Where do I even begin with Malorie Blackman?
She was my childhood heroine, full stop. I still remember devouring her books like forbidden fruit at Leyton Library (yes, Sacerdos, Chapter One reference alert). But the true magic moment? My graduation in 2009 at the Institute of Education, when I locked eyes with the legend herself. She was receiving an honorary doctorate. I was a green, idealistic trainee teacher. Our fates crossed, and I haven’t shut up about it since.
So, naturally, when I saw Noughts and Crosses being staged at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, I ran, not walked, for tickets.
The Production: Star-Crossed and Stark Reality
Dominic Cooke’s take isn’t just a play. It’s a punch. A living, breathing, open wound of a story that refuses to be neatly bandaged. It’s stylish, searing, and quietly revolutionary. Somewhere in that amphitheatre, I found myself flashing back to the 2008 RSC production (the one with the ferocity and full-throttle emotional gearshift). This version? Just as bold. Maybe bolder.
And the reflections? Immediate.
This story (about love across enemy lines, class divide, and racial hierarchy) hits differently when you’ve lived parts of it. My own experiences in interracial relationships shaped the Sacerdos Mysteries series, from Caelara’s flirtations with Toreor (royalty), Nathaniel (military), and Xaviour (Mardan nobility), to the silent social codes that hung over them like smoke. Caelara is Black. Her suitors are white. That dynamic isn’t accidental. It’s complicated, uncomfortable, and it’s real. Some readers struggle with it: I get it.
Behind the Book Covers: My Own Crossed Lines
The truth is, I wrote Sacerdos with my experiences at boarding school in mind. East Sussex, 1999–2005. I was Head Girl at a school that would, eventually, be shut down due to, let’s be kind; administrative anarchy. But for a moment in time, it was a global tapestry. My best friend was Japanese. My classmates hailed from every continent. It was chaotic. Beautiful. Formative.
Later, as a college lecturer, that rich diversity got even richer. And that’s when Ripe Earth was born.
Picture this: Peter Pan meets Twilight, and reads Lord of the Flies out loud. That’s Ripe Earth. Gwen Oluran, my sweet, naive Sephy-like heroine, falls for Myron: the sexy, sadistic tyrant with a flair for shadow puppets and psychological warfare. It’s messy. It’s mythic. And yes, it needs to be a stage play.
Dominic Cooke, could you call me?
Imaginings: Stage Dreams and Shadow Plays
Every scene I saw in Noughts and Crosses had me mentally storyboarding Ripe Earth — a Midsummer Night’s Dream-style glitter-fest of queerness, wings, and wickedness. The flying. The sensuality. The shadows. All of it screamed, “Give me a stage, a musical score, and a costume designer with glitter in their blood.”
I’ve already penned plays like By the Book and The Department. There’s also Dangerous Philosophies, which is part-philosophy, part-memoir, part-pop-documentary, think The Greatest Night in Pop, but with deeper questions and more eyeliner.
Final Thoughts & A Call to Blackman
Back to Noughts and Crosses: the cast? Sublime. The venue? Magical. The rating? A hearty 8/10 with extra credit for weather resilience (British summer is a genre of its own).
But the highest honours go to Malorie Blackman herself. Her legacy continues to evolve, just like the people who read her — or, in my case, write under her influence. I’m currently on her BBC Maestro course for writing YA fiction, and it’s a masterclass in more than just writing—it’s a study in storytelling courage.
Got a favourite theatre production that stayed with you long after the curtain call?
Drop it in the comments. And if you’re curious about Ripe Earth or Sacerdos, check them out here – elizabethamisu.com/ripe-earth/ and elizabethamisu.com/sacerdos. Who knows? You might find a little magic between the pages. Or a bit of mischief.
And Dominic, seriously. Let’s talk.