Podcasting is a fairly new form of media. It has precursors in the twentieth century, but has only existed in its current form over the last fifteen years. It resembles radio. Indeed, many professional podcasters work, or formerly worked, in radio and many podcasts are re-edits of radio broadcasts. Podcasts are quite different, though – many are financed through listener donations in addition to advertising, they exist in perpetuity, allowing for ‘binge’ listening, and their independent format means that they can feature content which would not be suitable for public radio. Perhaps most importantly, podcasts do not need to adhere to a set time limit, allowing for greater freedom in terms of broadcast length. By far the most noteworthy podcast of recent years has been Serial. I found Serial utterly compelling and, with the first episode of the new series having dropped, I want to unpack why.

In its most simple description, the first season of Serial was a true crime story. It is, in fact, two narratives – the story of a murder and ensuing trial, and the story of Sarah Koenig exploring that story. The very first words of Serial series one were ‘For the last year, I’ve spent every working day trying to figure out where a high school kid was for an hour after school one day in 1999– or if you want to get technical about it, and apparently I do, where a high school kid was for 21 minutes after school one day in 1999.’ She begins, in other words, not with her subject, but her own narrative. Accordingly, she begins not by interviewing the people involved but people from her own life. Koenig’s presence in the story as a substitute for the audience works wonderfully because she often voices the same thoughts as the listener and, unlike the author of fiction, the resolution of the story is equally unavailable to her as to the listener.

In some ways the story which unfolds resembles fiction; Koenig asserts of the first season ‘on paper, the case was like a Shakespearean mashup– young lovers from different worlds thwarting their families, secret assignations, jealousy, suspicion, and honor besmirched, the villain not a Moor exactly, but a Muslim all the same, and a final act of murderous revenge.’ In other ways, however, Serial is compelling because it captures the way in which real life stubbornly refuses to resemble fiction. In Arden of Faversham, another Elizabethan play, this time presenting a version of a real murder, the following is asserted;

Gentlemen, we hope you’ll pardon this naked tragedy,
Wherein no fil’d points are foisted in
To make it gracious to the ear or eye ;
For simple truth is gracious enough,
And needs no other points of glosing stuff.

True crime, in other words, is not beautiful. Serial bears out this assertion. In the new season Koenig begins by explaining (not apologizing for) the presence of microwave ‘bing’s, the sound of a dog scratching, and other intrusions of life in all of its imperfection. Often the voices are distorted, as is the case over Skype or other media. These signs of authenticity make the podcast all the more engrossing because we have a sense that what we are listening to has its own life beyond the narrative.

What ultimately made the first season of Serial work is that Koenig, brilliantly, presented within the murder story, two narratives. One where Adnan killed Hae Min Lee, and one where he did not. Both narratives involve versions of the same characters, and both narratives are entirely plausible, but only one can be true. Here, again, the refusal of life to work the same way as fiction is present – both narratives are flawed and subject to mistakes and lies. Facts are presented which contradict one another. As the story grows, like a good detective story, the possibility of resolution apparently becomes more remote, except, in this version, when we reach the final chapter all we have is a fascinating mess, because, as we know from Arden of Faversham, a true naked tragedy is not beautiful.