The Importance of Telling Tales...

Netflix has a new show. 
ASK ME WHY I'M COVERED IN GOOSEBUMPS. 
As soon as I can set aside ten hours of uninterrupted viewing time, I'm diving right in. 
ASK ME WHY IT'S MAKING ME SO TINGLY. 
It's not one to squish into a spare hour a night, or one to start with good intentions, only to leave hanging because life's got in the way. 
ASK ME WHY IT MEANS SO MUCH
Before I'm blown away by a slew of questions, I'll cut right to the chase...

HERE'S THE TIMELINE OF HOW I DISCOVERED MY FAVOURITE EVER AUTHOR; AN AUTHOR WHOSE MAJOR WORKS HAVE JUST BEEN MADE INTO A NETFLIX SERIES.

Mid 90s - Late night Channel 4, after the programme I'd been watching had finished, I stumbled across a US mini series called Tales of the City. It was thrilling. A 1970s world set in gay, bi, trans, and straight San Francisco. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see more. I videoed the subsequent episodes and devoured them. 

From clockwise left: Mouse,
Mona, Mary-Ann, and
Anna Madrigal.

Some time after that, I realised - pre-Internet, so no immediate Googling - the mini series covered two books by someone called Armistead Maupin. Tales of the City, and More Tales of the City. I read them both. A few times.

2001 - I was in Australia. On my cousin's wife's book shelf was the third book in the Tales series - Further Tales of the City. I read it on the plane home, posted it back, and buzzed off the literary reunion I'd had. Michael Tolliver (Mouse) was my favourite character. Anna Madrigal was the maternal glue of the piece. Mary Ann Singleton was the straight eyes guiding me through the story. It was like being on the other side of the world but bumping into old friends.

Mid 2000s - I read the next three books in the series. Babycakes, Significant Others, and Sure of You. I was still reading retrospectively at this point and so topics such as AIDS were having a huge impact on the lives of characters, having been written in the mid-80s. At the end of Sure of You, where Mouse accepts his HIV+ status as the death sentence it was, I felt huge grief. The power of Maupin's characters, and the intimacy I'd been afforded as a reader, was intense.

2007 - In the decade since the last book, so many real world changes happened. Treatment and management of HIV meant my favourite character could survive. Michael Tolliver Lives was here! The realism of the writing and the inclusion of sociopolitical events of the time allowed this to happen. The Tales books were becoming a historical resource; a reflection of society as it changed over decades.

It was early days in my Smartphone
 ownership. This photo is pretty much
 the only evidence I have that I was there.

2008 - I celebrated my 30th birthday in San Francisco. It was somewhere I knew well, despite having never been. Maupin's writing had transported me repeatedly over the years. There was no where else I wanted to go. 

2010 - The fact I was now hanging on for release dates, and being able to see interviews with Armistead Maupin in real time, was great. I couldn't be around in the 1970s at the start of it all, but I was fully onboard now. Mary Ann in Autumn was another triumph. Still, at the heart of the story were Mary Ann, Mouse, and Anna Madrigal. They were ageing, dealing with different issues than before, but still authentic and real. They felt like family. 

2014 - The day had to arrive at some point. Armistead Maupin explained that his new book - The Days of Anna Madrigal - would be the last in the Tales series. (Noooooooo!) With that in mind, I made sure I got a ticket for his reading at the Liverpool Museum. He read the opening pages in the most unassuming, gentle manner. I had worried that when I met him - my favourite author, a huge influence in my own writing, the creator of the best characters ever - I'd be disappointed. I wasn't. What was lovely was that he wasn't a loud, superstar egotist. He hid his (deserved) superstar status under a kindly, 'guy next-door ' exterior. His anecdotes were filthy (they really were!) but shared with a twinkly avuncular charm. Despite that, his politics and passion for equality were stamped through everything he discussed. He didn't hide his anger at injustice, but rather communicated it eloquently to give it the weight it deserved. He was the real deal. Saying hello at the signing was a life-highlight. (I wrote about it - and other stuff too - here.)

2017 - As part of Liverpool's Homotopia festival, a screening of a new documentary, The Untold Tales of Armistead Maupin was shown. I got a ticket, was the only straight in the village, and watched one of the best profile docs around. (I think it's on Netflix now. Check it out.)

2018 - Armistead's memoir, Logical Family, was released. Despite dealing with non-fictional topics such as his white-supremacist father, the internalised homophobia he felt as a young man, or the breakthrough to becoming one of the most beloved gay authors around, the lyricism of his writing still leapt from the page. I reviewed it here (scroll down) and meant every word.

2019 - And now here we are. Right up to date in the present day. I've heard about it for a while now, but Netflix have come up with the goods. The Tales of the City series has been given a new lease of life. Picking up long after the initial mini series/first books are over, the new series starts with Mary Ann's return to 28 Barbary Lane. (Somewhere around the Mary Ann in Autumn time I think.) I've seen the trailer and I'm beyond giddy. It's San Francisco in all its beautiful glory, along with Mouse, Mary Ann, and Anna once more. What's particularly lovely is that some of original actors from the 1990s mini-series have reprised their roles. Laura Linney will always be Mary Ann to me, and despite the fact she wouldn't (and arguably shouldn't) be cast today, Olympia Dukakis' Anna is still my go to image whenever I revisit the books. 

We've all aged. Whether we exist on a fictional page, or in real life, the years have rolled on and we're older/wiser/more cynical than we were twenty years ago. But the telling of stories, the sharing of experiences, and the highlighting of lives other than our own, will never date. It's the lifeblood of creativity. Or, to put it less pretentiously, it's what makes a reader return to the same book time and time again. It's what makes characters created for the San Francisco Chronicle forty-odd years ago, enthral and enliven decades later. 

The Tales series has peppered my adult life, giving me reassurance about the human condition, an insight into a world different from the one I live, and gloriously joy-filled escapism with characters I wish were real friends of mine. What powerful storytelling that is. And so now, if it's all right with you, I've waited long enough. I'm going to close the curtains, make a massive cup of tea, and sink into ten hours of the best stories around. Take me to San Francisco, Netflix. I've got a reunion to attend.

Have a lovely week, folks.