We're back with Tara Samms, one of Stephen Cole's pseudonyms; and, like Frayed,
this is quite an odd little story. The prose is strong, and what I
might call the framing premise is powerful: Barbara has a medical
diagnosis confirmed (presumably cancer, though it's not stated so could
be something else equally serious) and has to decide how much to tell
Ian, as well as when.
Now the thing is, Jacqueline Hill died of cancer in February 1993:
almost exactly ten years before this collection came out. She was one of
the great losses of the wilderness years so this has a resonance,
enhancing the poignancy of the story; but there's also a question of
taste. What the death of actors means for their characters is a tricky
issue, and with the two highest-profile recent deaths the show has
chosen opposite approaches. It is made clear that Sarah Jane carries on
her investigations despite the passing of Elisabeth Sladen, whereas the
Brigadier and Nicholas Courtney died together. Both have, I feel, been
handled with respect, and to me that's what matters.
Samms treats Barbara's impending death with respect too. As a result, it
feels like a tribute to a great actress rather than a cheap trick to
gain an emotional response. I called this a framing premise, however,
because it's wrapped around (and entwined with) a scifi plot; and this
is where the story starts to come apart for me.
The thing is - and I know I've used that phrase before - it's an
entirely unremarkable SF plot. There's an alien using human bodies for
its own ends, without caring about what happens to the hosts or the
people in their lives. Been there, done that - and so have Iananbarbara.
Ian, in fact, sorts it out in a handful of paragraphs. But there's one
character - the daughter of a human the alien has used up - who is
having difficulty coming to terms with the death of her father. And she
is completely sidelined by the story, the focus pulling straight back
onto Barbara's predicament, no more than a reflection that helps Barbara
come to a decision.
Flashback to the morning of 17th July 1982: my 18th birthday. We are
supposed to be away on holiday now, but yesterday we had to cut it short
and come home because my dad wasn't feeling well. He has cancer - has
had it for a long time, among other problems, though nobody has thought
to tell me. So when I wake up I find he has been taken into hospital, again.
This time he never comes out; a fortnight later, he is dead. That same
day I drive the car off the road, unaware that I have no insurance since
I am now the named driver of a corpse, and apparently corpses can't be
insured to drive.
I am that confused, not-yet-grieving-really child, and I don't
appreciate being ignored. It feels a callous move on Samms' part, and
while the writer in me says that to keep the focus off Barbara makes no
sense at this point, it still hurts.
I may have mentioned my dad's death before in this blog. It's a
transformative moment for me, coming as it does just after leaving Sixth
Form and less than two months before I go to University, to live away
from home for the first time. It divides my life into 'before' and
'after'. Sometimes it still bites me.
As I said, there's a question of taste. And it's not for me to judge
whether I've just used my own, personal tragedy for a cheap emotional
response...
Published:
Date: March 2003
ISBN: 1-84435-006-1
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
We join an older Ian for a visit to The Cave of Five Hundred Skulls...
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