Surprisingly, this is going to be a three-part Companion Chronicle review, and again I've made up my own episode titles. Do let me know what you think, and feel free to offer your own alternatives!
The framing story here is painted in broad brushstrokes. It's set earlier in the post-Dalek Invasion world than Quinnis - Susan is hiding her lack of ageing from husband David and they are still childless. It does the job, and offers one mystery: who is she talking to?
The early part of the story suffers from one major problem for me: the author, Andy Lane, feels the urge to fill in lots of details about the Doctor and Susan's past. Sometimes this works, but even when it does it feels like it's closing off possibilities for the sake of throwaway lines. For instance, explaining that the Doctor left their homeworld to experience wonders and that Susan was an accidental passenger is fine, but it's not a fact that's central enough to the plot to eliminate the idea of Susan's presence being planned. Similarly, the explanation that the TARDIS is not faulty and their problems are caused because the Doctor doesn't know how to control the craft makes sense - but works better through implication than exposition. And as for Susan having a perfect memory - well I'm sorry, but although it's very good she is exaggerating somewhat. We also learn that she is older than Iananbarbara put together, which may be true chronologically but only goes to show that humans gather life experience quicker; and that the Doctor is no more than an adolescent, which is just plain ridiculous unless he's been artificially aged in an unseen (and unsuspected) pre-series-1 adventure.
Moving swiftly on, the opening of the main story is very 1964. Something mysterious is happening to the TARDIS (which would have worked as a cliffhanger to end the previous episode), and then there is discussion of where they have landed. There are some nice touches here, particularly the Doctor hesitating as part of him wants to leave the teachers behind and continue the journey with just Susan, and his sparring with Ian. The latter, of course, opens up the question of when this story takes place. Unless this is a throwback (like the lead-in to The Reign of Terror), of course; and to be honest there's no better place to put it than here.
At this point I must break off to mention the soundscape. The jungle sounds and background music are very good - not exactly of the time, but certainly appropriate to the story. It really helps with the atmosphere.
And so, as the crew move away from the TARDIS, we enter the alien world of Earth Benchmarking Vessel Nevermore. I imagine it in black and white, a kind of mix between The Sensorites and The Screaming Jungle, particularly when the plants go for the control panel. This impression lasts until we meet Captain Rostrum, who isn't really the sort of character who could be realised on TV at the time. This is not a criticism of Lane, as he's not writing for television; indeed, Rostrum is what really makes this episode fun for me. He represents a truly bonkers idea, and it's a tribute to writer, cast (well, Carole Ann Ford) and crew that he works anyway. Some of the discussion felt slightly odd - for instance, are they really punching holes every tenth of a light year? That would mean they could place over 600,000 markers in a cube centred on Earth without reaching another star! Still, given the historic confusion between stellar systems, galaxies and the universe in Who, that's a fairly minor quibble. And I enjoyed the debate anyway.
Some might say there was too much talking, but I don't mind at all - and it did give a reason for Susan to wander off. Although this was overdone in later years, it hadn't yet become a habit; and Lane manages to tie it into her development.
The peril level goes up a notch as Susan encounters the mysterious crewman who advises her to make her own decisions, to stretch her wings - and then she starts to feel weak and dizzy as we approach the cliffhanger. But I'll postpone a discussion of that until episode 2's review.
The pacing is particularly good in this episode, building nicely to a climax that left me wanting more.
Rating:
7/10.
Next Time:
Stick around for episode 2.
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Monday, 27 February 2012
Short Trips, A Universe of Terrors 6.02: Mire and Clay, by Gareth Wigmore
| You know, I've got a strange feeling I've had déjà vu before. This time, it's because there are a number of similarities with the recent (chronologically - they're actually published five years apart) short trip The Last Days. Again, we join the story partway through; again the focus is on Ian, though this time that focus is even tighter; again we have the pretence that Barbara is Ian's wife; and again I found what the author did to Ian to be very cruel. What is it about Ian that invites this sort of treatment? He's such a nice young man it feels a bit like kicking a puppy. But then, maybe that's got something to do with it: writing nice people as Action Heroes is a bit of a strange thing to do anyway, and perhaps authors are drawn to pushing at the boundaries of two incompatible archetypes. And, to be fair, he's certainly not the worst-treated Hartnell companion. Still, Ian's handling here - in particular the way he is made to behave during his rescue - does feel... unnecessary. He says he'd never hurt anyone before entering the TARDIS, which makes me wonder what his role during his National Service was, especially since he spent an unhappy time in Korea according to one story. (For those who don't know, after the Second World War the draft was halted; but two years later it was reinstated for men, and in 1950 Britain got involved in the war in Korea - a disastrous move for the economy - prompting an increase in the duration of service from 18 months to two years. The last men entered National Service in 1960, and left in 1963.) OK, I've limited the spoilers to this paragraph, so skip to the next if you don't want to find out a key detail. Still here? OK. The action I mentioned above - where Ian gives in to his desire for revenge - reminded me of the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode Chain of Command, part II, and in particular the final scene with Picard talking to Troi. In each case it's a more realistic take on what happens when people are pushed to the limit than we often get, contradicting the untouchable hero image. That's good, and - having taken Ian to that point - I applaud where Wigmore went with it. What I don't like is that he took our hero there in the first place. That's enough about Ian: let's talk about the setting. Good grief, we Brits just can't leave Afghanistan alone, can we? When I first read where it was set, I thought "aha! This is the conflict which Doctor Watson returned from shortly before meeting Sherlock Holmes!" Not so. When I thought about the date I realised it was too early. This war, in 1842, is due to be followed by another less than 38 years later (the one involving the original John Watson). Then another, 39 years after that one. You could almost set your watch. The next one should have happened just before the end of National Service but was delayed, probably because Britain was no longer in a position to engage in quite so much Imperialism; so it wasn't until well into the current thirtysomething-year conflict that we got significantly involved. Just as well we did, though, otherwise Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss couldn't have had their modern Watson coming back from Afghanistan to meet Benedict Cumberpatch! </irony> Getting back to 1842, I have to say that vile villain Gul Zaheer has a bad case of the stereotypes. Stereotyping is a useful enough tool, but I think it behooves writers to be careful of such things - particularly when we have an ongoing conflict. Still, I've learned a new word - feringhee - which apparently is an insulting term for "European"; and that's another link back to Star Trek. I'll never look at Quark in quite the same way again. This is getting long and time is getting short, so I'll quickly run through a few final points. The other members of the TARDIS crew are only there to react to Ian. Susan is almost invisible, but the others have at least a little to do. The Doctor apologises for putting Ian into these situations, which is a remarkable statement: not so long ago it would have felt wrong, but here - given everything that's happened - it is surprising but right. Barbara's open displays of affection, however, still feel a bit too much; as does mention of the TARDIS translation circuits. These are both intrusions from a future perspective, which is sometimes fine but grates here. It's hard to say why; perhaps I was just in the wrong mood. In contrast, the way the crew are separated from the TARDIS is classic, and completely of the time. I think it's fair to say that this story wasn't written for me. There's nothing wrong with it in any objective sense, but I just didn't enjoy it for most of the time. Published: Date: June 2003 ISBN: 1-84435-008-8 Rating: 3.5/10. Next Time: Forward, and into audio for Here There Be Monsters. |
Friday, 24 February 2012
Short Trips and Side Steps 3.04: Nothing at the End of the Lane, by Daniel O'Mahony
Spoilers ahoy! Here's a three-part short story, and I almost split up my review accordingly; but I didn't have quite enough to say...
Part One: The Valiant Woman
"These are the last days." So thinks Barbara Wright, on a bus to her job at Coal Hill School in 1963, travelling across the ruins of a dying London in the future, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of Jewish rebels trapped in Masada in 72AD. She has these episodes, you see, where she can't tell what is real and what is... something else.
Still, she manages to get to school, and with enough time to tidy herself up. She briefly encounters Ian Chesterton, a man she has pigeonholed as liberal - "wrong but romantic", quoting the immortal words of Messrs. Sellar and Yeatman, historians extraordinaire. Though they applied the phrase to the Cavaliers; and it makes one wonder how she sees herself: a conservative Roundhead, "Wright but repulsive", perhaps?
She makes it through the school day, just, but not without cost. A contretemps with class weirdo Susan Foreman involving decimalisation, dollars and cents (and why did the author have to bring US currency into it?) leads to her investigating her pupil's home. A policeman directs her to Totter's Lane, she finds and enters the junkyard, approaches a Police Telephone Box which is humming - and it becomes clear that her viewpoint is that of the camera in the opening scene of An Unearthly Child, and of the show as a whole.
So far, so good. If it weren't for the "episodes", this could be a fleshing out of Barbara's life in the time leading up to her conversation with Ian in the scenes following that fog-filled beginning.
Part Two: The Watchers on the Walls
But she is having episodes - appropriately named, too, since they are effectively adventures (though of a more horrific sort than we got to see on TV) - and she has one right at the beginning of the second part. It's disorientating, which is good, and then she has dinner with Ian. More background-filling. And after he's gone, a nightmare. Back to school for a book being requested by the class weirdo, and we have caught up with the next scene.
The back-and-forth between the utter mundanity of Iananbarbara's everyday lives and the horror of her visions has drawn me in by this time. There's a sense that reality is indeterminate, that we're not meant to choose between the horrific and the mundane. It's a bit like the unreality of Campaign, though on a smaller scale. If things continue in the same vein, Part Three will skip past the scene with Susan in the classroom and fill in the gap from there to the moment when Iananbarbara are waiting in the car.
Part Three: The Only Living Thing
But that's not what happens. Instead, we get a more detailed (but slightly warped) view of that scene in the classroom, with Barbara mishearing the name of the group as John Smith and his Companions, an event which points out that even in these sections we are in a postmodern story. Then we skip to the two teachers in the car, and realise that everything has shifted so that we are now in phase with the An Unearthly Child. The sign on the gate, apparently reading IamFORman, keeps us on our toes, but things remain resolutely normal.
Until they search the junkyard and find, not a Police Box, but a strong box. Right back in my first review I said of the Doctor, "It sort of looks as if he is keeping Susan locked up in the police box, and although it doesn't feel as if the program is that grim we have been kept off-balance enough to pause. If not, why is he so desperate to keep the teachers out?"
Here the story really does feel that grim, and when Grandfather attacks we know things are very wrong...
And then they aren't. The mind-manipulating menace is defeated, everyone's back in the TARDIS, recovering, and all is right with the world. Except it's still a postmodern world, and we are gifted with the wonderful, contradictory (though not self-contradictory) statement "You can't change history. Not one word." Barbara wanders through the normal (for Who) world of the TARDIS, off-balance.
Then this, too, is shown to be a lie, and (like a certain point in the film Labyrinth) she is back fighting Grandfather. Two teachers stumble away from the conflict, while echoes of another reality filter through Barbara's consciousness, and an alternate beginning is offered.
So, where and when is this story? Is it all a dream induced by some psychic alien, as implied earlier, in which case the menace still needs defeating; or is it an alternate reality? Or perhaps it's just make-believe, outside the chronology, beyond the Whoniverse? I have a strong pull to make everything fit together, but there are some stories - like The Longest Story in the World, elsewhere in this collection - that cannot fit. Nothing at the End of the Lane is a borderline case, deliberately so.
I don't like this story, it's nasty and incomplete. I really like it, it's finely crafted and chilling. Both these statements are true, at the same time. People's minds are not one-tracked - we can hold contradictions in our heads with ease, and O'Mahony makes use of that quite brilliantly here. It's not a story I want to come back to often, but I've happily read it three or four times; and each time I get a little more out of it. Which is all I can ask for, really.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6.5/10.
Next Time:
Back into the past again for another short trip: Mire and Clay.
Part One: The Valiant Woman
"These are the last days." So thinks Barbara Wright, on a bus to her job at Coal Hill School in 1963, travelling across the ruins of a dying London in the future, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of Jewish rebels trapped in Masada in 72AD. She has these episodes, you see, where she can't tell what is real and what is... something else.
Still, she manages to get to school, and with enough time to tidy herself up. She briefly encounters Ian Chesterton, a man she has pigeonholed as liberal - "wrong but romantic", quoting the immortal words of Messrs. Sellar and Yeatman, historians extraordinaire. Though they applied the phrase to the Cavaliers; and it makes one wonder how she sees herself: a conservative Roundhead, "Wright but repulsive", perhaps?
She makes it through the school day, just, but not without cost. A contretemps with class weirdo Susan Foreman involving decimalisation, dollars and cents (and why did the author have to bring US currency into it?) leads to her investigating her pupil's home. A policeman directs her to Totter's Lane, she finds and enters the junkyard, approaches a Police Telephone Box which is humming - and it becomes clear that her viewpoint is that of the camera in the opening scene of An Unearthly Child, and of the show as a whole.
So far, so good. If it weren't for the "episodes", this could be a fleshing out of Barbara's life in the time leading up to her conversation with Ian in the scenes following that fog-filled beginning.
Part Two: The Watchers on the Walls
But she is having episodes - appropriately named, too, since they are effectively adventures (though of a more horrific sort than we got to see on TV) - and she has one right at the beginning of the second part. It's disorientating, which is good, and then she has dinner with Ian. More background-filling. And after he's gone, a nightmare. Back to school for a book being requested by the class weirdo, and we have caught up with the next scene.
The back-and-forth between the utter mundanity of Iananbarbara's everyday lives and the horror of her visions has drawn me in by this time. There's a sense that reality is indeterminate, that we're not meant to choose between the horrific and the mundane. It's a bit like the unreality of Campaign, though on a smaller scale. If things continue in the same vein, Part Three will skip past the scene with Susan in the classroom and fill in the gap from there to the moment when Iananbarbara are waiting in the car.
Part Three: The Only Living Thing
But that's not what happens. Instead, we get a more detailed (but slightly warped) view of that scene in the classroom, with Barbara mishearing the name of the group as John Smith and his Companions, an event which points out that even in these sections we are in a postmodern story. Then we skip to the two teachers in the car, and realise that everything has shifted so that we are now in phase with the An Unearthly Child. The sign on the gate, apparently reading IamFORman, keeps us on our toes, but things remain resolutely normal.
Until they search the junkyard and find, not a Police Box, but a strong box. Right back in my first review I said of the Doctor, "It sort of looks as if he is keeping Susan locked up in the police box, and although it doesn't feel as if the program is that grim we have been kept off-balance enough to pause. If not, why is he so desperate to keep the teachers out?"
Here the story really does feel that grim, and when Grandfather attacks we know things are very wrong...
And then they aren't. The mind-manipulating menace is defeated, everyone's back in the TARDIS, recovering, and all is right with the world. Except it's still a postmodern world, and we are gifted with the wonderful, contradictory (though not self-contradictory) statement "You can't change history. Not one word." Barbara wanders through the normal (for Who) world of the TARDIS, off-balance.
Then this, too, is shown to be a lie, and (like a certain point in the film Labyrinth) she is back fighting Grandfather. Two teachers stumble away from the conflict, while echoes of another reality filter through Barbara's consciousness, and an alternate beginning is offered.
So, where and when is this story? Is it all a dream induced by some psychic alien, as implied earlier, in which case the menace still needs defeating; or is it an alternate reality? Or perhaps it's just make-believe, outside the chronology, beyond the Whoniverse? I have a strong pull to make everything fit together, but there are some stories - like The Longest Story in the World, elsewhere in this collection - that cannot fit. Nothing at the End of the Lane is a borderline case, deliberately so.
I don't like this story, it's nasty and incomplete. I really like it, it's finely crafted and chilling. Both these statements are true, at the same time. People's minds are not one-tracked - we can hold contradictions in our heads with ease, and O'Mahony makes use of that quite brilliantly here. It's not a story I want to come back to often, but I've happily read it three or four times; and each time I get a little more out of it. Which is all I can ask for, really.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6.5/10.
Next Time:
Back into the past again for another short trip: Mire and Clay.
Monday, 20 February 2012
Short Trips 1.04: The Last Days, by Evan Pritchard
This story is set in one of the more interesting decades of Imperial Roman times - the 70s - which saw the Siege of Jerusalem, the eruption of Vesuvius and a particularly unstable period for the throne. (Though it must be said, the 60s were pretty eventful too!) I've read books and seen documentaries on various events from the time, but what connected it all together for me was a children's historical mystery series - Roman Mysteries, by Caroline Lawrence - which is a good read but has also been well adapted for CBBC. Obviously the books have more detail, but both forms are fun and informative.
The Siege of Masada, however, is one of the events not covered (at least, in the ones I've read). As with The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, we join our heroes partway through: interestingly, about the time Barbara returns to consciousness after an extended period.
We don't start with Barbara, though. Instead, the opening paragraph has the Doctor exhorting the Romans on to greater efforts against the Jewish rebels. This struck a slightly painful chord, as William Hartnell has sometimes been accused of anti-Semitism. It seems unlikely to me that his was a severe case, given how well he got on with Carole Ann Ford and Verity Lambert (both Jewish); but I suspect he would not have hesitated to use "Jew" as an insult for someone who had annoyed him. I'm sure he was not above using other slurs, too, but then I don't believe in sharp dividing lines between anti-Semitism, racism, sexism or homophobia and their absence. Such distinctions don't help; you should be able to criticise someone's behaviour without lumping them in with Heinrich Himmler and threatening to "ship 'em back where they came from, along with the rest of the bigots."
Anyway, rant aside, this story completes the trilogy of historical intervention begun in The Aztecs and continued in Farewell, Great Macedon. Although they find themselves on opposite sides of the siege, the Doctor and Barbara are now on the same side in the matter of historical inevitability. Both are working to make history come out as it should. It's Ian who rails against it this time, and he has one very good line, even if it's only in his head: "Barbara might have read the history books, but he knew these people's names." Lovely.
It's an ugly chapter in history, and in some ways it's portrayed sensitively, with combatants on both sides shown to be human; but the involvement of the travellers can't help but trivialise the subject to an extent. And the way Ian is made to suffer is almost sadism on the part of the author, with the reader as voyeur. I don't like it. Not that it's necessarily a bad place to go with a story - Lois McMaster Bujold once said that her plotting often relied on thinking "what's the worst thing I can do to this character now?" - but the way it's done, and how it's linked to the real, historical suffering of people in ancient Judaea, mean that it's really not for me.
Published:
Date: March 1998
ISBN: 0-563-40560-0
Rating:
4.5/10.
Next Time:
There may be a slight delay, either before the next review or before the one after that. As usual in school holidays, I've done hardly any writing; and since I kept on posting last week I've used up my buffer. Still, on the plus side, I did get to go down to London and see friends - and while I was there I caught the Doctor Who Experience before its closure next Wednesday. Expect a review here in about another quarter-century.
Anyway, whenever it arrives, the next entry will be sticking with short trips but stepping sideways for Nothing at the End of the Lane...
The Siege of Masada, however, is one of the events not covered (at least, in the ones I've read). As with The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, we join our heroes partway through: interestingly, about the time Barbara returns to consciousness after an extended period.
We don't start with Barbara, though. Instead, the opening paragraph has the Doctor exhorting the Romans on to greater efforts against the Jewish rebels. This struck a slightly painful chord, as William Hartnell has sometimes been accused of anti-Semitism. It seems unlikely to me that his was a severe case, given how well he got on with Carole Ann Ford and Verity Lambert (both Jewish); but I suspect he would not have hesitated to use "Jew" as an insult for someone who had annoyed him. I'm sure he was not above using other slurs, too, but then I don't believe in sharp dividing lines between anti-Semitism, racism, sexism or homophobia and their absence. Such distinctions don't help; you should be able to criticise someone's behaviour without lumping them in with Heinrich Himmler and threatening to "ship 'em back where they came from, along with the rest of the bigots."
Anyway, rant aside, this story completes the trilogy of historical intervention begun in The Aztecs and continued in Farewell, Great Macedon. Although they find themselves on opposite sides of the siege, the Doctor and Barbara are now on the same side in the matter of historical inevitability. Both are working to make history come out as it should. It's Ian who rails against it this time, and he has one very good line, even if it's only in his head: "Barbara might have read the history books, but he knew these people's names." Lovely.
It's an ugly chapter in history, and in some ways it's portrayed sensitively, with combatants on both sides shown to be human; but the involvement of the travellers can't help but trivialise the subject to an extent. And the way Ian is made to suffer is almost sadism on the part of the author, with the reader as voyeur. I don't like it. Not that it's necessarily a bad place to go with a story - Lois McMaster Bujold once said that her plotting often relied on thinking "what's the worst thing I can do to this character now?" - but the way it's done, and how it's linked to the real, historical suffering of people in ancient Judaea, mean that it's really not for me.
Published:
Date: March 1998
ISBN: 0-563-40560-0
Rating:
4.5/10.
Next Time:
There may be a slight delay, either before the next review or before the one after that. As usual in school holidays, I've done hardly any writing; and since I kept on posting last week I've used up my buffer. Still, on the plus side, I did get to go down to London and see friends - and while I was there I caught the Doctor Who Experience before its closure next Wednesday. Expect a review here in about another quarter-century.
Anyway, whenever it arrives, the next entry will be sticking with short trips but stepping sideways for Nothing at the End of the Lane...
Friday, 17 February 2012
Unpublished PDA: Campaign, by Jim Mortimore
Come in, Mister Mortimore, I've been expecting you.
[Reviewer strokes imaginary fluffy white cat.]
What's that? Ah yes, my apologies for the stereotypical specimen of felis silvestris catus. It would have been a corn snake, but ours has just died. And I'm currently laid up with a fever. So I am not in the best of moods.
[Mortimore tries to speak, only to realise he has no face.]
Again, my apologies. I have no idea what you look or sound like, so I haven't bothered to imagine you properly. Minion! Fetch the prisoner a face mask.
[A brief delay, then the shadowy minion places a cardboard cutout of Patrick McGoohan's face over the author's lack-of-features.]
I didn't ask for a The Prisoner face mask, you imbecile! Still, it does seem... appropriate. For an author who transgresses as often as you do.
Oh yes, I know who you are. You are the one who cannot resist pushing at boundaries. Usually by seeing how much death, destruction and pain you can inflict on your characters, but also in other ways. You wrote the truly wonderful A Natural History of Fear, one of the strangest Big Finish audios ever and certainly the jewel in the crown of the Divergent Universe arc, and that alone would earn you a place in my personal hall of fame. I've not read all your other Who novels and short stories, but those I haven't I know by reputation; and you also wrote this.
Readers who hate spoilers should look away now. Isn't that right, Mr. Flopsy?
[The large white rabbit jumps down off the reviewer's lap and starts nibbling at Mortimore's toes. Assuming he has toes.]
My favourite episode of Red Dwarf is Back to Reality, which reveals early on that the characters' adventures are all part of a virtual reality game. This is what happens at the end of Campaign, where the Game of Me (which has been mentioned throughout) turns out to be the V.R. game they are playing. (While we're spoiling, I'll tell you that Ian wins. Nyer.) And although 'reset switches' are lame devices, what else can you do when you've destroyed the universe outside the Tardis and killed everyone inside? Many times?
The point is that it doesn't matter, because the novel isn't really about that; it's exploring paths not taken in Who, in the author's inimitable, unrestrained style.
ISN'T IT, MISTER MORTIMORE?!
[The white hamster scurries away at the sudden sound.]
You went so far this time that you scared off the BBC. Oh, maybe it was the shouting matches rather than the content, although it sounds as if there was a lot they wanted changed. But there were some things you wouldn't budge on. As a result you published it for charity instead, and then made it available online. Which is nice.
Within the Whoniverse, large parts of this form the earliest sequel to The Edge of Destruction, set entirely within T.A.R.D.I.S.; but this is married to events outside happening around the time of Farewell, Great Macedon - or at least an alternate version of same. Cliffanlola get the bulk of the focus, though it opens with Alexander himself. And, actually, closes with our heroes about to go off and meet the king for the first time. Which means that I've reviewed this in the wrong place. And that the Doctor can control the TARDIS. So within the novel even reality isn't, if you get my drift. It's like eXistenZ - how many layers down can you go until you drop out of the Whoniverse completely and into the mundane world of discarded character outlines and rejected BBC scripts - The Masters of Luxor; Farewell, Great Macedon; and, of course, Campaign itself? The snake bites its own tail.
Speaking of discarded characters, it's hard to comment on things like characterisation when they are changing every other page. Sometimes even the format changes, giving us John and Gillian in comic strip form, or words arranged like Carroll's The Mouse's Tale, or optical illusions turning the simplest of games, through repetition, into DNA (double helix, not Douglas Adams!) and then Breughel's tower of Babel. It's all part of the madness. But glorious madness.
Very well, I suppose you can go. Just pass that poodle back to me, will you? Ta.
Oh, and it's true about the fever, so if this review (if that is what it is) lacks coherence I do have an excuse; at the moment it seems like a good idea, given the nature of the book I'm reviewing. And I did cut out the bit about the gorilla. Except... well, I only wrote part of it while feverish, though I tried to stick to the plan I made while I was. Robert Heinlein had a stroke while writing The Number of the Beast, and people have claimed that they can pinpoint the place in the writing where it happened. Perhaps the same will be true here?
Unfortunately, it's also true what I said about the snake dying.
RIP Sunlight. You are already sorely missed.
Published:
Date: May 2000
ISBN:
Rating:
How can you rate something like this? I enjoyed bits of it, and admired other bits. It's pretty violent in places (though not gratuitously so), which is a bit of a turn-off for me; but on the other hand it's all about perceptions of reality, which is very much my thing. 10/10 for chutzpah, 0/10 for sanity? Whatever, it's well worth experiencing. Go get it and decide for yourself. And if you do love it, contribute to the Bristol Area Downs Syndrome Association. Details in the book.
Next Time:
It sounds like it should be set at the end of time, but it's not. The Doctor's going Roman for The Last Days.
[Reviewer strokes imaginary fluffy white cat.]
What's that? Ah yes, my apologies for the stereotypical specimen of felis silvestris catus. It would have been a corn snake, but ours has just died. And I'm currently laid up with a fever. So I am not in the best of moods.
[Mortimore tries to speak, only to realise he has no face.]
Again, my apologies. I have no idea what you look or sound like, so I haven't bothered to imagine you properly. Minion! Fetch the prisoner a face mask.
[A brief delay, then the shadowy minion places a cardboard cutout of Patrick McGoohan's face over the author's lack-of-features.]
I didn't ask for a The Prisoner face mask, you imbecile! Still, it does seem... appropriate. For an author who transgresses as often as you do.
Oh yes, I know who you are. You are the one who cannot resist pushing at boundaries. Usually by seeing how much death, destruction and pain you can inflict on your characters, but also in other ways. You wrote the truly wonderful A Natural History of Fear, one of the strangest Big Finish audios ever and certainly the jewel in the crown of the Divergent Universe arc, and that alone would earn you a place in my personal hall of fame. I've not read all your other Who novels and short stories, but those I haven't I know by reputation; and you also wrote this.
Readers who hate spoilers should look away now. Isn't that right, Mr. Flopsy?
[The large white rabbit jumps down off the reviewer's lap and starts nibbling at Mortimore's toes. Assuming he has toes.]
My favourite episode of Red Dwarf is Back to Reality, which reveals early on that the characters' adventures are all part of a virtual reality game. This is what happens at the end of Campaign, where the Game of Me (which has been mentioned throughout) turns out to be the V.R. game they are playing. (While we're spoiling, I'll tell you that Ian wins. Nyer.) And although 'reset switches' are lame devices, what else can you do when you've destroyed the universe outside the Tardis and killed everyone inside? Many times?
The point is that it doesn't matter, because the novel isn't really about that; it's exploring paths not taken in Who, in the author's inimitable, unrestrained style.
ISN'T IT, MISTER MORTIMORE?!
[The white hamster scurries away at the sudden sound.]
You went so far this time that you scared off the BBC. Oh, maybe it was the shouting matches rather than the content, although it sounds as if there was a lot they wanted changed. But there were some things you wouldn't budge on. As a result you published it for charity instead, and then made it available online. Which is nice.
Within the Whoniverse, large parts of this form the earliest sequel to The Edge of Destruction, set entirely within T.A.R.D.I.S.; but this is married to events outside happening around the time of Farewell, Great Macedon - or at least an alternate version of same. Cliffanlola get the bulk of the focus, though it opens with Alexander himself. And, actually, closes with our heroes about to go off and meet the king for the first time. Which means that I've reviewed this in the wrong place. And that the Doctor can control the TARDIS. So within the novel even reality isn't, if you get my drift. It's like eXistenZ - how many layers down can you go until you drop out of the Whoniverse completely and into the mundane world of discarded character outlines and rejected BBC scripts - The Masters of Luxor; Farewell, Great Macedon; and, of course, Campaign itself? The snake bites its own tail.
Speaking of discarded characters, it's hard to comment on things like characterisation when they are changing every other page. Sometimes even the format changes, giving us John and Gillian in comic strip form, or words arranged like Carroll's The Mouse's Tale, or optical illusions turning the simplest of games, through repetition, into DNA (double helix, not Douglas Adams!) and then Breughel's tower of Babel. It's all part of the madness. But glorious madness.
Very well, I suppose you can go. Just pass that poodle back to me, will you? Ta.
Oh, and it's true about the fever, so if this review (if that is what it is) lacks coherence I do have an excuse; at the moment it seems like a good idea, given the nature of the book I'm reviewing. And I did cut out the bit about the gorilla. Except... well, I only wrote part of it while feverish, though I tried to stick to the plan I made while I was. Robert Heinlein had a stroke while writing The Number of the Beast, and people have claimed that they can pinpoint the place in the writing where it happened. Perhaps the same will be true here?
Unfortunately, it's also true what I said about the snake dying.
RIP Sunlight. You are already sorely missed.
Published:
Date: May 2000
ISBN:
Rating:
How can you rate something like this? I enjoyed bits of it, and admired other bits. It's pretty violent in places (though not gratuitously so), which is a bit of a turn-off for me; but on the other hand it's all about perceptions of reality, which is very much my thing. 10/10 for chutzpah, 0/10 for sanity? Whatever, it's well worth experiencing. Go get it and decide for yourself. And if you do love it, contribute to the Bristol Area Downs Syndrome Association. Details in the book.
Next Time:
It sounds like it should be set at the end of time, but it's not. The Doctor's going Roman for The Last Days.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1b: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, continued
Right. I can't go any further into the review without talking about Barbara. If the story of Who to this point can be said to be about anybody, it has been about her. She has changed and grown far more than the others - the opposite pole to the Doctor's own development over the first three serials; driving the plot in The Aztecs; her growing emotional involvement in her travels in The Reign of Terror, Farewell, Great Macedon and here. Had these last two stories been shown on the telly at the time I would have said that she had more emotional development in one year than any other classic TV companion, with the possible exceptions of Ace in her last five stories (which, as I've argued before, mirror season 1 in more than one respect) or - stretching a point - Mike Yates in the run from The Green Death to Planet of the Spiders. This may be a function of the marathon, and I may see it in others as I progress; but even if I do the development of Barbara can still be held up as a fine example.
And yet, in the midst of all this change, she is the rock-solid emotional anchor of the team. There was talk at one point of getting rid of Barbara in the final story of the first production run - the upcoming Return of the Daleks - and presumably this was because Hill wasn't sure if she wanted to commit to more; but I am very glad she did. The show isn't ready to be without her, not yet.
So, imagine listening to this story without future knowledge. There is that doubt, kept bubbling for most of the story, over whether Barbara will stay on Fragrance. To begin with there's the "does she, doesn't she?" question: whether she loves Rhythm as a friend, or as something more. Ian's relief on learning the answer is palpable, and it occurs to me that their chaste love for each other - sometimes held up as a fan theory imposed on the era from the viewpoint of later years - is here acknowledged by a writer in 1964. One can only imagine what Ian would be like if, say, she had died of radiation poisoning as a result of their exposure on Skaro!
The tension (for both Ian and listener) continues as Barbara learns of the consequences for Rhythm should she leave, and everyone awaits her decision. Then - just as in Farewell, Great Macedon - the Doctor overrules her. This time it is more than just the arrogance of patriarchy, because it was held out that she actually had a choice. We are left in the uncomfortable position of feeling relief at a betrayal of trust, of being glad that Barbara had her freedom of choice taken away. It's not very flattering: we want her to stay, and are willing to sanction almost anything to keep her with us despite her own nobility. How selfish is that, compared to what she was prepared to sacrifice?
And then, kidnapped by the Doctor for the second time, she gets to watch the man who declared his love for her burn. A man she was prepared to give up everything for, not because she was in love with him but because it was the right thing to do. Now, that's hard.
A Confused Chronology, part 3: When Did They Visit Fragrance?
As a pair these audios do fit nicely into the inter-season gap, but which comes first? I can see why this is the second story in the boxset. It's very much the lesser attraction - single-episode, not one of the (now) highly-regarded historicals, never intended for broadcast. Its length also means that there's plenty of space on the disk for the extras, which should be heard after the stories. Unfortunately, this placement on the final disk means that most timelines, by default, set it chronologically after Farewell, Great Macedon. Having heard it I would say that it works better before: that way, the events here can inform Barbara's desperate need to leave before Alexander dies.
Rating:
5.5/10.
Next Time:
Very much sideways for Jim Mortimore's self-published PDA, Campaign.
And yet, in the midst of all this change, she is the rock-solid emotional anchor of the team. There was talk at one point of getting rid of Barbara in the final story of the first production run - the upcoming Return of the Daleks - and presumably this was because Hill wasn't sure if she wanted to commit to more; but I am very glad she did. The show isn't ready to be without her, not yet.
So, imagine listening to this story without future knowledge. There is that doubt, kept bubbling for most of the story, over whether Barbara will stay on Fragrance. To begin with there's the "does she, doesn't she?" question: whether she loves Rhythm as a friend, or as something more. Ian's relief on learning the answer is palpable, and it occurs to me that their chaste love for each other - sometimes held up as a fan theory imposed on the era from the viewpoint of later years - is here acknowledged by a writer in 1964. One can only imagine what Ian would be like if, say, she had died of radiation poisoning as a result of their exposure on Skaro!
The tension (for both Ian and listener) continues as Barbara learns of the consequences for Rhythm should she leave, and everyone awaits her decision. Then - just as in Farewell, Great Macedon - the Doctor overrules her. This time it is more than just the arrogance of patriarchy, because it was held out that she actually had a choice. We are left in the uncomfortable position of feeling relief at a betrayal of trust, of being glad that Barbara had her freedom of choice taken away. It's not very flattering: we want her to stay, and are willing to sanction almost anything to keep her with us despite her own nobility. How selfish is that, compared to what she was prepared to sacrifice?
And then, kidnapped by the Doctor for the second time, she gets to watch the man who declared his love for her burn. A man she was prepared to give up everything for, not because she was in love with him but because it was the right thing to do. Now, that's hard.
A Confused Chronology, part 3: When Did They Visit Fragrance?
As a pair these audios do fit nicely into the inter-season gap, but which comes first? I can see why this is the second story in the boxset. It's very much the lesser attraction - single-episode, not one of the (now) highly-regarded historicals, never intended for broadcast. Its length also means that there's plenty of space on the disk for the extras, which should be heard after the stories. Unfortunately, this placement on the final disk means that most timelines, by default, set it chronologically after Farewell, Great Macedon. Having heard it I would say that it works better before: that way, the events here can inform Barbara's desperate need to leave before Alexander dies.
Rating:
5.5/10.
Next Time:
Very much sideways for Jim Mortimore's self-published PDA, Campaign.
Monday, 13 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1b: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance
Like Rise and Fall, this is a lyrical story that would never have worked on TV. It has the pacing and experimental nature of Who in 1964, while requiring colour and 21st century CGI to realise effectively. But then, it was never written to be made...
So far as I can tell, this is a tale like no other in Who. For one thing, love stories are few and far between - the closest in tone that I can think of being Autumn from the Circular Time audio - and surreally symbolic stories are just about equally rare. I've never come across the combination before.
Still, before I dive too much into the writing (which will be the focus for most of this review) I want to take a look at the audio production.
First, let me say how pleased I am that Carole Ann Ford is given more of a chance to use her particular talents than was the case during the previous story. It balances things up a little, and while the ideal reader here would, of course, be the much-missed Jacqueline Hill, Ford makes the most of the opportunity and impresses. William Russell holds his own as always, but for once he has the less interesting material to work with. John Dorney's Rhythm is quite different from Alexander, much younger in terms of experience; and he's joined here by Helen Goldwyn as Melody and Harmony. The extra performer, combined with a smaller cast to begin with, means that this feels closer to a full-cast production.
The music is very good - better here than in the historical, in my opinion - and although there are a couple of occasions where it's somewhat over-egged (such as when Iamb asks to look closer at the console) it does a fine job of setting the atmosphere.
On to the story, then, and I'd like to get the bad stuff out of the way. I mentioned that Russell drew the short straw for interesting material, and that's because he's narrating the parts where the Doctor is showing off his ship, and describing the workings in excruciating detail, much to Ian's concern. It's this aspect of the story that is by far the weakest: true, it sets up a pleasing contrast between the sciencey TARDIS scenes and the lyrical external ones; but unfortunately the clunky nature of the explanations just drags things down.
Explanations are going on outside, too, but in a much more artful manner. Susan echoes the audience's confusion as Melody and Harmony explain about the Fragile Yellow Arc, but - unusually - she is shown to be smart about it, grasping the concepts, turning them over in her mind and arguing with them intelligently. It's one of the better stories for the Doctor's granddaughter.
I'll also praise the characterisation of the inhabitants of Fragrance. They are alien, yet with recognisable motives. When Rhythm's mother Rhyme declares her intent to stop the travellers leaving you can feel her desperation. There's no evil behind it, just maternal love; and Rhythm's nobility in response is heart-rending. People sometimes complain about the degree to which Russell T. Davies knowingly pulls on his audience's emotional strings, but by golly he wasn't the first! This is potent stuff.
Let's see, I've mentioned Ian, Susan, the Doctor, the TARDIS and the locals. I've got a feeling that I'm missing someone, but I can't put my finger on who. Ah well, they probably weren't important to the story.
Development of a Script, Part 7: On Spec
When Moris Farhi was trying to get work at the BBC through David Whitaker, the script editor was already impressed with Farhi's writing and didn't want him to spend his time producing a sample script for nothing. Instead, Whitaker arranged a meeting with the writer and then agreed with Head of Drama Donald Wilson that they would offer to pay Farhi £50 for a single trial script. Not being privy to this discussion, Farhi decided that he would write a sample episode anyway, and did so over the four days prior to the meeting. That script was The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
Whitaker's eye for talent combined with Farhi's over-enthusiasm has made this is one of the best fifty quid the BBC spent. The corporation got a good writer on board (Farhi later wrote for Paul Temple, The Onedin Line and other BBC productions), and we got seven episodes of classic Hartnell-era Who.
Next Time:
More of the same, but this time focusing on a missing piece at the heart of the puzzle...
So far as I can tell, this is a tale like no other in Who. For one thing, love stories are few and far between - the closest in tone that I can think of being Autumn from the Circular Time audio - and surreally symbolic stories are just about equally rare. I've never come across the combination before.
Still, before I dive too much into the writing (which will be the focus for most of this review) I want to take a look at the audio production.
First, let me say how pleased I am that Carole Ann Ford is given more of a chance to use her particular talents than was the case during the previous story. It balances things up a little, and while the ideal reader here would, of course, be the much-missed Jacqueline Hill, Ford makes the most of the opportunity and impresses. William Russell holds his own as always, but for once he has the less interesting material to work with. John Dorney's Rhythm is quite different from Alexander, much younger in terms of experience; and he's joined here by Helen Goldwyn as Melody and Harmony. The extra performer, combined with a smaller cast to begin with, means that this feels closer to a full-cast production.
The music is very good - better here than in the historical, in my opinion - and although there are a couple of occasions where it's somewhat over-egged (such as when Iamb asks to look closer at the console) it does a fine job of setting the atmosphere.
On to the story, then, and I'd like to get the bad stuff out of the way. I mentioned that Russell drew the short straw for interesting material, and that's because he's narrating the parts where the Doctor is showing off his ship, and describing the workings in excruciating detail, much to Ian's concern. It's this aspect of the story that is by far the weakest: true, it sets up a pleasing contrast between the sciencey TARDIS scenes and the lyrical external ones; but unfortunately the clunky nature of the explanations just drags things down.
Explanations are going on outside, too, but in a much more artful manner. Susan echoes the audience's confusion as Melody and Harmony explain about the Fragile Yellow Arc, but - unusually - she is shown to be smart about it, grasping the concepts, turning them over in her mind and arguing with them intelligently. It's one of the better stories for the Doctor's granddaughter.
I'll also praise the characterisation of the inhabitants of Fragrance. They are alien, yet with recognisable motives. When Rhythm's mother Rhyme declares her intent to stop the travellers leaving you can feel her desperation. There's no evil behind it, just maternal love; and Rhythm's nobility in response is heart-rending. People sometimes complain about the degree to which Russell T. Davies knowingly pulls on his audience's emotional strings, but by golly he wasn't the first! This is potent stuff.
Let's see, I've mentioned Ian, Susan, the Doctor, the TARDIS and the locals. I've got a feeling that I'm missing someone, but I can't put my finger on who. Ah well, they probably weren't important to the story.
Development of a Script, Part 7: On Spec
When Moris Farhi was trying to get work at the BBC through David Whitaker, the script editor was already impressed with Farhi's writing and didn't want him to spend his time producing a sample script for nothing. Instead, Whitaker arranged a meeting with the writer and then agreed with Head of Drama Donald Wilson that they would offer to pay Farhi £50 for a single trial script. Not being privy to this discussion, Farhi decided that he would write a sample episode anyway, and did so over the four days prior to the meeting. That script was The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
Whitaker's eye for talent combined with Farhi's over-enthusiasm has made this is one of the best fifty quid the BBC spent. The corporation got a good writer on board (Farhi later wrote for Paul Temple, The Onedin Line and other BBC productions), and we got seven episodes of classic Hartnell-era Who.
Next Time:
More of the same, but this time focusing on a missing piece at the heart of the puzzle...
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