I have been sitting here staring at a blank screen for nearly an hour. That isn’t counting the 2 months that I have been postponing the writing of this blog. If I don’t write it, it can’t be true. And yet our lovely Philippa (‘Our Pip’, as me and Janet always called her) died peacefully at home on 15 October 2024. Somehow a light went out in the world. There are already some lovely obituaries out there–one poignantly, brilliantly written by Jeanette Winterson for The Guardian, another in The Bookseller, another on Shelf Awareness. I’m sure there are others. But the point of all this is that this blog will not recount Philippa’s incredible, pioneering career in publishing, but will, instead, talk about how she was such a huge part of our lives and, how sorely she will be missed.
Back in the dim and distant past, Janet and I worked alongside each other at London Metropolitan University (University of North London, as it was known then). We were at the beginning of our careers and wondering how on earth we could possibly move into publishing. At the end of the 1990s a new phenomenon – ‘quality’ American TV, as it would later be controversially called – arrived on our TV screens. Sex and the City and The Sopranos were causing quite a buzz and Janet and I saw a call for papers from David Lavery (someone else who became our dearest friend, but sadly is no longer with us) for an edited collection on The Sopranos. We submitted a proposal. It was accepted. Our writing careers were launched. Published in 2002, This Thing of Ours: Investigating The Sopranos (Wallflower/Columbia University Press) started us on a road that few in the UK had yet travelled.
By some incredible luck a colleague at Royal Holloway secured us an introduction to Philippa and I.B. Tauris and, to our excitement, she came to our university to meet us. At that meeting we pitched our initial thoughts for the idea of an edited collection on Sex and The City which, in Janet’s words ‘would formulate a feminist discourse and find a new language with which to express it … we were trying to communicate liberatory images of female sexuality and subjectivity, agency and speech, while acutely aware that such a revolution was happening from inside a representational hegemony.’ At the same time, we wanted to ‘capture the sheer fun, the irreverence, the jouissance of female laughter and feminist friendship, but also practice a different way of doing research’. For some inexplicable reason, Philippa liked the idea. Two new green baby academics with no experience of editing a collection were trusted by this publishing giant. Sometime later Tauris published the book.
Again, in Janet’s words: ‘Philippa was the very best of editors, quietly, endlessly patient, as she listened to our ramblings – our blue skies thinking which often became lost in a thicket of word-clouds. Only for her to offer the most astute observations, perceptive thoughts delivered as a judicious question, which gave the rough cut a clarity and definition. She made the calamity of groping for ideas sound like the best idea ever. She had a unique gift for identifying exactly what you were trying to achieve, as you rummaged in the thesaurus toolbox for the right word. But she always had it.’ We even received an advance as well as royalties, and she threw us the best Sex and The City book launch at the offices of I.B.Tauris – a very rare occasion, both then and now. As if that wasn’t exciting enough, Philippa then pitched the idea of a book series for us, through which the Reading Contemporary Television series was born. The rest, as they say, is history.
It is hard to imagine a world without quality TV and the immense amount of scholarship that is now out there. But, in those days, Philippa took a huge risk entrusting us to edit a book series on the new in television—observing, critiquing, archiving what was happening before our eyes – even before the dust had settled. Quite apart from the fact that there were only a few series even appearing on our UK TV screens, American TV (quality or not) was not something academics wrote about. Philippa knew that this venture was risky, but she had faith in us. We had faith in her.
To get the series off the ground, Philippa fought many a battle with the editorial board at Tauris. She made sure that all the books would go directly to paperback so that they would be affordable. She let us loose on the marketing and, even when we got bad reviews from newspapers (upstart academics treading on popular culture’s toes) she just smiled sweetly and said, ‘any publicity is good publicity’ and ‘you must be doing something right’. She scraped both of us off the floor on so many occasions. She healed us emotionally and supported us intellectually every step of the way. Over the years, she gave wise counsel, and our professional relationship blossomed into genuine friendship.
Neither of us can believe that we will never see her again. We spent hours with her laughing until we cried, drinking cocktails and eating good food. She was one of the most stylish people we ever knew, and she certainly knew the best places to dine. Those were heady days. We felt that we could conquer the world, as long as Philippa was by our side. As our attentions shifted to CST, and we focused on the journal and CSTonline, we felt that we’d ended this particular publishing journey, concluding with TV Betty Goes Global (the last book in the Reading Contemporary Television series), Philippa remained a good friend and continued to give wise counsel – even though she was not obliged.
One of my favourite memories of Philippa (and there are many) was being in New York with her at The Sopranos: A Wake held at Fordham University in September 2008. This was the conference that got me and Janet in big trouble with the administration at Fordham, as outlined here by David Bianculli. But it isn’t just this that sticks in my memory – it is the Sopranos tour that followed. We visited many Sopranos themed places, not least of which was The Bada Bing, or ‘Satin Dolls’ as it was really called. Unlike the Bada Bing, the dancers behind the bar were not bare-breasted due to the ‘booze-or-boobs’ law in New Jersey but, nonetheless, it was a bizarre moment. Philippa and I stood awkwardly, watching the dancers, fellow conference goers nervous. What would two raging feminists make of the objectification of these women? The riddle was solved when Philippa turned to me and said with a huge grin on her face, ‘aren’t they magnificent?’ We spent the rest of our time at the Satin Dolls admiring the dancers, their athleticism (you try pole dancing) and marveling at our unexpected response.
One of the proudest memories we shared with Philippa was when she was rightly awarded the Kraszna-Krausz Foundation’s Outstanding Contribution to Publishing in 2014. Philippa called us and said how ridiculous it was, but the organisers were making a film to be shown at the ceremony before the award was given to her and would we mind being in it? Did she have to ask? Of course, media whores that we are, Janet and I jumped at the chance. We waxed lyrical about Philippa – her fierce intelligence, her grace and integrity, her instincts, and her general all-round wonderfulness. At the event, held in a swanky London hotel, Janet and I could not have been prouder to sit next to Philippa on her big night out. (Think Jamie Lee Curtis when Michelle Yeoh won the Golden Globe. That was us.) Ever humble, she played down the award but, after 40 distinguished years in publishing, groundbreaking with her titles, it was only right and proper that her contribution was recognised.
The last kind act Philippa did for me was to read the manuscript of my book, Mothers on American Television. She had commissioned it while at Tauris, but it took me a decade to write. After the book was panned by readers in America, I did the unthinkable and asked her to read it. I had totally lost confidence and needed an expert opinion. She was supportive as always and told me to send it out in the UK. I did. It is now published by Manchester University Press (thank you Matthew Frost) and I am relieved that I managed to get a copy to her before she died. For Janet, Philippa took her ‘for the obligatory lunch to discuss her idea for a book on heroines of Nordic noir TV. While yet to be completed, Philippa, until the very end, encouraged, cajoled and always believed it would be done.’
Janet and I will be forever grateful to Philippa for what she did for us. How she enriched our lives. Still processing her unfathomable loss, we saw Jeanette Winterson’s tribute. The line which dismantled us was when Winterson said Philippa ‘gave me the chance that became my life’. Never a truer word. Philippa gave us the chance that became our academic lives. And so many more people.
Please leave your memories of Philippa in the comments section below. It would be lovely to read how our Pip impacted your lives. Thank you.
With additional comments (and astute editing) from Janet McCabe
Kim Akass is Professor of Radio, Television and Film at Rowan University. Her book Mothers on American Television: From Here to Maternity was published by Manchester University Press in 2023. Janet McCabe is Reader in Television Studies and Film at Birkbeck, University of London. They are both founding editors of the television journal Critical Studies in Television: The International Journal of Television Studies (SAGE), as well as series editors of the ‘Reading Contemporary Television’ series (Bloomsbury).
