One of the neat things about this short story and Venusian Lullaby
is that the end of the latter has been written to fit with the
beginning of the former, in much the same way as most of the TV serials
of the time. This probably came out of Jim Mortimore encouraging Paul
Leonard to write for Who in the first place, and then supporting him in his work; whatever, it is appreciated.
Less traditional is the opening. Events take place in two temporal
locations nine years apart, though mostly focusing on the later time of
322 BCE, and for the TARDIS crew the story starts after they've landed,
in the midst of the action, which is not something that's been seen yet.
However, that action means that - as with most Hartnell serials - some
of the main characters are separated from the ship; and again, when
people start bowing down to Barbara, it looks as if we are in for a
traditional mistaken identity story like The Thief of Sherwood, The Massacre, The Church and the Crown, or (more realistically) The Aztecs. But it isn't. This mix of Hartnell era styling and 1990s SF works to give it a pleasantly off-kilter feel.
Hmmm. Jim Mortimore, off-kilter, who'd have thought it? And look at that
date, one year after Alexander's death. Last time I commented on one of
Mortimore's stories it was predicated upon the events of Farewell, Great Macedon
happening differently. (Well, sort of.) This time, those events haven't
happened at all! Doesn't the man care about a consistent Whoniverse?!
Well, no. And quite rightly, because this is set in the era of
experimentation, and continuity porn is far in the future. Perhaps he
only does it to annoy because he knows it teases, but fair enough; and
if you're as anal as me and want to fit as much together as possible
then it's easy to adjust a couple of lines. Or you could go and write
some fanfic in which the Doctor and Barbara have an adventure that wipes
their minds of all memories of meeting Alexander. Your choice.
Oh, but on the other appendage, this is written in the era of continuity porn: we're only a few short years away from War of the Daleks,
after all. So the resolution of the story depends on a Gallifreyan
artifact mentioned in a TV story that was never made. Or rather, has
been made a number of times now, but never as originally intended. And
you're not allowed to mention the word 'Gallifrey' because this is the
1960s, so the Doctor stops reading before he gets to the name - which is
neat. And the use of the artifact implies the godlike Time Lords of the
1960s rather than the later versions. It's all jumbled up, but in a
good way.
I haven't said much about the actual story other than the beginning and
the artifact. As usual Mortimore's prose is very good, and conjures up a
clear image of the setting and characters in few words. There's plenty
of dying going on, but it lacks the pain and gore which put me off Venusian Lullaby. The way the two times fit together is satisfying, too, and the conclusion ties everything up neatly.
And yet, everything's tied up too neatly - so much so that the
story almost disappears up its own timey-wimey puzzle-box cleverness.
Which is a danger with this kind of story, as Steven Moffat's critics
will attest. This could have been another sequel to The Aztecs
with regard to the concept of interfering with history, but there simply
isn't space to develop the moral/philosophical side of the issue, or
allow the Doctor and Barbara to discuss it in any detail. Where Venusian Lullaby felt too padded, this feels like it had the potential to be so much more if it had been given some extra space to breathe.
Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed it as it stands anyway and still rate it
above average. I just think it could have been even better.
An Expanding Universe, Part 8: Decalog
Before any of the Short Trips anthologies - BBC or Big Finish - there was a home for short Who
fiction at Virgin. Three collections were published between 1994 and
1996, when the BBC withdrew the license; but two more books came out the
following year, the first based around one of the New Adventures
companions and the second open to non-Whoniverse fiction (although it
did include one story featuring another NA companion). The last was
edited by Mssrs. Mortimore and Leonard, demonstrating that their
collaboration continued beyond this one pair of stories.
The first Decalog collection is a cycle of linked tales, with an
amnesiac Doctor recovering memories of all his lives by examining
different objects. Anyone thinking "isn't that the same plot as IDW's The Forgotten?"
can give themselves a pat on the back. The details of how it pans out
are quite different, but it's basically the same idea. Rather like the
two Human Natures, in fact.
Published:
Date: 1994
ISBN: 0-426-20411-5
Rating:
6.5/10.
Next Time:
Possibly more of Susan's Tale, but more likely The Revenants.
Saturday, 16 June 2012
Monday, 11 June 2012
Virgin Missing Adventure 3: Venusian Lullaby, by Paul Leonard
Well now, this is a tricky one to rate. The opening is beautiful, almost
poetic, and gives a great sense of what the book is going to be like -
for the first two-fifths, at least. Because this book, like some of the
six- and seven-part stories of the 1970s, seems to be stretched out
beyond the length it wants to be, and has both a midstory change of
direction and an awful lot of padding.
Let's begin at the beginning, then. The novel is divided into five books, roughly corresponding to TV episodes and with each ending on a cliffhanger (with varying degrees of cliffhangerishness). It starts out slowly, almost languidly, taking time to introduce us to the Venusians. These are really alien aliens. I'd go so far as to say that Paul Leonard has pushed them about as far away from human modes of thought as he can without making it impossible for readers to empathise with them. I loved this aspect of the book, and the idea of using Barbara as a bridge of understanding (through a technique which is itself a demonstration of the Venusians' alienness) is just enough to keep a strong connection.
The three members of the TARDIS crew are well-characterised, and the writer makes very good use of the story's placement just after Susan's departure. The fact that the Doctor is attending the funeral of an old friend is thematically appropriate, and the era-standard separation from the ship (and each other) flows quite naturally out of the events here.
At this point the novel would be on for at least a 9.5 were it not for two things. First, Leonard gives us a lot of names in the original Venusian - names like Midharkhij and Barjibuhi (people), Rimikugih (a clan), Cracdhalltar (a place), ghifghoni (an animal). A few would be OK, but there's a large Venusian cast and plenty of other things given this treatment, so that the alphabetti spaghetti seems to litter the pages. It reminds me of the reams of generic fantasy novels based (oh so superficially) on Tolkien's Middle-Earth stories. I might have coped when I was young, but now I can't keep track of who's who and what's what - and I don't see why I should have to. The poetic style helps a little, but even reading it for the sound of the words rather than their meaning hits a stumbling block when so much is hard to pronounce.
The second thing is a complaint you'll recognise from previous reviews: the Doctor gets to be in control the TARDIS again. The reason given this time is that the closer they get to the beginning of the universe, the easier it is to home in on a particular point. Yeah, right, like that's gonna hold up in court.
Anyway, despite these flaws, it was still heading for a high mark. The idea of setting it on Venus three billion years in the past - when our sister planet might plausibly have supported life - works well, and there are a lot of neat touches (including an English translation of the titular lullaby, in a nod to Jon Pertwee's time). Then, two books in, we get to the arrival of the unpronounceable Sou(ou)shi. At this point the scale of the story explodes, and rather than being about the problems of the Doctor, his companions and friends, it turns into a fight for the survival of the entire population of Venus.
Now, this isn't necessarily a problem; but I was enjoying the smaller-scale plot, so I wasn't best pleased. And Leonard doesn't seem to have enough to say about the new version, because it all turns into a bit of a runaround for the next two books, with Ian, Barbara and their allies going back and forth across the landscape outside the city of Bikugih. Maybe it's another nod to the Pertwee era, this time a tribute to the escape-recapture cycles of Frontier in Space? The story also gets a lot more violent (hey, it was written in the 1990s) with various characters being tortured, sliced 'n' diced, eaten or turned into literal bloodbaths. Regular readers will know that doesn't suit me, either. There were some good aspects, but I can't say I enjoyed this part of the novel.
Things improve when we get to the final book, 'The Burning Sky Hour', and everything is resolved well. It remains pretty grim and gory, but the ending is satisfying. There are two loose threads deliberately left hanging: the Doctor is given a means of controlling the TARDIS which actually makes sense, though he can only use it for a few specific journeys; and, in terms of the villains of the piece, the seeds of a sequel are planted.
Did anything happen with these threads? At least I can give a definite 'yes' answer to the first - and soon I will be reviewing the story that follows on immediately from this one...
Published:
Date: October 1994
ISBN: 0-426-20424-7
Rating:
4.5/10. Much higher for books 1-2 and lower for books 3-4.
Next Time:
Let's just plough straight on with The Book of Shadows.
Let's begin at the beginning, then. The novel is divided into five books, roughly corresponding to TV episodes and with each ending on a cliffhanger (with varying degrees of cliffhangerishness). It starts out slowly, almost languidly, taking time to introduce us to the Venusians. These are really alien aliens. I'd go so far as to say that Paul Leonard has pushed them about as far away from human modes of thought as he can without making it impossible for readers to empathise with them. I loved this aspect of the book, and the idea of using Barbara as a bridge of understanding (through a technique which is itself a demonstration of the Venusians' alienness) is just enough to keep a strong connection.
The three members of the TARDIS crew are well-characterised, and the writer makes very good use of the story's placement just after Susan's departure. The fact that the Doctor is attending the funeral of an old friend is thematically appropriate, and the era-standard separation from the ship (and each other) flows quite naturally out of the events here.
At this point the novel would be on for at least a 9.5 were it not for two things. First, Leonard gives us a lot of names in the original Venusian - names like Midharkhij and Barjibuhi (people), Rimikugih (a clan), Cracdhalltar (a place), ghifghoni (an animal). A few would be OK, but there's a large Venusian cast and plenty of other things given this treatment, so that the alphabetti spaghetti seems to litter the pages. It reminds me of the reams of generic fantasy novels based (oh so superficially) on Tolkien's Middle-Earth stories. I might have coped when I was young, but now I can't keep track of who's who and what's what - and I don't see why I should have to. The poetic style helps a little, but even reading it for the sound of the words rather than their meaning hits a stumbling block when so much is hard to pronounce.
The second thing is a complaint you'll recognise from previous reviews: the Doctor gets to be in control the TARDIS again. The reason given this time is that the closer they get to the beginning of the universe, the easier it is to home in on a particular point. Yeah, right, like that's gonna hold up in court.
Anyway, despite these flaws, it was still heading for a high mark. The idea of setting it on Venus three billion years in the past - when our sister planet might plausibly have supported life - works well, and there are a lot of neat touches (including an English translation of the titular lullaby, in a nod to Jon Pertwee's time). Then, two books in, we get to the arrival of the unpronounceable Sou(ou)shi. At this point the scale of the story explodes, and rather than being about the problems of the Doctor, his companions and friends, it turns into a fight for the survival of the entire population of Venus.
Now, this isn't necessarily a problem; but I was enjoying the smaller-scale plot, so I wasn't best pleased. And Leonard doesn't seem to have enough to say about the new version, because it all turns into a bit of a runaround for the next two books, with Ian, Barbara and their allies going back and forth across the landscape outside the city of Bikugih. Maybe it's another nod to the Pertwee era, this time a tribute to the escape-recapture cycles of Frontier in Space? The story also gets a lot more violent (hey, it was written in the 1990s) with various characters being tortured, sliced 'n' diced, eaten or turned into literal bloodbaths. Regular readers will know that doesn't suit me, either. There were some good aspects, but I can't say I enjoyed this part of the novel.
Things improve when we get to the final book, 'The Burning Sky Hour', and everything is resolved well. It remains pretty grim and gory, but the ending is satisfying. There are two loose threads deliberately left hanging: the Doctor is given a means of controlling the TARDIS which actually makes sense, though he can only use it for a few specific journeys; and, in terms of the villains of the piece, the seeds of a sequel are planted.
Did anything happen with these threads? At least I can give a definite 'yes' answer to the first - and soon I will be reviewing the story that follows on immediately from this one...
Published:
Date: October 1994
ISBN: 0-426-20424-7
Rating:
4.5/10. Much higher for books 1-2 and lower for books 3-4.
Next Time:
Let's just plough straight on with The Book of Shadows.
Friday, 8 June 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 2
I remember I was in the wardrobe when the ship materialised. I loved
that room; it was filled with so many clothes, so many identities, all
of them far more interesting than anything I was allowed to wear on my
own planet. I once asked Grandfather what they were all for, if our
people never stepped outside their ships onto alien worlds. He
confidently told me that they were there to help get into the mood, to
feel a way into the heads of the people being observed. I could tell he
was making it up, though. He just hates - hated - being caught out not
knowing something!
I'd been trying on a long, complicated gown of vermilion and silver brocade with a kind of tall, spongy headdress. It was much too big for me and totally impractical for exploring, so I pulled it off as quickly as I could and ran for the control room. Ian and Barbara were already there, examining the scanner.
"I'm telling you, Doctor, either this thing's broken or there's nothing out there!" Mister Chesterton sounded frustrated. Again.
"Nonsense! You simply aren't using your eyes properly, young man. The focus needs a little adjustment, that's all."
I whispered to Barbara, breathlessly because of my hurried arrival. "What's going on? Where are we?"
"Somewhere hot and humid," she replied, lowering her voice too so that we wouldn't disturb the men. "The Doctor thinks we must be in a jungle, but Ian disagrees. He's sure we would be able to see some greenery, but the screen's just blank and grey."
"Could it be mist?"
"Possibly," she said, but I could tell from her tone that she doubted it. The others were getting hot under the collar, and I was fed up with them arguing all the time. Without a word I strode to the console and pushed the lever to open the main doors.
"Susan!" Ian and Barbara spoke as one, and I recognised the tone from my brief time at Coal Hill. Grandfather just glared at me.
"Well? Are any of you coming?" I strode out of the doors, the others hurrying after.
I still don't fully understand quite why I kept doing things like that. I knew Grandfather would lecture me on my impulsiveness, and I'd be contrite and promise not to act up again; after all, it had happened more than once. But I was growing up, and sometimes the urge to short-circuit pointless arguments was just too strong.
The humidity hit me as I stepped through the doors. I breathed deeply and jumped up and down a couple of times to get a feel for the place we'd landed. The air was rich in oxygen, and at a slightly greater pressure than Twentieth Century London; gravity was fractionally lower. I adjusted my autonomic responses accordingly and ran a few steps to check I'd got the balance right.
"See, Doctor? We're in an alley, and there's not a plant in sight." I turned to see Ian standing with Grandfather by the doors; Barbara was just inside, shedding her jumper.
"Raise your eyes, young man, raise your eyes. Look at that over there - that hill over there. Covered in jungle, and I should say a lot more significant than a couple of crumbling walls, hmm? No, this may be a built-up area of some sort, but I think you'll find it is a settlement set within a jungle, and it is the natural landscape that dominates."
Both teachers laughed. "Alright, Doctor," said Ian, "have it your own way."
I wandered back to the others and started to take a better look around. Barbara made a point of having to tread carefully around the rubble and grabbed Ian's arm, "for support". Honestly, the way they tiptoed around their feelings for each other frustrated me almost as much as Grandfather's baiting and the way Mister Chesterton always rose to it.
Speaking of which, it was time to distract Grandfather before he could find another reason to take umbrage, and there was an oddness to the alley that I could use. "Hey, look," I said, as brightly and enthusiastically as I could, "these walls aren't straight - they bend inwards!"
The others all turned to examine them more closely. Grandfather looked up, then down, and made a few mental calculations. "So much for your alley, Chesterton. See the curvature? Follow the line up and over. This used to be a tunnel, before the roof caved in, a little under five yards in diameter. That's why there's so much rubble all over the place."
"I think you're right, Doctor," acknowledged Ian. "The ceiling must have been pretty thin, though; it couldn't support much of a load. So why build a tunnel on the surface of the planet?"
I smiled. Grandfather loved an intellectual puzzle, and with Ian getting interested the pair of them would be working together rather than at cross purposes. For myself, I wasn't as interested in the answer as I was in keeping them happy. I just wanted a chance to explore without an argument over whether or not it was safe for Barbara and I to come along.
And because I was thinking about her in that way, it took me by surprise when Barbara joined in the investigation. "Just feel the walls," she said. "That's not plastered wood or brick."
Intrigued, I put out both my hands. The surface gave a little as I leaned against it, just a slight wobble but enough to worry Ian. "Hey, not so hard," he said, gently. "We don't want the rest of it coming down on us, do we?"
I stepped back. I wasn't annoyed - I knew it was just his way, and in any case he was considerably less over-protective than Grandfather. "It feels sort of like paper," I said. "Didn't the Japanese of your time build walls out of paper?"
I'd been looking at Ian but it was Barbara who answered. "That's right, Susan, they do; but only as partitions to divide up the living space. They are intended as symbolic barriers rather than a means of holding anything up - it's considered impolite to just walk through."
"Like breaking someone's window to get into their house," I suggested, giggling.
Ian did step in then. "Paper can be very strong, though; you just need to use enough layers. Leave the string on a rolled up newspaper, stand it on its end and it can hold quite a weight. Or interleave the pages of two thick books: you'll find them impossible to pull apart."
I loved that about humans; still do, in fact. Rather than simply working out the forces involved they come up with the most delightful demonstrations. So unnecessary, but endlessly fascinating. Grandfather was learning to do the same when he explained things to them, but I hadn't yet developed the knack. Still, it was time to seize the moment if we were going to see more of this world than one broken-down tunnel. I walked further away from the TARDIS, about halfway to the nearest junction, from where I could see a little way around the corner. "I think there's an undamaged section of tunnel over here," I called, and set off again.
"Come back here, child!" shouted Grandfather. Barbara was more realistic. "Don't go out of sight, Susan - wait at the corner 'til we get there." I smiled; disobedience gave me quite a thrill, but I knew there was a fine balance to be struck between getting them moving and making them so angry they'd shut me down. Barbara's response offered me a middle path. I waited.
"I've got half a mind to send you straight back to your room, young lady," grumbled Grandfather as he hobbled up; but he was out of breath, and the effort had taken the edge off his disapproval. As I knew it would.
"Sorry, Grandfather. But just look at this." I indicated the tunnel to the left, which was complete. We could only see a little way in because there were no artificial light sources and no ventilation holes which could let in the orange glow of this world's large, close sun. The walls were much smoother than the ones we had examined before; Grandfather and Mister Chesterton were instantly engrossed.
Barbara and I both took the opportunity to look the other way, which offered a much better view of the jungle.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, watching the distant greenery sway in the hot breeze.
"It certainly is."
"Imagine, all those thousands of trees breathing in and out, producing all this water and oxygen, then drinking it all in again, round and round, endlessly."
She looked at me, amused. "Well, I was thinking more of how it looked - all the different shades of green - and to be honest I could do with rather less water in the air, thank you very much. But yes, it is certainly remarkable."
A thought suddenly struck me. "Oh, Barbara, couldn't we go and explore the edge of the jungle? At least for a little distance?"
"I don't know, Susan; we'd have to ask the Doctor about that."
Ian walked up at that moment. "You're not going to get him away from these tunnels for quite a while yet," he said. "Still, I don't suppose there's any harm in seeing if we can pick up some food from the TARDIS. Maybe we could have a picnic on the outskirts of the settlement? With a forest view?"
"You just want an excuse to get rid of that jacket," said Barbara, prodding him companionably in the arm and giving him an I-told-you-so look. He laughed.
"That, too."
They strolled off together, leaving me calculating my next move with Grandfather. He'd gone some way into the tunnel and I ambled slowly towards him, brushing my fingers lightly along the wall as I did so. The texture was smooth but not quite even, certainly not machine-made; and as the light faded I felt more and more as if I was entering the lair of some vast, molelike creature. I listened to the echo of my footsteps - and felt, rather than heard, a faint rumbling.
"Grandfather? Did you feel that?"
"Of course I did, child! I think we'd better get back to the TARDIS. Right away." He had that tone in his voice: strong, commanding, yet afraid. I strained to see him ahead of me, and made out movement as he rose from an examination of the floor. As he did so, clinging to his cane for support, there was a louder rumble and the whole tunnel started to shake. Streamers of dust fell from the roof, and I stumbled forward.
"Susan! Go back! It's not safe!" Even as he spoke a thundering sound grew all around us. The floor cracked, tilted, and he began to slide backwards.
"Grandfather!" I screamed. Leaping towards him I grabbed onto his arm, realising as I did so that holding on would lead to me being pulled down with him. Logically, I should have let go; instead I tightened my grip, and we slid together into the darkness.
I'd been trying on a long, complicated gown of vermilion and silver brocade with a kind of tall, spongy headdress. It was much too big for me and totally impractical for exploring, so I pulled it off as quickly as I could and ran for the control room. Ian and Barbara were already there, examining the scanner.
"I'm telling you, Doctor, either this thing's broken or there's nothing out there!" Mister Chesterton sounded frustrated. Again.
"Nonsense! You simply aren't using your eyes properly, young man. The focus needs a little adjustment, that's all."
I whispered to Barbara, breathlessly because of my hurried arrival. "What's going on? Where are we?"
"Somewhere hot and humid," she replied, lowering her voice too so that we wouldn't disturb the men. "The Doctor thinks we must be in a jungle, but Ian disagrees. He's sure we would be able to see some greenery, but the screen's just blank and grey."
"Could it be mist?"
"Possibly," she said, but I could tell from her tone that she doubted it. The others were getting hot under the collar, and I was fed up with them arguing all the time. Without a word I strode to the console and pushed the lever to open the main doors.
"Susan!" Ian and Barbara spoke as one, and I recognised the tone from my brief time at Coal Hill. Grandfather just glared at me.
"Well? Are any of you coming?" I strode out of the doors, the others hurrying after.
I still don't fully understand quite why I kept doing things like that. I knew Grandfather would lecture me on my impulsiveness, and I'd be contrite and promise not to act up again; after all, it had happened more than once. But I was growing up, and sometimes the urge to short-circuit pointless arguments was just too strong.
The humidity hit me as I stepped through the doors. I breathed deeply and jumped up and down a couple of times to get a feel for the place we'd landed. The air was rich in oxygen, and at a slightly greater pressure than Twentieth Century London; gravity was fractionally lower. I adjusted my autonomic responses accordingly and ran a few steps to check I'd got the balance right.
"See, Doctor? We're in an alley, and there's not a plant in sight." I turned to see Ian standing with Grandfather by the doors; Barbara was just inside, shedding her jumper.
"Raise your eyes, young man, raise your eyes. Look at that over there - that hill over there. Covered in jungle, and I should say a lot more significant than a couple of crumbling walls, hmm? No, this may be a built-up area of some sort, but I think you'll find it is a settlement set within a jungle, and it is the natural landscape that dominates."
Both teachers laughed. "Alright, Doctor," said Ian, "have it your own way."
I wandered back to the others and started to take a better look around. Barbara made a point of having to tread carefully around the rubble and grabbed Ian's arm, "for support". Honestly, the way they tiptoed around their feelings for each other frustrated me almost as much as Grandfather's baiting and the way Mister Chesterton always rose to it.
Speaking of which, it was time to distract Grandfather before he could find another reason to take umbrage, and there was an oddness to the alley that I could use. "Hey, look," I said, as brightly and enthusiastically as I could, "these walls aren't straight - they bend inwards!"
The others all turned to examine them more closely. Grandfather looked up, then down, and made a few mental calculations. "So much for your alley, Chesterton. See the curvature? Follow the line up and over. This used to be a tunnel, before the roof caved in, a little under five yards in diameter. That's why there's so much rubble all over the place."
"I think you're right, Doctor," acknowledged Ian. "The ceiling must have been pretty thin, though; it couldn't support much of a load. So why build a tunnel on the surface of the planet?"
I smiled. Grandfather loved an intellectual puzzle, and with Ian getting interested the pair of them would be working together rather than at cross purposes. For myself, I wasn't as interested in the answer as I was in keeping them happy. I just wanted a chance to explore without an argument over whether or not it was safe for Barbara and I to come along.
And because I was thinking about her in that way, it took me by surprise when Barbara joined in the investigation. "Just feel the walls," she said. "That's not plastered wood or brick."
Intrigued, I put out both my hands. The surface gave a little as I leaned against it, just a slight wobble but enough to worry Ian. "Hey, not so hard," he said, gently. "We don't want the rest of it coming down on us, do we?"
I stepped back. I wasn't annoyed - I knew it was just his way, and in any case he was considerably less over-protective than Grandfather. "It feels sort of like paper," I said. "Didn't the Japanese of your time build walls out of paper?"
I'd been looking at Ian but it was Barbara who answered. "That's right, Susan, they do; but only as partitions to divide up the living space. They are intended as symbolic barriers rather than a means of holding anything up - it's considered impolite to just walk through."
"Like breaking someone's window to get into their house," I suggested, giggling.
Ian did step in then. "Paper can be very strong, though; you just need to use enough layers. Leave the string on a rolled up newspaper, stand it on its end and it can hold quite a weight. Or interleave the pages of two thick books: you'll find them impossible to pull apart."
I loved that about humans; still do, in fact. Rather than simply working out the forces involved they come up with the most delightful demonstrations. So unnecessary, but endlessly fascinating. Grandfather was learning to do the same when he explained things to them, but I hadn't yet developed the knack. Still, it was time to seize the moment if we were going to see more of this world than one broken-down tunnel. I walked further away from the TARDIS, about halfway to the nearest junction, from where I could see a little way around the corner. "I think there's an undamaged section of tunnel over here," I called, and set off again.
"Come back here, child!" shouted Grandfather. Barbara was more realistic. "Don't go out of sight, Susan - wait at the corner 'til we get there." I smiled; disobedience gave me quite a thrill, but I knew there was a fine balance to be struck between getting them moving and making them so angry they'd shut me down. Barbara's response offered me a middle path. I waited.
"I've got half a mind to send you straight back to your room, young lady," grumbled Grandfather as he hobbled up; but he was out of breath, and the effort had taken the edge off his disapproval. As I knew it would.
"Sorry, Grandfather. But just look at this." I indicated the tunnel to the left, which was complete. We could only see a little way in because there were no artificial light sources and no ventilation holes which could let in the orange glow of this world's large, close sun. The walls were much smoother than the ones we had examined before; Grandfather and Mister Chesterton were instantly engrossed.
Barbara and I both took the opportunity to look the other way, which offered a much better view of the jungle.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, watching the distant greenery sway in the hot breeze.
"It certainly is."
"Imagine, all those thousands of trees breathing in and out, producing all this water and oxygen, then drinking it all in again, round and round, endlessly."
She looked at me, amused. "Well, I was thinking more of how it looked - all the different shades of green - and to be honest I could do with rather less water in the air, thank you very much. But yes, it is certainly remarkable."
A thought suddenly struck me. "Oh, Barbara, couldn't we go and explore the edge of the jungle? At least for a little distance?"
"I don't know, Susan; we'd have to ask the Doctor about that."
Ian walked up at that moment. "You're not going to get him away from these tunnels for quite a while yet," he said. "Still, I don't suppose there's any harm in seeing if we can pick up some food from the TARDIS. Maybe we could have a picnic on the outskirts of the settlement? With a forest view?"
"You just want an excuse to get rid of that jacket," said Barbara, prodding him companionably in the arm and giving him an I-told-you-so look. He laughed.
"That, too."
They strolled off together, leaving me calculating my next move with Grandfather. He'd gone some way into the tunnel and I ambled slowly towards him, brushing my fingers lightly along the wall as I did so. The texture was smooth but not quite even, certainly not machine-made; and as the light faded I felt more and more as if I was entering the lair of some vast, molelike creature. I listened to the echo of my footsteps - and felt, rather than heard, a faint rumbling.
"Grandfather? Did you feel that?"
"Of course I did, child! I think we'd better get back to the TARDIS. Right away." He had that tone in his voice: strong, commanding, yet afraid. I strained to see him ahead of me, and made out movement as he rose from an examination of the floor. As he did so, clinging to his cane for support, there was a louder rumble and the whole tunnel started to shake. Streamers of dust fell from the roof, and I stumbled forward.
"Susan! Go back! It's not safe!" Even as he spoke a thundering sound grew all around us. The floor cracked, tilted, and he began to slide backwards.
"Grandfather!" I screamed. Leaping towards him I grabbed onto his arm, realising as I did so that holding on would lead to me being pulled down with him. Logically, I should have let go; instead I tightened my grip, and we slid together into the darkness.
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday to You,
Happy Birthday to You,
Happy Birthday Dear Elv Who?,
Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday to You,
Happy Birthday Dear Elv Who?,
Happy Birthday to You!
Don't sing that out loud - it's copyrighted, which is probably why they sing a different birthday song on CBeebies - but this blog (and marathon) is a year old today. 114 posts to date! That includes the extras like the recent one on upcoming events, but I'm still averaging two review entries a week, which is pretty good.
And what do you know? The blog's received a birthday present! Big Finish and DWM have released a new William Russell audio set in the Susan-Vicki gap, so I'll be reviewing that very soon. It only cost £4.50, and came with a free magazine.
Oh, go on then. You can sing the song if you want.
Next Time:
To celebrate, In a few minutes I'm going to completely ignore what I said in the aforementioned "upcoming" post and give you the next part of Susan's Tale.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 1
It was the fever that did it. The fever, and a careless remark from David.
This was just a year or so after the defeat of the main Dalek force in England, and we'd all been working hard to bring some order back to a devastated land. We were in regular communication with other parts of the world - restoring civilisation required a global effort - but there was so much to be done here that most of our time was spent concentrating on our immediate needs. I'd studied Earth's ecology but didn't have a feel for it like the people who'd grown up here, so it didn't make sense for me to help with food production. Instead, I concentrated on areas where my background could make a real difference: getting the infrastructure up and running again. Power generation, communications, sanitation. I remembered talking to Barbara about the Great Fire of London, and how the destruction allowed so many new things to be done that had been impossible before. This was another opportunity to put things back together in a better way!
It had taken a while to persuade people to listen to a young woman, even one who had been so involved with the defeat of the Daleks. Once they did, though, things took off in a big way. I wasn't an expert, but I was able to provide a perspective they couldn't simply because of where I came from. Sometimes I wondered what Grandfather would say. Wasn't this interfering in history? And then I'd remember how much we all did to give humanity a future, and I'd laugh at myself.
My thoughts and feelings were like that at the time, switching from one state to another a hundred, a thousand times a day. David and I were very much in love, with a fire and warmth that gave everything a kind of fuzzy glow, a deep-down, unshakable happiness that made me feel very secure. I would often think about Grandfather, though, and wish he were here with me as well. We'd been travelling together for such a long time! I was only a girl when we... when we set out. And then there was the devastation all around, the suffering and misery. What kind of a world was this to live in? You'd look into one face and see hope, then pain in the next, then determination. Nothing was stable. Except for what I had with David.
I think that time was harder on him than the war had been. Poor David, all he really wanted was to settle down on a farm somewhere and raise crops. First it had been Tyler and some of the others in the resistance, pushing him forward as a figurehead, a symbol of the revolution, someone who could give people hope again. It worked, too; partly because of his youth and vigour and partly because of his personality. He was the right man for the job. He knew it, and his sense of duty kept him from running for the hills. After a while he could have given it up, once the recovery effort began in earnest. But he didn't.
He stayed for me.
Oh, I'd have gone with him if he asked me, settled down on a farm somewhere; of course I would. But by then I was involved in all sorts of projects, and he could see that I was in my element. Was it selfish of me to let him do that? Perhaps, but it was probably more a case of my mind being too focused on our goals for the world rather than our own lives. I can see now that he made sure the subject never came up in conversation.
He was very clear about one thing, though: he wanted children. Which was a problem, because we weren't even of the same species, and I didn't consider Earth in that time a suitable place to raise them anyway.
I'd been avoiding the question for months when, quite suddenly, I found myself laid up in bed, almost delirious with fever. It wouldn't have surprised me if David had caught something, because his role kept him circulating around various groups and there was a lot of disease in London at the time. Nothing to do with the Daleks' bioengineered plagues, though many of the surviving humans worried that it was some kind of doomsday weapon left behind to punish us; no, this was simply due to a lack of clean water. But my body should have been immune to Earthborn viruses and bacteria.
However it happened, I lost a whole day to those tiny invaders. Faces flitted in and out of focus, some real, some long gone: I remember seeing Dyoni, and wondering when she'd left Skaro; Ping-Cho was there, and so was a female metaxi. The evening David came rushing in - he'd obviously just heard about me - and that's when he said it.
"Hang on in there, Susan, you're going to be fine! The Doctor's on the way."
My eyes opened wide and I stared at him in incomprehension. "Grandfather?" I mumbled, but before I even spoke he'd realised his mistake. He reached across the bed and wrapped his arms around me.
"Sorry love, that was stupid of me. I was talking about Doctor Renwick, from the camp, you know? I - I didn't mean..."
I shushed him with a finger and a smile, and we held each other while my heart broke all over again. It's strange how illness can magnify emotions, so much like the change from child to woman; and my mind drifted back again to that turbulent time, travelling with Ian, Barbara - and Grandfather...
This was just a year or so after the defeat of the main Dalek force in England, and we'd all been working hard to bring some order back to a devastated land. We were in regular communication with other parts of the world - restoring civilisation required a global effort - but there was so much to be done here that most of our time was spent concentrating on our immediate needs. I'd studied Earth's ecology but didn't have a feel for it like the people who'd grown up here, so it didn't make sense for me to help with food production. Instead, I concentrated on areas where my background could make a real difference: getting the infrastructure up and running again. Power generation, communications, sanitation. I remembered talking to Barbara about the Great Fire of London, and how the destruction allowed so many new things to be done that had been impossible before. This was another opportunity to put things back together in a better way!
It had taken a while to persuade people to listen to a young woman, even one who had been so involved with the defeat of the Daleks. Once they did, though, things took off in a big way. I wasn't an expert, but I was able to provide a perspective they couldn't simply because of where I came from. Sometimes I wondered what Grandfather would say. Wasn't this interfering in history? And then I'd remember how much we all did to give humanity a future, and I'd laugh at myself.
My thoughts and feelings were like that at the time, switching from one state to another a hundred, a thousand times a day. David and I were very much in love, with a fire and warmth that gave everything a kind of fuzzy glow, a deep-down, unshakable happiness that made me feel very secure. I would often think about Grandfather, though, and wish he were here with me as well. We'd been travelling together for such a long time! I was only a girl when we... when we set out. And then there was the devastation all around, the suffering and misery. What kind of a world was this to live in? You'd look into one face and see hope, then pain in the next, then determination. Nothing was stable. Except for what I had with David.
I think that time was harder on him than the war had been. Poor David, all he really wanted was to settle down on a farm somewhere and raise crops. First it had been Tyler and some of the others in the resistance, pushing him forward as a figurehead, a symbol of the revolution, someone who could give people hope again. It worked, too; partly because of his youth and vigour and partly because of his personality. He was the right man for the job. He knew it, and his sense of duty kept him from running for the hills. After a while he could have given it up, once the recovery effort began in earnest. But he didn't.
He stayed for me.
Oh, I'd have gone with him if he asked me, settled down on a farm somewhere; of course I would. But by then I was involved in all sorts of projects, and he could see that I was in my element. Was it selfish of me to let him do that? Perhaps, but it was probably more a case of my mind being too focused on our goals for the world rather than our own lives. I can see now that he made sure the subject never came up in conversation.
He was very clear about one thing, though: he wanted children. Which was a problem, because we weren't even of the same species, and I didn't consider Earth in that time a suitable place to raise them anyway.
I'd been avoiding the question for months when, quite suddenly, I found myself laid up in bed, almost delirious with fever. It wouldn't have surprised me if David had caught something, because his role kept him circulating around various groups and there was a lot of disease in London at the time. Nothing to do with the Daleks' bioengineered plagues, though many of the surviving humans worried that it was some kind of doomsday weapon left behind to punish us; no, this was simply due to a lack of clean water. But my body should have been immune to Earthborn viruses and bacteria.
However it happened, I lost a whole day to those tiny invaders. Faces flitted in and out of focus, some real, some long gone: I remember seeing Dyoni, and wondering when she'd left Skaro; Ping-Cho was there, and so was a female metaxi. The evening David came rushing in - he'd obviously just heard about me - and that's when he said it.
"Hang on in there, Susan, you're going to be fine! The Doctor's on the way."
My eyes opened wide and I stared at him in incomprehension. "Grandfather?" I mumbled, but before I even spoke he'd realised his mistake. He reached across the bed and wrapped his arms around me.
"Sorry love, that was stupid of me. I was talking about Doctor Renwick, from the camp, you know? I - I didn't mean..."
I shushed him with a finger and a smile, and we held each other while my heart broke all over again. It's strange how illness can magnify emotions, so much like the change from child to woman; and my mind drifted back again to that turbulent time, travelling with Ian, Barbara - and Grandfather...
Upcoming
I'll be posting a new entry soon, which is the first thousand words of a
short story featuring Susan. I hope to write some fiction for each
departing companion, but it may depend on inspiration and time (I
currently only have ideas for Jamie, Liz and Tegan, none of which are
going to be of any use for several years). I've not written fanfic
before, except for one short story set in the Traveller universe, which is a slightly different situation; so I don't really know how it'll go. I do
know that I am not a fast writer, partly because I prioritise my
family, partly because I fret too much about the words I'm choosing and
tinker with them well beyond the point of diminishing returns.
Because of this, upcoming entries may be in a slightly odd order and with longer-than-usual gaps. After the first part of the story there will be a break for half term holidays, then probably a review of Venusian Lullaby followed by the second part of the story - but it all depends on available reading and writing time. We're going walking with wolves for my daughter's birthday treat, I need to do some preparation for my maths booster groups at the local school, and my wife is on shift six days running when we get home from the wolf trip so I'll also be looking after everyone even more than usual.
Your patience is appreciated - have fun!
Because of this, upcoming entries may be in a slightly odd order and with longer-than-usual gaps. After the first part of the story there will be a break for half term holidays, then probably a review of Venusian Lullaby followed by the second part of the story - but it all depends on available reading and writing time. We're going walking with wolves for my daughter's birthday treat, I need to do some preparation for my maths booster groups at the local school, and my wife is on shift six days running when we get home from the wolf trip so I'll also be looking after everyone even more than usual.
Your patience is appreciated - have fun!
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Whatever Happened to Susan?
There are a number of ways of looking at this question. Let's start with perhaps the most literal.
Whatever Happened to Susan Foreman?
Back on 9th July 1994, Radio 4 broadcast a half-hour spoof documentary with this title, purporting to examine the disappearance of a schoolgirl and two of her teachers in 1963. Thanks to the Dalek Invasion of Earth DVD, I got to hear it in 2006 - and again just now. I could also have got it on a CD, Doctor Who at the BBC vol. 3, or caught one of its radio repeats.
This sort of thing is often done by people who judge a subject though the filter of common knowledge (which would have been largely negative at the time, when a more commonly-asked question might have been "whatever happened to Doctor Who?") but here the writer, Adrian Mourby, obviously knows his subject (mention of Zarbi notwithstanding) and seems to have a fondness for it too. I say "seems to" because it is fairly brutal in its parody - but its targets are mostly those that fans themselves skewer, like the Doctor abandoning Susan with a bloke she's only just met. The program is quite an odd beast, fairly evenly divided between targeting the more ludicrous aspects of the show and of modern life. The central conceit of looking at the events of the program from the parents' nightmare perspective of possible child abduction works surprisingly well, but this premise isn't enough to fill half an hour. The main cast - Jane Asher as Susan, James Grout (of Morse fame; I recognised his voice straight away) as Ian and Someone Else as the interviewer - play it mostly straight-faced, and this helps to keep things grounded; but this is undercut by the aliens working for the E.U. in Brussels.
It's hard to judge how to rate this, because it's only a Who story in the broadest sense; so I'll pluck a very off-the-cuff 3/10 from the ether and move on to my next version of the question.
Whatever Happened to Carole Ann Ford?
I remember Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?, but only vaguely - except for the theme song, which is as clear as anything. I may cover it in more detail in a later story - possibly during the fifth Doctor's era - but for now I only bring it up because of the title, and the fact that Ford appeared in an episode. Which was one of only a handful of TV and film appearances after her time on Who, partly because she kept being typecast as a teenager; and Ford concentrated on theatre work until 1977, when she suffered a back injury and reacted badly to the medication given. Since her second daughter (Tara-Louise, who appears in Quinnis) was born the same year, she decided to retire (for the most part) from acting and focus on her family. She has since become a voice and presentation coach, though she is still involved in Who on audio.
Whatever Happened to the Unearthly Child?
Now, this is a more retrospective question; and one we've tackled several times before, most notably here and here. I don't want to go over too much old ground, so I'll briefly pass the baton to Isaac for the ten-year-old viewpoint:
In books, my favourite was (obviously) The Time Travellers - but the best part for Susan has to be in Time and Relative. There's not much choice for short stories as most of them focus so heavily on other characters, so I'll go with The Exiles; and there are no comics that I would consider. Her best audio has to be Quinnis.
It's obvious in all this that the latest story in her timeline among these picks is An Unearthly Child! If I disallowed the pre-season-1 stories, I could still happily pick The Sorcerer's Apprentice in books and Here There Be Monsters in audio, but I'll lose the short story category.
Whatever Happened to Susan Campbell?
Of course, Susan's fictional journey doesn't end here, either. She makes some minor appearances over the years - the highest profile being in The Five Doctors - before she catches up with her grandfather more properly in the eighth Doctor's era. With some companions I may cover their future lives at their departure point, but this time I don't feel the need. If this marathon lasts long enough we'll see her again...
Next Time:
Something completely different; but if it takes too long there'll be a half-term holiday break.
Whatever Happened to Susan Foreman?
Back on 9th July 1994, Radio 4 broadcast a half-hour spoof documentary with this title, purporting to examine the disappearance of a schoolgirl and two of her teachers in 1963. Thanks to the Dalek Invasion of Earth DVD, I got to hear it in 2006 - and again just now. I could also have got it on a CD, Doctor Who at the BBC vol. 3, or caught one of its radio repeats.
This sort of thing is often done by people who judge a subject though the filter of common knowledge (which would have been largely negative at the time, when a more commonly-asked question might have been "whatever happened to Doctor Who?") but here the writer, Adrian Mourby, obviously knows his subject (mention of Zarbi notwithstanding) and seems to have a fondness for it too. I say "seems to" because it is fairly brutal in its parody - but its targets are mostly those that fans themselves skewer, like the Doctor abandoning Susan with a bloke she's only just met. The program is quite an odd beast, fairly evenly divided between targeting the more ludicrous aspects of the show and of modern life. The central conceit of looking at the events of the program from the parents' nightmare perspective of possible child abduction works surprisingly well, but this premise isn't enough to fill half an hour. The main cast - Jane Asher as Susan, James Grout (of Morse fame; I recognised his voice straight away) as Ian and Someone Else as the interviewer - play it mostly straight-faced, and this helps to keep things grounded; but this is undercut by the aliens working for the E.U. in Brussels.
It's hard to judge how to rate this, because it's only a Who story in the broadest sense; so I'll pluck a very off-the-cuff 3/10 from the ether and move on to my next version of the question.
Whatever Happened to Carole Ann Ford?
I remember Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?, but only vaguely - except for the theme song, which is as clear as anything. I may cover it in more detail in a later story - possibly during the fifth Doctor's era - but for now I only bring it up because of the title, and the fact that Ford appeared in an episode. Which was one of only a handful of TV and film appearances after her time on Who, partly because she kept being typecast as a teenager; and Ford concentrated on theatre work until 1977, when she suffered a back injury and reacted badly to the medication given. Since her second daughter (Tara-Louise, who appears in Quinnis) was born the same year, she decided to retire (for the most part) from acting and focus on her family. She has since become a voice and presentation coach, though she is still involved in Who on audio.
Whatever Happened to the Unearthly Child?
Now, this is a more retrospective question; and one we've tackled several times before, most notably here and here. I don't want to go over too much old ground, so I'll briefly pass the baton to Isaac for the ten-year-old viewpoint:
Isaac's CornerOK, back with Isaac's dad again, and that prompts me to take a brief look at some of the high points of her (fictional) journey so far. On TV, she started really well with my only 10/10 episode so far, An Unearthly Child, and to be honest I can't think of an episode that is better for her - close behind would be The Edge of Destruction, and although I agree with Isaac that Susan's exploits in The Sensorites were a highlight, they were spread too thinly to counter the generally poorer quality of the episodes overall.
Carole Ann Ford did a very good job of playing Susan, acting her as she was told to even though it wasn't what she expected it to be like. Susan mostly seemed to be there to hurt herself (e.g., twisting her ankle) so that she had to be rescued. I liked the bit in The Sensorites when she finally got to be what she was supposed to, and that's probably the best story for her although that's not the best story she was in (which was either The Daleks or The Keys of Marinus).
In books, my favourite was (obviously) The Time Travellers - but the best part for Susan has to be in Time and Relative. There's not much choice for short stories as most of them focus so heavily on other characters, so I'll go with The Exiles; and there are no comics that I would consider. Her best audio has to be Quinnis.
It's obvious in all this that the latest story in her timeline among these picks is An Unearthly Child! If I disallowed the pre-season-1 stories, I could still happily pick The Sorcerer's Apprentice in books and Here There Be Monsters in audio, but I'll lose the short story category.
Whatever Happened to Susan Campbell?
Of course, Susan's fictional journey doesn't end here, either. She makes some minor appearances over the years - the highest profile being in The Five Doctors - before she catches up with her grandfather more properly in the eighth Doctor's era. With some companions I may cover their future lives at their departure point, but this time I don't feel the need. If this marathon lasts long enough we'll see her again...
Next Time:
Something completely different; but if it takes too long there'll be a half-term holiday break.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)