The VPRO is persisting. After NPO's channel manager named the best chance programme Mondo had wrung the neck, for not knowing enough or knowing too much, there will be another 'book programme'. At least that is what a advertisement which the broadcaster posted. Sometime in April, there should be something to do with literature, and the sought-after editor gets to decide how and what.
Quite a job, a book programme that NPO's station coordinator likes, because of course it has to do with ratings and young audiences. VPRO's art programmes didn't have all that, which is why earlier programmes like Free Sounds and VPRO Books were killed off before. And I must admit, I wasn't one of the regular viewers either, however much I belong to the target audience.
5 tips
But of course, it is rarely good enough. So how to do it? I offer some tips. For the young applicant who either suicidally or overambitiously starts her/his/their application letter. So this post is not a job application, because I am too old and white and male for that, but I would still like to leave some tips, as an involved viewer.
1: Leave them be.
Sitting is the new smoking and this is especially true for book programmes. Sitting is easy and comfortable. The last thing a TV viewer wants is to see people who are comfortable. In drama series, people are never comfortable, nor on the news, so why are they comfortable in a book programme?
I myself am still traumatised by the sagging mess of intellectual mischief that Michael Seaman (God Have His Soul) had around him in Seaman with Books, once, centuries ago. It was already Sunday, you were already cooked, and then a couple of mostly men went about outdoing each other in mansplaining, comfortable as anything. The programme was canonised, but I had reservations about it. Because of those hanging benches.
The BBC had already found something to the seating problem on TV. Auntie Beeb's breakfast show has a striking, semi-circular red sofa that looks beautiful, but it doesn't sit one bit. It is too high, too shallow and too hard to relax. I should know, I sat on it a year ago. When travelling to the UK was still possible. The bank is deliberate, the CEO told me. That is why everyone is so alert on the breakfast show: a moment of slacking and you are on the floor in front of an audience of millions.
But sitting on such a shitty couch is, of course, impossible for untrained writers. Then they start twisting and sighing. That's why, in the new VPRO programme on Books, the chairs should leave the studio. Let everyone stand. Maybe add a small lectern, or a big transparent designer table, but standing is healthy and active, and you can't do it for too long either. And everyone looks better standing. It worked at the satire of all satires, Promenade. For the more serious among us, Poetry International also experimented with it successful along.
2: Look from the audience
Art programmes on TV suffer from the cosiness of the art world. Call it Grachtengordel or Gooise Matras: even if they have a writer's cottage in Drenthe, writers still too often visit their publishers, who are mostly in the Randstad (read: Amsterdam). And there they meet editors and presenters, and drink together on terraces and in writers' pubs. Consequently, every programme by Cornald Maas suffers from admiration excess and incrowd excess.
Writers tend to be insecure people and as long as they are not trained by The Secret Weapon of Hilversum it takes tremendous effort to get them to say something spontaneous, especially if they have to stand. Presenters also tend to admire the writer. Nothing wrong with admiration, but a little critical distance can't hurt. Viewers like that. So watch along with your viewer, who doesn't yet know the writer in question, and first wants to know who they totally think they are. So allow yourself a little Ischa.
3: Put in Drinks and Drugs.
The best trick of Adriaan van Dis (the only book programme that young people also watched) was the drink and the ritual around it. It also allowed the teetotalers to take a moment to reflect on a choice that had nothing to do with the book. And that is good. With nerves it helps, although yoga will always be healthier.
Dry January is obviously not a good time to bring it up, but writers are thus insecure and then a sip of wine or something stronger does help to loosen things up. We don't all have to become Connie Palmen, but it's nice to see a writer as a human being on TV too, and not as a discussant of philosophical concepts. Writers (M/F/H) are sometimes quite nice people, and that may be shown.
4: Don't try to be popular
The hardest tip: be yourself. In Hilversum, they like to think about formats for a very long time, which they then do tests and commissions on. That's why it's always such a dull affair. Channel managers think six months is enough to grow, so you have to put up with that, but have shit. A book programme should have personality.
However, I would love it if they manage to find a presenter who can listen, and above all, keep quiet. The latter is tricky. Someone who dares to drop silences on TV is either stark raving mad or otherwise quickly gone, because after one second of silence people already start calling their internet provider to ask if the web is broken.
But a presenter who dares to drop silences would be a breath of fresh air, especially in a book programme. Too often in recent decades, these have degenerated into 'My Monologues in Being a Famous Writer' and that's not nice. Learn from that. After all, those famous writers were very good at being silent. That's why they were famous writers. A book programme where people drop silences: I would sign up for it.
5: Dare to be Stupid
Art journalists - I am one myself - tend to flaunt their knowledge. Especially in front of artists, and especially when writers are involved. Insecure Artists (tautology) kill you mercilessly if you hint that you don't know about everything. They already have to answer the same stupid questions so many times, so you don't want a concerned face as a presenter. That's why you read up very well. But you don't have to show that to your audience. The audience doesn't have that knowledge, so do ask those questions to the known, and don't be ashamed of it. In short, be genuinely curious.
With these five tips, we are sure to come up with a wonderful programme, in this bizarre summer we are facing, in which we will hopefully be allowed to hit the streets again at all. My fingers are crossed for both.
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