'I'd spoken to her just a week prior and everything was fine and then she got banned from OnlyFans and the next thing I know, she's badmouthing me online, using my health issues against me and trying to get me banned as well,' Knight told 'Her ship was going down and she tried to pull down as many people with her as possible, that's something I would absolutely never do. 'She tried to take credit for other people's careers and insinuate that people copied her, namely me. It's a huge stab in the back.' Knight said she had been growing increasingly concerned about the direction Blue's content was going in, noting that 'consent' and 'respect' are at the forefront of her own videos. 'I think the derogatory nature of the 'petting zoo' was horrifying. It opened the floodgates for abuse and other horrible things to occur. It was a line I wouldn't even dream of crossing,' the 27-year-old, who is originally from Melbourne, explained. 'I think at the end of the day our morals are completely different. Consent is so important and it has always been important that I convey that in my content. 'Sex is meant to be enjoyable for both parties and that's the most important thing for me to educate people on.' Knight, who discusses their fallout on the latest episode of her podcast Annie Knight: Unhinged, said many of Blue's most problematic views never sat well with her. 'I disagree with cheating and I don't believe that women belong in the kitchen or on their knees,' she explained, noting the British porn star's now infamous views on marriage. 'I am a 'girls girl', and I am supportive of other women. Being a woman is hard enough in a world where the odds are pitted against us, we don't need other women trying to tear us down as well.' However, Knight has 'no regrets' about filming explicit content with 'barely legal' young men alongside Blue in Fiji back in November, arguing the Schoolies leavers involved were consenting adults. 'I always knew Bonnie did more extreme content than I did, but I didn't think that she would take it as far as she did.' Ultimately, the pair were kicked out by the country's Minister for Immigration, Pio Tikoduadua, in an effort to 'safeguard Fiji's integrity and immigration system'. Blue, whose real name is Tia Billinger, had to return to the UK after her Australian visa was cancelled the week prior while Knight came back to the Gold Coast. The women later went to Spring Break in Cancun in March but haven't seen each other since, with Knight getting engaged to Henry Brayshaw, a FIFO worker who is also the son of popular sports commentator James Brayshaw, shortly after. 'Her content is so in your face, it's crass as all f**k,' he noted on the podcast episode of the difference between his fiancee's content and Blue's. 'A lot of it is rage bait, and ridiculous, which I understand is common in the industry but predominantly I just feel worse off for seeing her stuff. 'When I saw that whole 'being in a box' thing, I as someone who is familiar with the world you guys are in, I knew that was f**ked up. That's ultimately what it comes down to.' A spokesperson for OnlyFans said 'extreme 'challenge' content is not permitted on the site,' stating it goes against its 'Acceptable Use Policy and Terms of Service'. 'Any breach of our Terms of Service results in content or account deactivation,' the spokesperson told The Sun last month.
Perth Now
5 hours ago
- Perth Now
Banksy work removed from Venetian palazzo for repair
Art restorers have removed a deteriorating piece of graffiti by street artist Banksy titled The Migrant Child from a building overlooking a Venetian canal to preserve the work. The removal from the wall of Palazzo San Pantalon was carried out in consultation with people close to the secretive British street artist, according to the Venice-based bank Banca Ifis' art program that promotes art and culture. The artwork depicting a shipwrecked child holding a pink smoke bomb and wearing a lifejacket appeared along Rio di San Pantalon in Venice in May 2019, and was acknowledged by Banksy. Marked on online maps, it has become a tourist destination. But six years of neglect had led to the deterioration of about a third of the work, the bank said. The restoration is being overseen by Federico Borgogni, who previously removed dust and cleaned the surface before detaching a section of the palazzo's facade, Banca Ifis said in a statement. The bank is financing the project, but didn't release the cost of the operation. The bank intends to display the work to the public as part of free cultural events organised by Ifis art once restoration is completed.
