Monday, 19 September 2016

Black Mould Issue #1 - Preview

Guleed in Action!
Gospel Oak's Answer to Natalia Romanova isn't about to tolerate any aggro from fungus!

On sale: October 12

Rivers of London: Black Mould #1
Writers: Ben Aaronovitch & Andrew Cartmel
Artist: Lee Sullivan
FC - $3.99 - 32pp

Friday, 16 September 2016

Rejoice People of Britain

Official Release Dates!
UK Hardback  and Kindle release - 3rd November 2016
UK Audio Download - 24th November 2016
UK Audio MP3CD - 8th December 2016

The images above are taken from the Titan Comics release of Rivers of London: Night Witch and were drawn and coloured by Lee Sullivan and Luis Guerrero.

Monday, 5 September 2016

Moments Two

Are little bits of fiction that don't really rate being called a short story and are unlikely to ever be incorporated into a longer work. Needless to say they still constitute a finished work and I assert my copyright etc.

Reynolds – Florence, Az. 2014
There’s something about these motels that makes me want to talk to Jesus. 

When I was a girl I used to talk to him all the time, before races, exams, the occasional date, we used to be much closer. I had a friend in Jesus indeed. I suppose I stopped being so chatty as I got older. I reckoned Jesus did not need to know about every traffic jam on the way into the office, every burst pipe, lost cat, disappointing boyfriend – every trivial bump in my life. It’s not that I stopped thinking that Jesus loved me, I know he loves me as he loves all of us, I just felt he might have more important concerns. The world being what it is. 

Still there’s something about these motel rooms that make me want to get down on my knees and pray, head down, eyes closed or as my Mama used to say – adopting the right attitude towards the Lord.

I’m tempted to call Mama and talk to her instead but she wouldn’t understand and in any event I’m not supposed to discuss these cases with civilians. Not even my Mama. She’d probably tell me to stop overthinking things and count my blessings. Which I do on a regular basis. 

The motel room is painted a pale blue, there’s a microwave on top of the minibar and an old fashioned TV that promises cable at a price. The bedspread has an old fashioned floral pattern in grey and green, the bed is nice and firm which I like because when the Bureau send you out they don’t spring for anything but coach. Although you’d be surprised how often the badge gets me an upgrade especially out west. The air conditioning is good, thank god, and the wifi is decent.

Only the bed and the microwave are any temptation.

Florence has a main street called Main Street, a High School football team called the Gophers, a saloon that dates back to the old west and seven different prisons. Incarceration is the local industry here and business is booming as criminals keep breaking the law and we keep locking them up. I’ve seen a great number of prisons on this assignment and the towns they sit next to are just ordinary small towns with ordinary folks doing ordinary things.

According to Google there are some restaurants on Main Street but that would mean eating alone and that usually means having to fend off conversation. I was a much friendlier person at the start of this trip.

I keep imagining what it might be like to be sitting in a booth somewhere, my kindle propped up against the napkin holder wondering whether to have the peach cobbler or the apple pie. Hearing that pop pop pop sound in the distance or a scream or see the waitress fall down and realise that you haven’t even heard the gunshot. Hauling out my pistol, looking for a target, trying not to get shot.
I’ve only ever discharged my firearm in anger the one time and that was in a sewer under London, England and I missed the target.

When I was training at Quantico I was always imagined the silhouettes as bank robbers or terrorists or kidnappers but the men and women I visit in the prisons are so ordinary. Disgruntled highschoolers, angry ex-employees, ex-husbands. These are the ones that survive mind you, the ones that surrender to their teacher or the first LEO on the scene, or get overpowered by some brave folks using pepper spray or other improvised weapons. The other half of them get themselves shot or eat their own gun. No telling what they were like in person but from their files they seem as ordinary as anybody else.

There’s all sorts of theories about why people become an active shooter but truth is nobody really know the why. Only that they’re getting more frequent and more deadly. My mama says that it is a sign of the end times but she said that the day Obama got elected for his second term and also that time during the superbowl when Janet Jackson had her wardrobe malfunction.

So now I’ve been sent out to see if there’s anything supernatural about these killings. I do not believe they are going to be happy with my report because as far as I can tell a more natural bunch of murderers you will never find. 

My mama always said that if something magical weren’t a miracle from god than it must be the work of the devil but if he’s behind these shootings he’s too subtle for me.

So first thing tomorrow I’m going to visit one of those seven prisons and interview a thirty six year old white male who shot his wife and his mother in law and was all set to shoot up his home town if he hadn’t been tackled by, of all people, the mail man. He barely made the local news.
The motel room is blue and I think I’m going to have quick talk with Jesus.

It’s that or the emergency box of Pizza Rolls I have in my case.

Friday, 26 August 2016

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Cover Preview: Black Mould Issue #2

Rivers of London: Black Mould #2
WRITERS: Ben Aaronovitch & Andrew Cartmel
ARTIST: Lee Sullivan
COLOURS: Luis Guerrero
FC - 32pp - $3.99 - On sale: November 16

There's a mould problem in South London. Not the usual stuff that smells funny and can be hell on the lungs. This mould is possessed by some dark power full of bad intentions and it's another case for London's one and only trainee wizard cop, PC Peter Grant!

Cover A: Paul McCaffrey

Cover B: Lee Sullivan & Luis Guerrero

Cover C: Dan Boultwood 

 Hmnn I wonder where the idea for that last cover comes from? Could it be...

Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Monday, 8 August 2016

Moments One

Are little bits of fiction that don't really rate being called a short story and are unlikely to ever be incorporated into a longer work. Needless to say they still constitute a finished work and I assert my copyright etc.

The young lady in the picture is Erlin Ibreck posing for the Ghananian photographer James Barnor for a Drum fashion shoot in 1966.

Nightingale: London 1966
By Ben Aaronovitch 

Since the war it had become impossible, during his infrequent visits to London, to persuade Hugh to visit the Folly we naturally gravitated to the Navy and Military. The food was not a patch on Molly’s but like most of the survivors Hugh complained that there were too many ghosts at Russell Square for him to be truly comfortable.

‘I’m surprised that you stay there yourself,’ he’d said on an earlier trip. ‘But then you were always made of sterner stuff than us mere mortals.’

The chaps have always needed to set me on a plinth this way. I can see it in their eyes. If the Nightingale can take it so can I, they say and who am I to disabuse them or tell them of the nights I have spent pleading with the spirits for some peace. If only there were ghosts in truth, after all I had been educated in a dozen different ways to rid myself of those.

I, of course, could not abandon the Folly without first abandoning Molly and that was not something I was prepared to do. This duty had proved a strong enough thread upon which to hang my sanity, that and the stubborn streak I had no doubt inherited from my mother.

Hugh was in fine fettle that afternoon his son had recently taken a position with an old established firm in Hereford.

‘One had feared that he would be drawn to the bright lights of the Metropolis,’ said Hugh. ‘Instead I am graced by his presence most weekends. He’s taken a great interest in the bees of late.’

‘And how are the hives,’ I asked.

‘Thriving naturally,’ said Hugh. ‘I have a talent if I do say so myself.’

I’ve always thought Hugh’s desperate striving for normalcy was undermined by that strange quixotic urges of his. I’ve seen photographs of his ‘tower’ in Herefordshire and his interest in insects predated the war. David used to rag him unmercifully about his frequent field trips abroad. 

‘Hugh is our modern Darwin,’ he once said. ‘Only he takes his inspiration from beetles not snails.’

I remember Hugh in those dark forests on the Ettersberg. He’d dropped his staff and picked up a rifle and with every action of the bolt he swore at the German infantry as if they were responsible for the things we’d seen. 

We all reached the limitations of our art that night.

‘And speaking of our mighty capital,’ said Hugh over our Castle Puddings. ‘I’ve been hearing the most extraordinary things. The gypsies who came for the harvest this year said that there was a woman who's claiming to be goddess of the River Thames. A coloured lady no less.’ Hugh grinned and waves his fork as if it was my fault. ‘Is this true? Is it even possible?’

I said that it seemed entirely possible and that I had met the young lady in question and she seemed entirely agreeable if somewhat forceful. Hugh expressed interest in how the Old Man of the River might be taking this new turn of events and I told him with the same indifference he’d shown to events below Teddington Lock these last hundred years or so.

‘I thought the old town felt different,’ said Hugh and a I felt a sudden moment unwarranted alarm.

‘Different in what way?’ I asked.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Hugh. ‘A certain frisson, a sense of excitement, youth, energy,’ he trailed off and shrugged.

‘The miniskirts?’ I said because Hugh had always had an eye for the ladies.

‘You don’t feel it then?’

‘I can’t say that I do.’

‘And yet you seem much more cheerful,’ said Hugh. ‘Has something changed?’

‘You remember what David used to say –“ everything is change”?’

‘I remember that you invariably responded with plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose,’ said Hugh. ‘Perhaps you were both right.’

After lunch I gave Hugh a lift to Paddington to catch his train. During the drive he suggested that I might trade in my perfectly serviceable Rover P4 for something more modern and went as far as to quote Marcus Aurelius – in the original Greek no less.

Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.

I hardly saw what that had to do with my choice of automobile but once he’d put the idea in my head I began to see the advantages of perhaps acquiring one of the new model Jaguars. At the very least it would impress my colleagues at Scotland Yard.

And perhaps a new suit in the modern style to go with it.

Friday, 5 August 2016

Monday, 1 August 2016

A Quick Chronology

A Chronology of the Rivers of London Books

People have been asking about where the comics fit into the chronology so I thought a blog was in order. One caveat - the short story The Home Crowd Advantage is obviously set in 2012 during the London Olympics but because it was written before the chronology of the series had firmed up it contains a number of anachronisms. I've learnt to be philosophical about this sort of thing.

This is not the same as publication order.

Rivers of London
(Midnight Riot)

The Home Crowd Advantage
Short Story
Moon Over Soho

 Whispers Under Ground

Broken Homes

Body Work
Graphic Novel
Foxglove Summer

Night Witch
Graphic Novel

Black Mould
Graphic Novel

 The Furthest Station

 The Hanging Tree

Friday, 29 July 2016

Friday Comic Tease

Coloured Panel
 Night Witch Issue #5 

Monday, 25 July 2016

A Little YALC For The Weekend

Friday 29 July 3.00-3.45pm

Fantasy London
Samantha Shannon, Ben Aaronovitch, V E Schwab

Venue: YALC main stage

Other panellists: Samantha Shannon, V E Schwab, Katherine Webber (chair)
Three of the biggest names in fantasy fiction today come together for a panel discussion exploring their writing, and their alternative visions of London with host Katherine Webber.

Friday 29 July 4.00-6.00pm

Book signing session

Venue: YALC signing area

Tuesday, 19 July 2016




Writers: Ben Aaronovitch & Andrew Cartmel
Artist: Lee Sullivan

 It creeps! It crawls! It ooooozes! Something dark and slimy is dripping through the walls of suburban London. Not usually a police matter but there's something very weird about this mould. Police Constable Peter Grant and his unwilling partner, Sahra Guleed, soon find themselves knee deep in killer muck! Meanwhile, their boss, Thomas Nightingale, is preparing to do battle against a haunted ice cream van. Good times.

Rivers of London: Black Mould #1

Cover A: Claudia Caranfa
Cover B: Lee Sullivan / Luis Guerrero

Cover C: Anna Dittmann

Cover D: Arianna Florean
Cover E: Ben Templesmith

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Black Mould Cover Tease

Coming in October

Toby and the Folly Gang face their biggest mystery ever.

Although to be honest my money's on the culprit being Old Man Smithee who would have got away with it too if it hadn't been for those meddling kids.

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

Edinburgh Festival


I will be appearing at the Edinburgh Festival on Friday 
August 19th at 20:45


Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Night Witch Issue #4

Or it may be out on the 22nd I'm going check

Out Today
Night Witch Issue #4