HBO or TV: Or How 'The Wire' Is Not a Novel

Cynthia C. Scott

Although many fans, critics, and scholars have compared some television series to novels -- though perhaps none more than HBO's The Wire -- Cynthia C. Scott challenges the analogy

Television has always been regarded as the redheaded stepchild in the arts and entertainment industry, “the boob tube", a vast cultural wasteland of bad sitcoms, cheesy dramas, and vulgar daytime talk shows. Anyone who wanted to show off how smart he was could do so by saying, “I don’t watch television,” or trump any argument on the subject by simply acknowledging that he doesn’t even own one. That’s all changed now. While there are still a few hold outs who think television is too stupid for their tastes, many others now regard the medium as an art form.

Attitudes toward television began changing within the last twenty years when networks executives started championing TV shows that pushed the envelope artistically. HBO of course led the way with regular series such as The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, The Wire, Deadwood, and others, but broadcast television was in fact ahead of the curve by producing quality programs like Hill Street Blues, St. Elsewhere, Twin Peaks, Homicide: Life on the Street, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The West Wing, Lost and so on. AMC’s Mad Men is also leading the way by proving that television doesn’t have to dumb down its material in order to achieve cultural relevance. Television can be and is an art form whose real potential has yet to be tapped.

One thing I do hear continuously however is that fans and critics are saying that TV at its best can be like a good novel, capable of being every bit as full of intelligence and depth. Some even go so far as to say that shows like The Wire are novels and should be watched with that in mind (the cognitive dissonance there ought to tell you something about such comparisons). Odd, considering that serialized TV has a rich history from which these contemporary shows draw.

Serialized dramas in fact predate TV with the creation of soap operas and have evolved over the decades to include the miniseries and storyline arcs in episodic TV, creating a more holistic form of storytelling that rely more on plot and character development. One can draw a straight evolutionary line from soap operas like As the World Turns, the miniseries such as the BBC import Upstairs, Downstairs, primetime dramas like Hill Street Blues and NYPD Blue to more recent serialized dramas like Big Love. In these serialized dramas, stories are stretched out over the course of a season and large casts (during its heyday, most soaps had a cast upwards of thirty or so actors) and overarching themes and messages dominate.

And yet fans, critics, and even showrunners ran away from that history to draw a more direct link with the novel. Writer and producer David Simon was the first to draw this link when he created the critically lauded HBO series The Wire. In interviews, he described The Wire as a “televisual novel", with each episode written as a chapter in the continuing drama. He even made references to writers Honoré de Balzac and Theodore Dreiser as literary forbearers. Instead of hiring writers with a resume out of television, he chose novelists and short story writers George Pellicanos, Richard Price, and Rafael Alvarez to head his writing staff instead. Critics picked up these cues and began hailing the series for its novelistic depth, describing it even as “Dickensian” and praising it for its naturalistic storytelling and social relevance. Viewers potentially put off by the show’s slow and deliberate pace were encouraged to compare it to the experience of reading a novel. Those who stuck with it were rewarded with payoffs in the end (as though reading itself is a boring chore one must get through in order to get to the payoff of a great ending). The Wire fans, some of the most dedicated around, proselytized the show to anyone who would listen, also suggesting that it’s slow pacing, density, and social realism were “like a novel". Viewers who paid close attention to the details the writers set up to explain the various urban institutions of Baltimore and how they were intricately linked to create a society that crushed individual free will were rewarded with a meticulously told and socially relevant story unlike any seen on television. In other words, The Wire was a novel precisely because it borrowed styles and forms that are found in that medium.

Since the show left the air in 2008, The Wire has become for both critics and fans alike an example of great television. Even writers such as Zadie Smith, Nick Hornby, and, recently, Lorrie Moore in the New York Review of Books have sung its praises. Yet comparisons to the novel are rather specious since both the novel and televisual drama have attributes that are unique to each medium. They also offer fans the chance to confer respect on the genre without having to admit how the serialized drama actually evolved. Suggesting that The Wire is more a novel than a TV show refutes the very real artistic evolution television has undertaken since its advent. One need only to ignore this link if one thought such “novelistic” creations as The Wire or Mad Men couldn’t have possibly evolved from a history of televisual storytelling that also includes the soap opera.

First of all, to suggest that a television show is like or can be a novel is like saying a car is like a boat. Certainly they are both modes of transportation, but that doesn’t mean they are the same. Like television, the novel is a medium, a means in which a story can be told, but what makes a novel unique isn’t its tendency toward depth, social relevance, or long term plotting (especially since there are plenty of novels that lack these in ways that are both brilliant and not so brilliant), but rather its reliance on language as its primary means of creative expression. We know this because novels are defined by their length and their length is measured by words. Anything more than 50,000 words is typically a novel (while works fewer than 50,000 are considered novellas, short stories, flash fiction and their various configurations respectively). Television, like film, is more reliant on sound and vision to tell its stories. The differences between storytelling based on language or visuals are enormous and do affect the way a storyteller shapes and structures his tales.

Between visuals and language, the visual is a far more direct means of representation, since a visual image can closely resemble the way the eye perceives depth and dimension. Language, on the other hand, is limited in recreating such optical depth. Yet when used precisely it can be elevated beyond its limitations. Metaphors and similes were developed largely because of these limitations (how might a poet use language to describe that particular shade the sky takes on during sunrise when language itself fails to fully embody such a natural phenomenon and one’s emotional or sublime reaction to it. Thus the birth of poetry’s hoariest cliché). Therefore the main difference between literary and visual texts is the materials of its art and how one shapes or experiences either art. A writer is still subject to the written word to describe characters or their physical and emotional world, while a filmmaker has the use of the visual to do the same. Both have their limitations, but a good writer or filmmaker is able to use those limitations to elevate either art form toward a greater meaning of expression and representation.

Simon noted that he wrote each episode of The Wire like a chapter in a novel, yet time, as it’s experienced in the text, differs in each medium. A page or two of prose can be reduced to a minute or so of screen time, depending on what is being dramatized. And a 45- to 60-minute episode can roughly include upwards of twenty or more scenes, while the chapter of a novel, depending on the type of story, can be limited to one scene or can include up to five or more. An entire chapter therefore might translate into ten minutes worth of screen time in the episode of an average TV series. Therefore a serialized drama can burn through a good 300 page novel before its regular 13-week to 24-week run has been completed. This explains why literary-based shows like True Blood, The Vampire Diaries, or The Walking Dead are taken from serial novels and comic books.

Most novels are largely narrative-driven, while film and TV shows are dramatically-driven. What I mean by this is that a novel, since it is written mainly in prose, can get away with a style of storytelling that isn't dependent on scenes (dialogue and/or action) the way film and television is. While certainly experimental film and music videos (and/or television commercials) can get away with this as well, using visual images that strip away linear storytelling, dialogue, or action to discover a new expressive language, most commercial films and serialized dramas on the other hand are much more traditional in their storytelling, using scenes and dialogue as the main apparatus to push the story forward. While a film or television series does not need to dramatize every aspect of its characters' lives (we rarely see the personal lives of the cops and lawyers on the Law & Order franchise), and events can occur off-screen without hurting the story's linear structure, every significant moment in an hour-long drama or two-hour film will be dramatically expressed in one way or another. Since language allows writers access to areas the camera does not, a novel need not always express itself through the scene in order to be coherent or to push the story forward. Hence, in regards to the novel, narrative is simply prose that can include and/or exclude the scene and can involve interior dialogue, historical or character background, and/or description.

The difference in how each medium expresses itself affects how time is experienced in either. A showrunner interested in writing a “novelistic” TV series will have to dramatize scenes that would otherwise be told in narrative prose in fiction. The creative choices a showrunner makes in regards to what will be dramatized and what won’t will be radically different than the choices a novelist will make. Even filmmakers and TV producers adapting a novel to the screen will have to cut or add scenes (or add or cut characters) that will make the most coherence in visual storytelling. This is why you rarely see faithful adaptations of your favorite novels on the screen.

Also, unlike a novel, a TV series is dictated by program scheduling and/or advertising that benefit the broadcast and cable networks more than they do the showrunners’ artistic demands. After all, why should every episode clock in at the same time if the story itself might dictate that an episode could be told within 15 or 20 minutes. Therefore enough story needs to be available to last not only a single episode but an entire season or series run. This means that a typical serialized drama has to create more scenes and characters than an average contemporary novel can hold, evidenced in the large casts and series run of shows like Lost, The Wire, or Mad Men.

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In the wake of Malcolm Young's passing, Jesse Fink, author of The Youngs: The Brothers Who Built AC/DC, offers up his top 10 AC/DC songs, each seasoned with a dash of backstory.

Editor's Note: Originally published 30 July 2014.

10. “Bedlam in Belgium”
(Flick of the Switch, 1983)

This is a massively underrated barnstormer from the boys off the much-maligned (unfairly, I think) Flick of the Switch. The album was missing Mutt Lange, but the Youngs did have his very capable engineer, Tony Platt, as co-producer in the studio at Compass Point in the Bahamas. Tony’s a real pro. I think he did a perfectly fine job on this album, which also features the slamming “Nervous Shakedown”.

But what I find most interesting about “Bedlam in Belgium” is that it’s based on a fracas that broke out on stage in Kontich, Belgium, in 1977, involving Bon Scott, the rest of the band, and the local authorities. AC/DC had violated a noise curfew and things got hairy.

Yet Brian Johnson, more than half a decade later, wrote the lyrics with such insight; almost as if he was the one getting walloped by the Belgian police: He gave me a crack in the back with his gun / Hurt me so bad I could feel the blood run. Cracking lyrics, Bon-esque. Unfortunately for Brian, he was removed from lyric-writing duties from The Razors Edge (1990) onwards. All songs up to and including 2008’s Black Ice are Young/Young compositions.

Who’ll be writing the songs on the new album AC/DC has been working on in Vancouver? AC/DC fans can’t wait to hear them. Nor can I.

9. “Spellbound”
(For Those About to Rock We Salute You, 1981)

"Spellbound" really stands as a lasting monument to the genius of Mutt Lange, a man whose finely tuned ear and attention to detail filed the rough edges of Vanda & Young–era AC/DC and turned this commercially underperforming band for Atlantic Records into one of the biggest in the world. On “Spellbound” AC/DC sounds truly majestic. Lange just amplifies their natural power an extra notch. It’s crisp sounding, laden with dynamics and just awesome when Angus launches into his solo.

“Spellbound” is the closer on For Those About to Rock We Salute You, the last album Lange did with AC/DC, so chronologically it’s a significant song; it marks the end of an important era. For Those About to Rock was an unhappy experience for a lot of people. There was a lot of blood being spilled behind the scenes. It went to number one in the US but commercially was a massive disappointment after the performance of Back in Black. Much of the blame lies at the feet of Atlantic Records, then under Doug Morris, who made the decision to exhume an album they’d shelved in 1976, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, and release it in-between Back in Black and For Those About to Rock.

In the book Phil Carson, who signed AC/DC to Atlantic, calls it “one of the most crass decisions ever made by a record-company executive” and believes it undermined sales of For Those About to Rock.

8. “Down Payment Blues”
(Powerage, 1978)

This is one of the best songs off Powerage -- perhaps the high point of Bon Scott as a lyricist -- but also significant for its connection to “Back in Black”. There are key lines in it: Sitting in my Cadillac / Listening to my radio / Suzy baby get on in / Tell me where she wanna go / I'm living in a nightmare / She's looking like a wet dream / I got myself a Cadillac / But I can't afford the gasoline.

Bon loved writing about Cadillacs. He mentions them in “Rocker” off the Australian version of TNT and the international release of Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap: Got slicked black hair / Skin tight jeans / Cadillac car and a teenage dream.

Then you get to “Back in Black”. Bon’s dead but the lyrics have this spooky connection to “Down Payment Blues”: Back in the back / Of a Cadillac / Number one with a bullet, I’m a power pack.

Why was Brian singing about riding around in Cadillacs? He’d just joined AC/DC, wasn’t earning a lot and was on his best behavior. Bon had a reason to be singing about money. He was writing all the songs and just had a breakthrough album with Highway to Hell. Which begs the question: Could Bon also have written or part written the lyrics to “Back in Black”?

Bon’s late mother Isa said in 2006: “The last time we saw him was Christmas ’79, two months before he died. [Bon] told me he was working on the Back in Black album and that that was going to be it; that he was going to be a millionaire.”

7. “You Shook Me All Night Long”
(Back in Black, 1980)

Everyone knows and loves this song; it’s played everywhere. Shania Twain and Celine Dion have covered it. It’s one of AC/DC’s standbys. But who wrote it?

Former Mötley Crüe manager Doug Thaler is convinced Bon Scott, who’d passed away before the album was recorded, being replaced by Brian Johnson, wrote the lyrics. In fact he told me, “You can bet your life that Bon Scott wrote the lyrics to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’.” That’s a pretty strong statement from a guy who used to be AC/DC’s American booking agent and knew the band intimately. I look into this claim in some depth in the book and draw my own conclusions.

I’m convinced Bon wrote it. In my opinion only Bon would have written a line like “She told me to come but I was already there.” Brian never matched the verve or wit of Bon in his lyrics and it’s why I think so much of AC/DC’s mid-'80s output suffers even when the guitar work of the Youngs was as good as it ever was.

But what’s also really interesting about this song in light of the recent hullabaloo over Taurus and Led Zeppelin is how much the opening guitar riff sounds similar to Head East’s “Never Been Any Reason”. I didn’t know a hell of a lot about Head East before I started working on this book, but came across “Never Been Any Reason” in the process of doing my research and was blown away when I heard it for the first time. AC/DC opened for Head East in Milwaukee in 1977. So the two bands crossed paths.

6. “Rock ’N’ Roll Damnation”
(Powerage, 1978)

It’s hard to get my head around the fact Mick Wall, the British rock writer and author of AC/DC: Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be, called this “a two-bit piece of head-bopping guff.” Not sure what track he was listening to when he wrote that -- maybe he was having a bad day -- but for me it’s one of the last of AC/DC’s classic boogie tracks and probably the best.

Mark Evans loves it almost as much as he loves “Highway to Hell". It has everything you want in an AC/DC song plus shakers, tambourines and handclaps, a real Motown touch that George Young and Harry Vanda brought to bear on the recording. They did something similar with the John Paul Young hit “Love Is in the Air”. Percussion was an underlying feature of many early AC/DC songs. This one really grooves. I never get tired of hearing it.

“Rock ’n’ Roll Damnation” was AC/DC’s first hit in the UK charts and a lot of the credit has to go to Michael Klenfner, best known as the fat guy with the moustache who stops Jake and Elwood backstage in the final reel of The Blues Brothers and offers them a recording contract. He was senior vice-president at Atlantic at the time, and insisted the band go back and record a radio-worthy single after they delivered the first cut of Powerage to New York.

Michael was a real champion of AC/DC behind the scenes at Atlantic, and never got the recognition he was due while he was still alive (he passed away in 2009). He ended up having a falling out with Atlantic president Jerry Greenberg over the choice of producer for Highway to Hell and got fired. But it was Klenfner who arguably did more for the band than anyone else while they were at Atlantic. His story deserves to be known by the fans.

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