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Posts tagged Doctor Who
Doctor Who The Silent Stars Go By – Dan Abnett review
Nov 16th
This latest Doctor Who blockbuster novel is rather a festive affair, as the Doctor is under strict instructions to take Amy and Rory back to Leadworth in time for Christmas. Unfortunately, the TARDIS has other ideas, and plunks our heroes down on the planet Hereafter in the far future. However, to defend the TARDIS, Hereafter is very snowy, and thus is the epitome of the traditional Victorian image of Christmas. Having written that, Hereafter’s inhabitants, the Morphans, aren’t as advanced as the Victorians, and are quite rustic. In this way, the Morphans are quite similar to the villagers from the 1980 Classic Doctor Who adventure State of Decay, who were also humans in the far future whose society had regressed to a feudal state. Also like the villagers in State of Decay, the Morphans’ language has become corrupted, with names misremembered over the 27 generations that people have been on the planet, which the Doctor ascribes to “Neologism” in this book, and to “consonant shifting” in State of Decay.
The Silent Stars Go By does take a long time to really get going. The banter between our heroes in the beginning also grates a bit, as it’s a bit inacurratesque and more than a little tiresome. Also, for a long time, The Silent Stars Go By doesn’t really hit the high notes achieved by Naomi Alderman, Jonathan Morris, and James Goss in the current Doctor Who books range, with the tone of this book being a lot more childish (although the action does pick up more later). Indeed, I suspect The Silent Stars Go By, being so redolent in seasonal imagery and references, could have worked better as an actual Doctor Who Christmas Special, as it would have been great to see the Ice Warriors back on-screen. And, much as I love Steven Moffat’s work, he does have a habit of getting too schmaltzy in his Christmas episodes (if the details leaking out about the 2011 one are to believed), and maybe too ‘Christian’ (since the 2010 special, A Christmas Carol, featured the “Christ the Saviour is Born” line from Silent Night, while the title of this book comes from O Little Town of Bethlehem). Indeed, since The Silent Stars Go By is so seasonal, it really begs the question of whether we really need 2 Christmas Specials this year?
Unfortunately, like the Morphans, it would seem that Ice Warrior culture is also in a state of decay, because although The Silent Stars Go By depicts them far in the future of any of their Classic Doctor Who adventures, they haven’t progressed at all. Since they’ve yet to appear on the revived series, the Ice Warriors haven’t been redesigned in either the prose or via Lee Binding’s cover illustration. Instead, they are mostly Klingon clones in this book, with Dan Abnett not daring (or maybe not being allowed) to even get to the bottom of what the Ice Warriors actually call themselves. Also, the Ice Warriors talk in the same hissing voice in this book that they utilised in the Classic Doctor Who adventures, which would be quite tedious if they are ever to appear in the revived series, as it was never all that audible. However, Dan Abnett does invent some new mythology, as the Ice Warriors call the Doctor Belot’ssar (which means “cold blue star” in their language) – yet, since this nickname derives from the far future, it’s unlikely to appear in any other adventures. Having written that, Dan Abnett does come up with a couple of nifty new facets for the psychic paper, neither of which (on the surface) actually helps the Doctor. Although the Ice Warriors are suitably menacing, their brain cells are revealed to be as thick as their hides in The Silent Stars Go By, and their thought processes are just as lumbering as their strides. Throughout The Silent Stars Go By, the Doctor states that the Ice Warriors are very pragmatic by nature, a notion that is somewhat dispelled by an ending that reveals that the Martians hadn’t spotted a very Mars-like planet nearby which could have saved them all the bother of attacking Hereafter.
So The Silent Stars Go By is an okay read, but I think that Naomi Alderman’s Borrowed Time was far more worthy of being bound in hardback this year than this rather less adventurous and intelligent tale.
Doctor Who Paradox Lost by George Mann
Aug 24th
Paradox Lost is another one of those timey wimey narratives that have proliferated in Doctor Who novels of late. Having landed in the late 28th Century, the Doctor and his companions are confronted by the mangled body of an android, which has been in the Thames for a thousand years. The android warns the Doctor that he must stop Professor Gradius’ time experiments, or else a malevolent alien race called the Squall will consume the world. So, the Doctor decides that he must travel back to the early 20th Century to confront the Squall, while entrusting Amy and Rory to stop Gradius’ time experiments.
Although the Doctor receives help from a Professor ‘Angelchrist’, I don’t think that the plot of Paradox Lost has otherwise much to do with John Milton’s epic poem, Paradise Lost, from which George Mann has evidently derived his title. I suppose the demonic Squall could be regarded as being akin to rebel angels. However, since the Doctor is their main adversary, if George Mann was attempting a pastiche of Paradise Lost, then this would mean that the Doctor is a kind of messianic figure in this narrative. Indeed, it’s no doubt a truism that the Doctor is a kind of stand-in messiah in our secular age, a distinction that he shares with many other fantastic heroes (although I’d argue that the Doctor is by far the best role model). So although there is a bit of sacred imagery and metaphor employed here, Paradox Lost is by no means a religious narrative, despite the resurrection of one of the characters at the end.
George Mann, appropriately enough, is well versed in Doctor Who. For instance, there is the suggestion, at the end, that the Doctor has gone off on a short jaunt to Totter’s Lane to dump off some rubbish, which is a nice subtle reference to the very beginning of the Doctor’s televised adventures. In addition to this, there is a gentle hint to the devastation that will be caused by solar flares in the 29th Century, which has featured in several of the Doctor’s adventures. George Mann also does a nice line in speculation, as his theory as to why the TARDIS console is made up of bric-a-brac is due to the Doctor having to replace worn out parts with whatever junk he has to hand. Professor Angelchrist would appear to be an early prototype of the Doctor with regards to his UNIT role, albeit he is very much human. The Doctor soon appropriates his motor car however, in another reference to the Pertwee era, since this vehicle is quite akin to that incarnation’s favourite roadster, Bessie.
Paradox Lost starts off at a nice even pace, before the middle section really ramps up the action to a pleasing scale. However, I thought that the resolution was a bit uneven in places. The Squall are hell-bent on consuming the Doctor’s mind, much like at least one other alien entity in recent Doctor Who novels, so there is a bit of repetition from this point of view which the editor of the book could perhaps have pointed out, although this element is quite integral to the resolution of the plot. George Mann’s representation of the Doctor and his companions is mostly excellent and spot on. I very much liked the fact that this wasn’t a Star Trek style of temporal paradox narrative, as the great majority of the ‘people’ who die in the book do indeed stay dead (with one sentimental exception). Indeed, it was good to read Rory’s anguish at the devastation that he and Amy unwittingly wrought in the book. The paradox itself is of sufficient timey wimieness to satisfy even the most ardent Doctor Who fan.
Doctor Who Hunter’s Moon by Paul Finch review
Aug 10th
I left the reading of Hunter’s Moon till last for the April Doctor Who book releases, as its premise didn’t seem all that exciting. Quite a few of the most recent books have been quite innovative in their use of ‘timey wimey stuff’, which has led to some quite exciting plots and narrative structures. Hunter’s Moon, on the other hand, is just a straight narrative, and thus seems quite tame in comparison. Since most of the action takes place on a dour, deserted moon, this book appears quite similar in mood and tone to some of my least favourite TV episodes, such as 42, The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit.
I’m not familiar with Paul Finch’s work, although he has previously adapted one of the classic series’ ‘Lost Stories’ for audio. This adventure, Leviathan, was originally written by Paul’s father, the late Brian Finch, who enjoyed a long, successful career as a TV scriptwriter for many series such as All Creatures Great and Small, Bergerac, and Heartbeat. However, Paul Finch is evidently a Doctor Who fan who knows his stuff, as there are references to Terileptils, Black Light, transmat, and Aggedor. Although he’s perhaps too big a fan of Eighties’ Doctor Who, as part of the plot involves Amy having to pilot the TARDIS (albeit via the Doctor’s instructions), which is much akin to Tegan’s attempts to fly our favourite time vessel during Peter Davison’s reign as the Doctor. Much in keeping with the present series of Doctor Who is the Doctor’s anger at the kidnapping of his friends. In much the same way, the Doctor’s morality is a bit inconsistent here, as he saves the life of a malevolent amoebous blob by transmatting it, yet later he kills one of the humanoid villains with some plastic explosive without any compunction. Indeed, the dispatching of the main villains at the end is quite similar in distasteful tone to the notorious acid bath scene from Vengeance on Varos; although here, as in that earlier adventure, the Doctor is only indirectly responsible for these deaths.
Paul Finch is a good and capable storyteller. However, as above, we’ve recently been spoiled with some really fantastic writers for the Doctor Who books range, and Hunter’s Moon doesn’t sparkle in comparison with their books.
Doctor Who Touched by an Angel by Jonathan Morris review
Aug 3rd
Touched by An Angel is another brilliant addition to the Doctor Who book range. The main protagonist is Mark Whitaker, a man who’s still haunted by the death of his wife in a tragic car accident in 2003. (We Doctor Who fans love our nostalgia, so I couldn’t help but think that Jonathan Morris chose to name his hero after David Whitaker, the TV series’ original script editor, who wrote the first novelisation, Doctor Who and the Daleks, which also opened with a car crash). The main reason why I decided to skip ahead and read Touched by An Angel before some earlier books in the range is due to the fact that it featured the Weeping Angels on the cover, and I was fascinated as to how Jonathan Morris would convey these iconic beasts in his novel. The recently released trailer to the second part of series 6 also added to my excitement about this book, as it reveals that the Weeping Angels will feature in the TV series again. It’s also worth noting that Amy is wearing the same red check shirt that she wore in her ganger guise, which (if intended) is a handy way of dating the events in this novel.
Continuity does indeed play a huge part in the plot of this novel, as Mark is sent back in time by an angel at the start of the book. However, instead of being sent hundreds of years into the past (as the Angels were wont to do in Blink), they only send Mark back 17 years into his past. This concerns the Doctor greatly, as it means that Mark could very much interfere with his own future. Not only that, but his intimate knowledge of the recent past means that he’s a much greater threat to the development of humanity than someone ignorant of the intricacies of history being sent back 100 years. However, to complicate matters, Mark’s future self has sent him instructions which he must follow to the letter, or else this will create the kind of temporal paradox that the Angels love to feed on. Thus, one of the glories of Touched by an Angel is that it lets us see Steven Moffat’s greatest monsters in yet another new light, revealing them to be much more adaptable and cunning than they first appeared to be in Blink (although some of their methods also derive from The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone from series 5). The Blinovitch Limitation Effect (a plot device first mentioned in the classic series) also gets a tasty look-in.
So, Jonathan Morris very much utilises all the intricacies of time travel here, which splendidly enhances the the thriller elements of Touched by an Angel. Jonathan Morris also chooses the locations of his drama’s set pieces very well, as the Angels don’t look all that much out of place in a churchyard and a museum. And when they do invade a student disco, it’s very much to comic as well as thrilling effect. Jonathan Morris’ depiction of our regular cast of heroes is excellently executed, as it should be by the writer of the official Doctor Who magazine comic strip. Although I did think the scene where the Doctor punched Mark was a bit out of character; however, I guess this could be evidence of series 6′s “Dark Doctor” here, and he did also (uncharacteristically) punch Bracewell in Victory of the Daleks. (I guess Rule No. 11 could be that “The Doctor sometimes punches people, and even occasionally resorted to Venusian aikido in his younger years”.) Something I enjoyed a lot more than this unusual bout of fisticuffs on the Doctor’s part, was Jonathan Morris’ depiction of early 90s student life, especially since it’s quite similar to that I enjoyed myself (Jonathan Morris and I are roughly the same age).
However, the real joy of Touched by an Angel is the inevitable emotional angst that travelling back in time causes Mark, especially with regards to one momentous decision… Perhaps Mark’s final encounter with his wife is a bit too sugary and implausible, but it’s very excusable as it allows for an excellent joke regarding the Doctor’s own bungling (or possibly intended) intervention in Mark’s life. Jonathan Morris brilliantly brings the rather flawed Mark Whitaker to life with such aplomb, skill, and resonance that I, for one, would be very happy if he were ever chosen to write for the TV series.
Doctor Who The Dalek Handbook by Steve Tribe & James Goss
Jul 18th
The Dalek Handbook is a very comprehensive guide to everyone’s favourite Skarosians. The Daleks have been ever-present during the near 50-year run of Doctor Who, firstly appearing in the Timelord’s second adventure, The Daleks. Of course, the famous story (retold in this book) is that Doctor Who‘s producers didn’t want BEMs (“Bug Eyed Monsters”) in the programme, but had to run with The Daleks as it was the only script ready for production, and thus the whole impetus of Doctor Who changed forever with their arrival.
Since the Daleks have been in the programme for 50 years, it can be quite difficult to present a coherent history for them. This is mostly due to the fact that the show’s original producers didn’t let continuity get in the way of a good story, and also because they had no idea that they had created such a long lasting institution. Steve Tribe and James Goss do a very good job of recounting this history, although I did take exception to their surmise that the race of Dals mentioned in the original story must have been usurped by the Kaleds (the race that created the Daleks in the later adventure Genesis of the Daleks), as I would have thought that this inconsistency could have been explained away by them just having two names, just as our enemies in the Second World War could either be called Nazis or Germans.
Steve Tribe and James Goss make it abundantly clear just how influenced Terry Nation was by Nazi Germany in his creation of the Daleks, as they were doing Nazi salutes with their plungers way back in their original adventure, long before Nyder sported an Iron Cross in Genesis of the Daleks (a medal which has Germanic, rather than Nazi origins, although overwhelmingly associated with the Nazis since Hitler reintroduced it as a decoration in the Second World War). Interestingly enough, the authors relate that Terry Nation’s original script featured a third alien race which had assaulted both the Dals and the Thals… However, this is very much a factual book, so criticism is very much on the back burner. Thus the similarities between The Daleks and George Pal’s 1960 adaptation of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine are not brought to light (e.g. the word ‘Morlock’ is not a million miles away from ‘Dalek’, and the stolen fluid link is a rather obvious replacement for the purloined time machine of the film).
There are several splendid anecdotes, such as the time when Doctor Who‘s original producer, Verity Lambert, ran into the man who had the license to make Dalek merchandise, who was hence considerably far richer than her… There’s also the revelation (to me anyway) that Terry Nation’s plans for a US Dalek series were quite advanced, to the point that he’d written an actual script called The Destroyers (which was recently adapted into an audio adventure by Big Finish). It’s also great to see the sketches created in the wake of the 1996 Paul McGann Doctor Who TV movie, which envisaged a redesign of the Daleks far more radical than that of the current production team with their ‘new Dalek paradigm’ (one which I heartily criticise in Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who 2010). In addition to this, it’s very interesting to learn that Russell T Davies was planning to use the human spheres from The Sound of Drums (the Toclafane) instead of our favourite Skarosians in Robert Shearman’s 2005 script in case permission to utilise the Daleks didn’t come through in time for the revived series.
I found quite a few of the images of the classic series’ adventures to be very grainy, letting down what is otherwise a very lavishly illustrated book. I guess the editors of the book were attempting to get away from the more polished (but overly-familiar) publicity photos from these adventures by adding in many actual screenshots, but these screenshots could have done with a great deal of enhancement in order not to detract from the quality of the book. Steve Tribe has a great track record as an author of factual Doctor Who books, and James Goss (editor of the BBC’s Doctor Who website) similarly knows his stuff, but their prose is quite dry. Indeed, I feel that James Goss’ prose really comes to life when he’s writing fiction, especially his recent excellent Doctor Who novel, Dead of Winter. Yet you can’t beat a lovely dose of nostalgia, which this book provides in ample amounts, even to the point of recounting the Daleks’ many comic book adventures. Ah, for the days when Abslom Daak was wont to cut through the Daleks with a chainsaw!
Doctor Who Dead of Winter by James Goss review
Jul 11th
Dead of Winter is one of the best Doctor Who books that I’ve ever come across. One of the first signs that something different is happening here is that a great many of the novel’s chapters are written in the first person, which provides an excellent insight into the minds of our favourite characters from an unusual perspective (with perplexing memory loss as an added ingredient for the TARDIS crew, a device that elegantly reduces the risk of any spoilers to zero). Dead of Winter is set in 18th century Italy, so it’s quite appropriate that much of the novel is written in the form of letters, as the epistolary novel was very much in vogue at this time. James Goss also makes full use of the fact that this is a novel to play a few tricks on us regarding the identity of various characters, which works very well in prose, but couldn’t happen on TV.
Once again, there’s an adrift alien at the heart of the mystery, which is a trope that Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who seems to like revisiting. Dead of Winter‘s also very much in keeping with the current run of Doctor Who novels with regards to its casual references to British popular culture, and for a having a child at the core of the story. There’s also a lovely nod to the TV series, as Dr. Smith tells Maria (the aforementioned child, who’s been abandoned by her mother) his secret name… Which all leads to a rather lovely and ingenious twist in the plot. James Goss also has some rather nice references to Amy Pond’s menage a trois with Rory and the Doctor in the TV series. Also, very much in keeping with my view of the current series, Rory expresses some misgivings about the Doctor’s methods, as he investigates just how Dr. Bloom is curing patients with TB over a century ahead of time… In an addition to this, there’s quite a few doppelgangers hanging around, which adds to the drama and the mystery, although (fortunately enough) they’re not of the ‘ganger’ variety. There’s another echo with the current series with regards to a deadly incident that very much affects the Doctor… And, I don’t know, with all the fog, the duplicates, and the sea, James Goss may also be harking back to the Horror of Fang Rock from the classic series of Doctor Who. James Goss certainly knows his stuff, as he should do, since he’s run the BBC’s Doctor Who website. However, there’s not a hint of nepotism in Albert DePetrillo’s commissioning of this book, since James Goss is a damn fine writer whose novel has been published on its own sublime literary merits. Indeed, James Goss’ Dead Air achieved the mighty accolade of Audiobook of the Year of the year in 2010, which is a very mighty achievement for a Doctor Who book. In addition to this, James Goss writes a blog called The Agatha Christie Reader, and his love of her work also finds its way into Dead of Winter via some subtle asides. What complicates things even further is the disappearance of the TARDIS, which turns out to be due to a little used facility of the Doctor’s time vessel… And there’s the rather neat revelation that the Doctor doesn’t actually speak English! Who are the mysterious ghostly figures that rise up from the sea and dance with the patients on the shore? And why does Prince Boris’ manservant have a habit of floating inches from the ground? You’ll find out all this and more in the rather excellent Dead of Winter, which is far more fantastically lively and thrilling than its title would suggest.
Doctor Who Borrowed Time by Naomi A. Alderman review
Jul 10th
It wasn’t so long ago that BBC Books scored a coup by publishing a Michael Moorcock Doctor Who novel, The Coming of the Terraphiles. That was an okay book, but I was even more delighted when the latest load of Doctor Who review copies arrived, as one of the authors’ names really leapt out at me. Could ‘Naomi A. Alderman’ be the ‘Naomi Alderman’ who won the Orange Prize for New Writers with her debut novel Disobedience in 2007? A quick scan of the accompanying press release revealed that it was indeed so. Naomi Alderman was also named by Waterstones as one of their Writers for the Future in 2007. I find it really exciting that BBC Books are able to commission authors of such extraordinary calibre, following the lead of the TV show, which has recently called on the talents of Richard Curtis and Neil Gaiman. Could Doctor Who be in danger of becoming part of the literary establishment? I certainly hope so. To make things even more stellar, Borrowed Time is partly dedicated to Naomi Alderman’s cousin, Samuel West, who may or may not be the well-regarded actor of the same name who incredibly appeared in the lamentable Doctor Who/EastEnders crossover Dimensions in Time for Children in Need in 1993 only a couple of years after starring in Howards End, and who also played the Time Lord Morbius in a Big Finish audio adventure. Needless to say, all this pedigree allowed Borrowed Time to jump quite a few places on my to-read list!
It takes Naomi Alderman a couple of chapters to get going, but once she does, she really hits the ground running. Her characterisation of the Doctor, Amy, and Rory are spot on. The henchmen Symington and Blenkinsop appear to have stepped right out of The Matrix (the Wachowski movie, rather than the Time Lord databank), especially when they become ‘duplicated’ and start hunting down the Doctor and his friends as a horde. However, Mr Symington and Mr Blenkinsop turn out to be quite literally loan ‘sharks’, with the added propensity of biting chunks out of anyone that gets in their way, and they’re a great example of how Naomi Alderman takes a simple idea to its logical (and somewhat surreal) extremes. The main plot is just as clever, featuring several employees of Lexington International Bank who have borrowed just a bit too much time from the aforementioned henchmen as they attempt to get at least one step ahead of their colleagues. Since time is the commodity that’s being traded, it’s not long before the Doctor becomes embroiled in the events at Lexington Bank. However, despite the fact that Amy knows the Doctor abhors dodgy dealings with time travel, she can’t help but take Symington and Blenkinsop up on their offer to allow her a rare opportunity of visiting her parents. Since the novel’s set in 2007, one would have thought that she’d run the risk of bumping into herself, but fortunately, the ‘real’ Amy appears to have spent a great deal of time away from home in Leadworth in 2007. It’s just as well that Symington & Blenkinsop’s watch has a Blinovitch Limitation Limitation though.
In some places, especially with regards to the explanation of compound interest, Borrowed Time comes dangerously close to following Doctor Who‘s original remit of being educational, to the extent that even a financial market is brought vividly to life (albeit a temporal one). Yet Alderman’s novel is also very much a thriller, and her well-thought-out plot will have keep you royally entertained as you rapidly flick through its pages. Borrowed Time is also very funny, and it’s very evident that Naomi Alderman knows her Doctor Who lore. As she writes in the acknowledgements, Naomi Alderman’s first exposure to Doctor Who was a video of The Robots of Death, and you can’t really go wrong with an introduction like that. To my delight, Naomi Alderman also utilises the vworp, vworp noise to representation the landing of the TARDIS, something she’s borrowed from the Doctor Who comic strips (if only the subtitles for the TV show would do the same!) Borrowed Time is a very clever satire on both our current 24 hours a day culture, and the 2007 banking crisis, since the novel’s events are set just before the beginnings of this calamity. Indeed, in my opinion, Borrowed Time could very well be the best novel written yet on the banking crisis!
Doctor Who The Way Through the Woods by Una McCormack
Jun 28th
Una McCormack’s The Way Through the Woods unburies that old storytelling yore of the dark woods that seemingly swallows people whole, for all those who enter the woods will never be seen again… It’s a device that I myself have utilised in my own short stories. So, on first appearances, The Way Through the Woods appears quite hackneyed. Although men and women from the town of Foxton have vanished in the woods over the centuries, Una McCormack just concentrates on a few women who have disappeared in this manner, and to be honest, on first reading, I lost track of which woman was which, and wasn’t all that involved in the narrative. In addition to this, the story pivots around an abandoned and broken down spaceship, a motif that’s really been done to death in Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who. So, it seemed to me (on first impressions) that The Way Through the Woods was rather a let-down when compared to Una McCormack’s Doctor Who debut, The King’s Dragon, which was quite good.
Such was the quality of her Gallifreyan debut however, that I decided to give The Way Through the Woods a thorough re-read, and I’m very glad I did. For one thing, Una’s characterisation of Rory is spot on (the Doctor and Amy not quite so, but nearly), and for another, her references to the 2005 series of Doctor Who were very good (I particularly liked her cogent explanation of the fact that Rory both is and isn’t the Auton Roman centurion who guarded Amy while she was trapped in the Pandorica). There’s also a nice scene later on when an image of a Roman soldier causes Rory to blush (although he’s not quite sure why, as he’s lost his memories), as this is something will appeal to adult readers. The Way Through the Woods is also very educational; for instance, I’d never heard of the nickname ‘Conchie’ before reading this book (short for ‘conscientious objector’), and I’d previously thought that the pub closing hour introduced during World War I was 11pm (Una points outs that it was actually the far more restrictive 9.30pm). The theme of the First World War also runs through the narrative in a much more subtle way than in did in it did in the 2007 episode of Doctor Who called The Family of Blood. At first, I also thought the naming of the alien as a ‘Werefox’ to be quite old hat, and redolent of the overabundance of anthropomorphic creatures that have faced the Doctor in the recent past. However, I then read Una McCormack’s acknowledgement at the end of the book to Fairport Convention “for recording Reynardine”. Since ‘Reyn’ is the name of the aforementioned Werefox, I had to look this up, and discovered that there are actually ancient tales of a Werefox called Reynardine that steals away maidens to his castle in British folklore. This explains why so many women feature in this book – which, of course, is not a fault – the fact that I lost track of who was who was down to my not paying adequate attention when I first read The Way Through the Woods. So, if Una McCormack is guilty of anything with regards to this book, it’s that she’s perhaps a bit too subtle, and too modest to point out just how clever she’s been in this very good book.
The Brilliant Book of Doctor Who 2011 by Clayton Hickman et al
Feb 16th
Although the title appears quite boastful, this is indeed a rather splendid guide to series 5 of the revived Doctor Who. Each page is lavishly illustrated, and very well designed by Paul Lang. Doctor Who fans of a nostalgic nature (of which there are very many!) will no doubt be pleased that the illustrations that accompany Brian Aldiss’ story are much akin to those that graced the old Doctor Who annuals. Although it’s a real coup to have such a distinguished SF author contribute to this book, Brain Aldiss’ short story is nothing to write home about. Much more successful is David Llewellyn’s mini prequel to Chris Chibnall’s The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood. Of course, the reason why the Silurians hibernated beneath the Earth is a load of codswallop, since the Moon came into orbit long before life appeared on Earth (and indeed may have contributed to the development of life). However, Llewellyn can’t be blamed for this, as the very confused origins of the Silurians were first postulated in the Classic Series.
I really disliked the redesign of the TARDIS for the 5th series, and the lavish illustrations of the original concept aren’t enough to win me over. In addition to this, I hated the redesign of the Daleks, as they now look too plasticky and hunchbacked (according to The Brilliant Book, that additional panel on their back conceals extra weapons, not that we saw any of these during Victory of the Daleks!). The book also reveals that the new Daleks would have been scarier if they’d had the fleshy internal eye that was originally devised for them, but this feature was felt by the production team to be too scary for kids, so it was dropped. This is quite a shame, especially as the Eknodine’s eyes in Amy’s Choice look quite similar. During an interview in the book, Steven Moffat dismisses the criticisms of the new Daleks by saying that they’re just “props”. However, many critics have just pointed out that the new Daleks look too toy-like, with the suspicion being that the redesign came about mainly from a desire to sell new Doctor Who toys. So, it would appear that Steven Moffat has discovered that you mess around with such icons at your peril, as it’s noticeable that when a new Dalek showed up in The Big Bang, it looked far more effective when covered in crud. More successful is the discussion of the work that went into recreating the Silurians, and the image featuring Millennium FX’s original concept looks suitably scary and imposing. However, this excellent piece of work had to be set aside, as the new Silurians were far more vocal than before, and so needed more flexible prosthetics that would not require a red flashing light in the forehead to indicate which of the homo reptilia were speaking at any one time.
There are many moments of great wit throughout the book. I especially liked the representation of Rory’s social networking page, and the fact that it was called ‘Twitbook’. There are also many other great details, such as the fact that someone has gone to the trouble of crediting one ‘Amelia Pond’ on the contents page with the images of the Raggedy Doctor on page 21. It’s also nice that even minor details from the series are highlighted, such as that weird portrait in Craig Owen’s hallway from The Lodger (the Brilliant Book reveals that this is none other than the Oligarch of Lammasteen). Such was the brilliant attention to detail during Series 5, that I wouldn’t be surprised if the Oligarch were to make an appearance in a future story…
There are a couple of mistakes, such as the Aplans’ home planet being named as ‘Alfalfa Metraxis’ rather than ‘Alfava Metraxis’ (however, Matt Smith did appear to say ‘Alfalfa Metraxis’ onscreen). The Brilliant Book also explicitly displays what liberties the production team took with their presentation of Vincent Van Gogh by presenting an elegantly written mini-biography of him. Then again, as Steven Moffat said in the accompanying episode of Doctor Who Confidential, the production team’s main aim was to present the essence of the artist, rather than the real man sans ear. Indeed, much like Series 5 itself, the Brilliant Book is quite educational, and provides an excellent behind-the-scenes look at the series.
This was by far the most intricate series of Doctor Who, and the Brilliant Book does a very good job at explaining aspects of the ‘crack in the universe’ story arc that might have been missed on first viewing. For instance, the book’s writers even go to the trouble of explaining River’s remark about all her encounters with the Doctor ending up with one of them in handcuffs in Flesh and Stone, as many viewers probably missed the full implications of this… The Brilliant Book also provides some tantalising teasers for events in series 6… Although it’s a shame that there wasn’t room for a mini-preview of A Christmas Carol – perhaps the festive episode will feature in next year’s Brilliant Book?
Doctor Who The Coming of the Terraphiles by Michael Moorcock review
Oct 5th
I’m rather ashamed to admit that, prior to The Coming of the Terraphiles, I’d never read a Michael Moorcock novel. The sheer body of work from this prolific author was one reason why I was afraid of tackling him. Another was due to a Michael Moorcock short story that I’d read, which seemed to be doing a million things at once, with the narrative branching off into innumerable tangents. This impression of Michael Moorcock was rather reinforced by the opening of The Coming of The Terraphiles, since the narrative also seemed to be doing a million things at once at this point. However, I persevered, as Michael Moorcock does have rather a brilliant reputation, much like the other famous writers recently attracted to Doctor Who, such as Richard Curtis and Neil Gaiman.
Michael Moorcock does appear to be very well versed in the Doctor Who universe, with various Judoon making an appearance as minor characters. Moorcock’s complex, jocular style is very fitting for Matt Smith, and so his portrait of the current Doctor is spot on. However, Michael Moorcock’s characterisation of Amy isn’t quite so good, and you get the feeling that her role here could have been played by any of the Doctor’s other companions.
While The Coming of the Terraphiles is very much fitting as a literary Doctor Who (with the plot being too complex and rambling to have ever worked on screen), it would also appear to derive much from Michael Moorcock’s previous works. Take, for instance, the mysterious figure of Captain Cornelius, who would appear to be a representation of Moorcock’s most famous character, Jerry Cornelius… The plot of The Coming of the Terraphiles is quite farcical in nature, with much turning upon the theft of a hat that rather resembles a spider… However, there is a real danger to be faced, even if the forces of antimatter seem to be quite clownish in nature… The Terraphiles themselves are fans of classic Earth (i.e. of our era) who have adopted traditional English sports, such as cricket, albeit with a few twists arising from mistakes in translation. This reminds me of a task set by an English teacher at school to depict football through the eyes of an alien, which resulted in many of us being admonished for the misapprehension of said alien that we were playing football with severed heads… Michael Moorcock can count himself fortunate that he did not have the same English teacher as me, as he gets away with several similar misapprehensions on behalf of these people from our distant future. The plot has several cliches that feature in many another Doctor Who novel. However, they’re encircled by Michael Moorcock’s own inimitable style, and once the narrative gets going, The Coming of the Terraphiles does become a very gripping read. Thus have the BBC added a most distinguished writer to their Doctor Who books (with the added aplomb of first publication in hardback format). Michael Moorcock should also have the added bonus of gaining a lot more readers for his other works following this highly successful crossover.
