Taboo dives into life of James Delaney, a man changed after travels to ends of earth. He returns to London to claim father’s shipping empire, but enemies and secrets lurk everywhere. Revenge, family, power and corruption swirl in this dark, moody world. Get ready for a wild ride!

Meet the characters from Taboo

James Delaney

James is that impossible, magnetic antihero who walks into a room and somehow rearranges the air — brooding, cunning, and full of teeth. He’s vengeful but weirdly principled, like he has a private code written in ink and animal bones; also, he never seems to sleep (or he naps standing up, who knows). He’s simultaneously brilliant at trade politics and obsessed with old maps, and yet he’ll burn a ledger just because it looked at him funny. Oh and he’s intimidating as hell but will sometimes feed a stray bird, which is probably symbolic or he’s just weirdly soft — pick your theory.

Brace

Brace is the best kind of low-key monster: huge, steady, terrifying when he needs to be and oddly goofy at the worst moments. Loyal to the core, he’s the kind of sidekick who’ll crack your skull and then braid your hair while humming a lullaby — I’m not kidding, that’s his vibe. He’s got this hands-on practicality (always carrying weird little tools) but also this soft spot for small creatures — pigeons, mice, whatever — and will protect them like they owe him money. Also, rumor has it he collects buttons? Maybe that’s just something I made up but it fits.

Zilpha Geary

Zilpha is the devout, haunted, quietly explosive type — prayers on her lips, iron in her spine, and secrets tucked into every seam of her dress. She reads scripture like scripture is a battle plan, and then does the most unexpected, petty things (like slipping a note into someone’s pocket) that make you love and fear her at once. Vulnerable and stubborn, she’s also secretly cunning; she can look saintly and then slide a dagger across a table — metaphorically, or not, depending on the retelling. And she collects buttons too, apparently, or maybe that was Brace — look, these characters blur in my head sometimes.

Lorna Bow

Lorna is theatrical and wounded and glamorous in the way a moth is drawn to a flame — she sings, she flounces, and then you see the scars and you know she’s seen too much. She’s fierce and fragile at the same time, like a porcelain doll that can curse you in six languages and then fall apart mid-song; honestly very dramatic in the best possible way. She fights with charm and sometimes uses her smile like a weapon, but also genuinely laughs at bad jokes and cries over bad tea — which she claims she hates but drinks anyway. She’s unreliable in the cutest possible way, which makes her unbearably human.

Sir Stuart Strange

Sir Stuart is the embodiment of Empire: polished manners, razor-tongue, love of procedure, and the kind of confidence that smells faintly of powdered wigs. He’s a bureaucratic machine — obsessed with order and his ledger, and yet he’s brittle underneath, prone to little, petulant power plays when his authority feels threatened. He collects trophies (papers, tiny spoons, compliments) and will pronounce judgement with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Also he dances badly at parties when no one’s looking? Don’t quote me but picture it.

Lieutenant Thorne Geary

Thorne is the kind of military man who’s all bangs and thunder but carries guilt like a secret postcard in his pocket. Tough, rigid, and dependable in battle, he’s also oddly sentimental — writes very polite angry letters that he never sends and keeps pressed petals in a drawer labeled “important.” He loves his family with fierce, clumsy protectiveness, and he drinks to forget and whistles to remember, sometimes at the same time. There’s a volatility there; one minute he’s stoic, the next he’s yelling into a pillow or apologizing to a portrait, who even knows.

Solomon Coop

Solomon is the wheeler-dealer with a smile and an agenda, the merchant who can charm, cheat, and charm again — and somehow make it look like charity. He’s absolutely brilliant at reading rooms and people, a little vain, and always calculating the next angle; but he’s also unexpectedly sentimental about small things, like the last slice of cake or a child’s drawing. He’ll talk you into a trade, out of a deficit, and then give you a teary-eyed backstory about his grandmother — sincere? maybe. Strategic? definitely. Also he hates pigeons but has a soft spot for stray cats, which is a personality tic I adore.

Dr. Edgar Dumbarton

Dumbarton is the clinical, laconic doctor who looks at bodies the way other people look at gardens — with specific curiosity and questionable ethics. He’s precise, detached, and kind of terrifying in his calmness, like someone who will explain amputation in the same tone he’d use for tea. There’s a weird tenderness underneath: he’ll fuss over a bandage and then casually suggest an experimental procedure that sounds like science fiction. He collects jars with labels and maybe cries at sunsets, or that’s what the rumors say (or the jars say).

Helga von Hinten

Helga is the cold, efficient foreigner with an arsenal of expressions and an even more confusing wardrobe of allegiances. She’s stealthy, unnervingly cheerful while doing terrible things, and has this creepy habit of humming lullabies right before a fight — which makes you distrust your own pulse. She’s loyal to a cause (or a face), reads people like books, and is somehow fond of neat little rituals — folding handkerchiefs, arranging knives by size, whatever calms her. Oh and she likes flowers but won’t tell you because that would be suspicious; also she carries a pocket watch for reasons that are both romantic and probably lethal.