On Opposition to Episodes by Rob Matthews 16/5/03
After reading Matthew Harris' recent piece on the episodic format I had to scour my own reviews to see whether it was me who'd commented somewhere on that said format is 'dated'. It rang a bell, but I couldn't remember from exactly where. That's what happens when you turn twenty-five, you know, the onset of senility. Anyhow, turns out it was me, in a review of season 22 I did. I made the comment two or three years ago, though, and I'm not really prepared to go to the gallows for it. In retrospect, my suggestion that Doctor Who could tell decent stories in just 45 minutes was a bit silly.
Still, I ought to point out that by 'dated' I wouldn't have meant simply 'old'. I'd have meant that it's a format audiences are no longer accustomed to, which is a very different thing. Believe me, apart from Justin Timberlake and The Simpsons, most of the stuff I entertain myself with is in some way dated. Okay I'll draw an analogy - I can't get any of my mates to even consider watching most of the movies in my video collection, because most of that video collection is in black and white. Now, while I personally don't give a flying crap whether something's in black and white or not, I would nevertheless not expect a new series of Doctor Who made in monochrome to do very well. So I can see why other fans would clamour for fifty-minute Who stories should the series return - not because they have any particular fondness for it, but because the 50-minute format seems to be the most popular one for current TV science fiction; in terms of pitching the series at an audience that already exists, the demographic that watches Buffy and Star Trek (sorry to refer to ya as a demographic, Joey), it would make sense for Doctor Who to adapt itself to the prevailing trend.
Ironically, it did this with season 22 - but back then the episodes were chopped in half for US broadcast!
Harris asks a very good question - 'Since no-one does something anymore, is it any reason not to do it now?' In an ideal world, no, but in the decade or so since the show went off air a whole new generation has grown up who knows nothing about the show, and audience attention spans have shrivelled like slugs in salt. Part of his problem appears to be that if this format were adopted, the stories wouldn't be long enough. But surely the niggle there is not in the length of the stories, but rather how that length is chopped up for broadcast. Doctor Who's a pretty peculiar show to the uninitiated, and I think the worry would be that if we returned to the twenty-five minute format, your average viewer would simply see half an hour of weirdness and wouldn't be particularly interested in coming back, in investing time in the show. Viewers are very lazy now - lookit, all the most popular shows like soaps and 'celebrity'/'reality' crap are on virtually seven days a week -, and though it's a great shame that that's the case, I think any new Who series would have to bear it in mind. Sacrificing an episodic format doesn't mean sacrificing story length - why not a series of ninety-minute adventures? Or two-part stories in fifty-minute episodes, which would still leave the viewer more space to understand the concepts and, more importantly, get involved with the characters?
'Is "Doctor Who Fandom" in reality a codename for a shadowy BBC-funded organisation bent on bringing it down completely?' No, I think the people making those suggestions are just being practical, and it's rather sweet that they're protective enough of our little show to want guide its ailing form gently back onto centre stage. But for myself, I don't honestly believe something as idiosyncratic as Doctor Who would succeed on screen now - not because of its format, rather because it's a show that needs special effects, and in the age of CGI there are very few of us left willing to overlook monsters made out of polystyrene and bubble wrap. I wouldn't mind being proved wrong about this, but for my money Doctor Who as a TV show can't be brought down, because it's long gone already. Instead of fretting over the show's non-continuation, why not be grateful that it lasted long enough to leave us the rich legacy it did? And that Doctor Who does continue, due to the efforts of those who genuinely love it?
No? Oh well, just a thought.
Why Most BBC Novels Come to 288 Pages by Isaac Wilcott 9/6/03
Being a regular reader of the BBC's line of Doctor Who novels (even though I'm four years behind!), I've noticed that their books always come to 256, 288, or 320 pages. Many reviews on this site also occasionally raise this issue and wonder, as I did, exactly what is going on.
First off, one wonders how they are able to create books of such regular lengths. Well, they use a wide variety of methods. They change the font size to fit into the most common 288 page format, with the result that The Taking of Planet 5 has great big mondo Target-novelization sized letters, while The Scarlet Empress has the smallest font of any book I've ever seen (apart from the microminiaturized Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, of course), and it's absolute murder on the eyeballs. 256-page books are also fairly common (Autumn Mist, Verdigris, The Turing Test), while those with 320 pages are pretty rare (Alien Bodies, Interference One and Interference Two). (These page counts include not only the text but also the title page, and so on.) Since the length of the actual text in a book, in any of the three length categories, can vary from the others in that same category by several pages, the other type of pages have to be expanded or contracted to come exactly to the desired count.
For example, the text of Autumn Mist (a 256-page book) takes up 236 pages. This includes the six-page prologue with Roman numeral page numbers and the occasional blank page after a chapter that ends on an odd-numbered page. So that leaves 14 pages for the publisher to fill up with other stuff. So you get the title page, copyright page, dedication/acknowledgments page, blank page, quote page, and a blank page at the front of the book -- with an advert page, blank page, EDA list page, blank page, PDA list page, blank page, other book list page, and a blank page at the end. Which all comes to 14 pages, making the total 256. Since the pages at the front of the book are always necessary (though sometimes crammed together to share pages), the stuff at the back is far more flexible. Therefore, this rigidly predetermined length dictates whether lists of the other EDAs/PDAs can be included in any given book, which explains why the BBC is so irregular about promoting the other books in the series.
So, now that it's been established how the BBC is able to make any book fit into the 256/288/320 page count, the question "Why?" remains. I've read many theories about this, the most common being that the 288 count (by far the most common length) is a matter of prestige, that the editor feels that if a book doesn't come to that exact length regardless of how many words the novel contains, that he's somehow lost face. And then there's the kooky possibility that maybe 288 just happens to be the lucky number of Nuala Buffini, Stephen Cole, and Justin Richards, and their superstitious leanings compel them to constrict the bulk of the books to exactly that length to ensure the prosperity of the ranges.
On the contrary, the true reason is much simpler and far more logical: money. It all has to do with book-binding. Book paper is made in large rolls, which are cut and folded over into clumps of 32 pages (16 actual sheets of paper) called "signatures." In order to minimize paper waste, the BBC uses all of these signatures. Therefore, the page count of every Doctor Who novel they print is a multiple of 32: 256 (8 signatures), 288 (9 signatures), 320 (10 signatures). It's as simple as that.
However, I have no idea what criteria they use to decide which books should be 256, 288, or 320. The Scarlet Empress should've been a 320 with a font that can be read without the assistance of an electron microscope, while The Witch Hunters should've been a 256 with something smaller than 36-point font. My (facetious) theory is that these decisions are based on how much paper the BBC has on hand at the moment, and during which months Mackays of Chatham gives bulk-purchase discounts.
Virgin was far more flexible with page counts; there was no predetermined length, and the font was always the same reasonable size. Various books came to 368 pages (Warlock), 336 (Original Sin), 304 (The Dying Days), 272 (Head Games), 256 (Zamper), 240 (Love and War), and so on. They also had a far more fixed format; I cannot recall a single Virgin book that did not include a list of the other New/Missing Adventures at the front. Since Virgin is not a bigger publisher than the BBC, I can only assume that the Mighty Beeb is still plagued with cripplingly low budgets -- the same reason they canceled the show in the first place. Either that or they're paper-friendly environmentalists, or money-grubbing bureaucrats. Whatever the case, since they're now selling these books at $7 each, I'm irked that they're not passing on their savings to us. In all honesty I'd rather they'd just grit their teeth and print all their books in a uniform readable font and be a little more flexible with their page counts, because when it comes time to read The Adventuress of Henrietta Street I'm afraid my eyeballs will shrivel up and die.
(I am indebted to Grant Thiessen, founder of Pandora's Books Ltd., for explaining signatures to me.)
Canon of Worms by Antony Tomlinson 8/7/03
Talk about the Doctor Who "canon" annoys two groups of people a great deal. For a start, those who take the idea of "the canon" seriously can become very upset if someone disagrees with their attribution of what is canonical. At the same time, more laid back fans get rather annoyed with a lot of anally retentive chatter about something that has very little to do with the actual quality of individual stories.
However, one thing that cannot be argued for is that the notion of "the canon" is in some sense meaningless. For, whether we like it or not, it is a simple fact that we must accept that certain stories are "non-canonical". For instance, no one could argue that the Peter Cushing Dalek movies or The Curse of Fatal Death are part of the canon. Even more importantly, we now see Big Finish producing the Unbound adventures, which are by their very definition not part of the Doctor Who canon. Thus, the idea of "the canon" does have some significance.
So how then do we use the concept of "the canon"? Well, it is clear to me, at least, that the idea of the canon is like the idea of "art" - namely, it is a fluid concept, with socially agreed boundaries that are always capable of shifting.
What I mean by this is that we fans create the idea of "the canon" between us. We take certain shared standards of what is "canonical" and apply these to new pieces of Doctor Who as and when we meet them. Of course in some cases it will be unclear as to whether a story fits into the canon. Indeed, the blurry edges of the concept mean that we can have equally valid, but utterly contradictory opinions as to whether something is canonical. However, we can only argue about what counts as canonical, if we agree on a central core of standards as to what this concept should apply.
So what is "the canon". Well, there are two ways of explaining a concept like this. The first is to try and define it with a description. Thus we could say that "the canon is anything that is clearly part of the single, linear history of the character that we call the Doctor (or anything that can be seen as part of his world)." Indeed, I think this is a fairly uncontroversial definition of the Doctor Who canon (and even allows for the Independent Adventures).
The second way of explaining a concept is by examining what it applies to. We can thus ask ourselves which Doctor Who stories are indubitably canonical, and which are not, and then try and identify the features that typically distinguish the canonical from the non-canonical.
In doing this, however, I believe that we should accept a single principle. This is that: "Any Doctor Who story is part of the canon, unless a compelling reason can be given for it not to be." Accepting this principle will help us to examine what reasons there ever are for rejecting stories from the canon.
So what reasons are there?:
However, there seems little reason why other mediums should not be allowed into the Doctor Who canon. Only the most uptight fan would refuse to allow novels, audio-dramas and comic strips into the canon merely because they are not produced in a TV studio - I mean, why not include them? What possible reason can their be?
Furthermore, the shifting nature of the concept of "the canon" means that we have to accept that if another medium - for instance the novels - suddenly became more successful and well-known than the TV series, then that medium might take over as the only uncontroversial part of the canon. Thus, the time might come when the TV series is only canonical insofar as it fits in with the novels (indeed, this is just what happened with the James Bond canon - the films were such a success that they now count as "the James Bond canon", while the original Ian Fleming novels are something of a offshoot or an oddity).
Nevertheless, the only clearly non-canonical Doctor Who medium that I can think of is the game-based structures of the Sixth Doctor Make Your Own Adventure books. For, to have several different endings to the same story means that they simply cannot be part of the single narrative that is the history of the Doctor.
For instance, the Peter Cushing Dalek movies are an almost exact repeat of the Hartnell Dalek stories. Thus, for them to be part of the canon would require the Doctor to go through exactly the same adventure twice. For this to happen would, however, seem to be almost impossible. Equally, the Unbound stories are actually designed to contradict events on screen, and thus are also un-controversially outside the canon.
With other stories it is less clear as to whether they are part of the canon. For instance, the First Doctor comic strips saw the Doctor on his own, meeting two new companions - his grandchildren, Gillian and John. Now, for this to square with onscreen events - in which the Doctor is never alone between stories - would require such a convoluted account as to be hopeless (for instance, the Doctor would have to have all his comic book adventures in the three minutes while Steven is outside the TARDIS door in The Massacre). Thus we would generally choose to remove such stories from the canon (and Steve Lyons's Conundrum actually giving us an excuse for doing so).
Of course the problem with - and in fact part of the charm of - TV Doctor Who is that it never bothered too much with maintaining continuity within itself. On TV we see numerous continuity clashes where the Daleks have two different origins, Mars seems to be both lifeless and heavily populated and Sarah Jane is from the 1970s and the 1980s at the same time etc. What this means then is that continuity need not be too tight for a story to remain canonical. It only has to be as tight as the continuity that existed in the TV stories (for as we have said, the TV series is our paradigm).
This sounds rather controversial - particularly given that the tone of Doctor Who stories has deliberately been highly variable. This is, after all, the series that produced both The Romans and The Curse of Fenric.
However some stories simply have the wrong tone. The Curse of Fatal Death, for instance, was not a funny Doctor Who tale. It is rather a blatant parody of the series itself, and is simply too deliberate a comedy to be part of the canon. The same is true of many comic strips (such as 1999's celebratory TV Action which features Beep the Meep invading the BBC's sets in 1979).
The clearest instance of this is the Second Doctor comic strips. These see a Doctor who remains armed at all times and kills aliens merely because they look threatening - hence his cry in one strip of "die hideous creature, die!". This violent personage simply has no relation to the Doctor (particularly the Second Doctor) and so simply cannot be allowed into the canon that represents the Doctor's ongoing story.
A slightly more controversial instance of this is the EDA novels. The EDAs built the character of the Eighth Doctor based on his one TV appearance in the movie of 1996. However, after five years of EDAs, McGann actually returned to the role on audio.
Now the problem is that the rather troubled and torture-prone Eighth Doctor as developed in the books is clearly a different character from the goofy, gung-ho Eighth Doctor as played by McGann in the audio adventures. Who then is the real, "canonical", Eighth Doctor?
I would argue that according to current standards, the audio Doctor should be regarded as more "canonical". This is because the development of this character is closer to the manner in which all previous Doctors were developed on screen - ie through the process of acting and direction. (Indeed, to base a series of Eighth Doctor novels entirely on the TV Movie seems a bit like basing a range of Seventh Doctor stories entirely on McCoy's characterisation as seen in Time and the Rani, or a series of Sixth Doctor stories on The Twin Dilemma). However, this remains a matter for debate.
This does not mean that a story simply being bad allows us to kick it out of the canon (I'm afraid that, however hated they are, Timelash or Falls the Shadow will have to stay where they are). But some stories attempt to do things that simply go beyond what the bulk of Doctor Who fans will accept as part of the Doctor's story. These, then, by popular assent are allowed to become shadowy entities that sit somewhere on the outer edge of the canon.
One instance of this, I would suggest, is John Peel's War of the Daleks. War of the Daleks attempts to explain away all of the events that occurred in Remembrance of the Daleks - in particular, it tries to convince its readers that Skaro was not destroyed as previously thought, but creates an absurd and rather convoluted series of events to explain to us that the planet still exists.
Now it is a fact that the vast majority of fans regard the destruction of Skaro in Remembrance of the Daleks as a terrific ending to a Dalek saga which had evolved gradually over five TV stories. Thus, John Peel's attempts to recast events are largely ignored - future Dalek audios and comics have forgotten about his tale, and anyone talking about the Daleks' history tends to disregard Peel's contribution. Thus, fans simply hope that if they ignore War of the Daleks, its events will simply go away. And so they do. (The Eight Doctors is often marked for similar treatment. for similar reasons).
The fact that the assertion that a story is "beyond the pale" is so opinion-based, however, means that this is the most controversial ground on which a story can be ejected from the canon. For instance, the Interference-arc produced such chaos in the Doctor's story that it ended up destroying everything that had gone on previously (see The Ancestor Cell). Thus, some may happily regard this series of stories and their consequents as incapable of being a part of the Doctor Who canon. However, it is unclear as to which way overall fan opinion will ultimately swing.
As our paradigm, the events as shown in the TV series have priority over the events in other media - thus the creation of the Daleks from the humanoid Kaleds in Genesis of the Daleks has canonical priority over the account in the Dalek comic strip, where the Daleks evolve from the blue-headed Dals.
However, outside the TV series, completely different accounts of events can also transpire. One instance of this is the departure of Ace from the TARDIS. There are three versions of this event as far as I know.
The first is her departure in the New Adventures, in which she is left in 19th Century France with a time travelling rucksack. The second is her departure in the comic strip, in which she is killed by giant lice. The third is her departure in the web-cast, Death Comes to Time, in which the Doctor dies and she goes on to become a Time Lord herself.
Which of these is the "correct", canonical account? Well, in such a competition, it seems that for an account to become canonical depends on two things:
(a). Support: Nothing else in the history of the Doctor seems to depend on (or even fit with) the events in Death Comes to Time. At the same time, the events in the comic strip may fit with the ongoing comic adventures, but do not seem to have implications outside that medium.
In contrast, events in New Adventures have important effects on events in the Missing Adventures (eg. Millennial Rites), EDAs (eg. The Shadows of Avalon), comic strips and audio-dramas. The world of the New Adventures is thus supported by events elsewhere, thus allowing it to add to the single narrative of the Doctor's life. Thus, it would seem to make sense to accept the New Adventures' account of Ace's departure as canonical.
(b). Preference: If there is a choice to be made between two accounts of events, then - all things being equal - If one account is vastly preferred to the other by the majority of fans, then it should be accepted into the canon.
In the case of Ace this is clear. Most fans simply prefer her exit in the New Adventures. Fans do not like the idea of her becoming a Time Lord - mainly because this makes no real sense. Nor do they like the idea of her suffering an ignoble defeat at the hands of enormous grubs. Thus, the New Adventures account could have won its place in the canon for this reason alone.
Analyzing Who, or, How I learned to relax and let my critical freak flag fly by Terrence Keenan 24/9/03
Everyone's a critic. Having passionate opinions is part and parcel of being a fan -- be it art, sports, life. And with regards to something like Doctor Who, where I don't think you can be a casual fan these days, the passionate opinions are stronger.
With me, it's because I think I know what makes good Who in either book or TV format due to watching a ton of serials and reading lots of the post-serial novels. Emphasis on the word think. One of the wondrous aspects of Who is that the show is quite flexible in terms of story type -- Hard Sci-Fi, comedy, fantasy, horror, historical -- and performances. So, there is no definitive answer as to what is right Who, unlike, say, Star Trek.
So, how have I chosen the stories I've opined about?
With the books, it's because I've read them and I have a gut reaction, which I try to get down and explain. The author's style, character use, plotting, theme, and agenda all come into play, with one aspect usually sticking out more. And I'll run with that.
A few words on Agenda. Agenda can lead you down narrow interpretation paths, and cause you to attack books based on that, instead of seeing them work as stories. You can see it in a lot of my reviews of 7th Doctor books from the Virgin Line. I went off way too much on the Time's Champion concept. I also attacked several books due to use of fanwank. My concentrating on these aspects, limited my enjoyment of the story in general and ignored the bigger picture -- is a good story being told, with style and good characters?
In the case of TV serials, the factors are numerous. An itch to watch a particular Doctor/companion/recurring monster-villain. Revisiting a story not seen in a long time. Other people's comments/reviews (Rob Matthews, Mike Morris & Tim Roll-Pickering here at the DWRG have sent me reaching for my videos on many an occasion.)
As I mentioned in my review of Remembrance, I'll watch a serial twice. Once as fanboy and the second time with a critical eye, with a couple of days apart between viewings. If it's a story I know well, I'll concentrate on characters and performances. I'll also look for themes and recurring ideas. Effects don't interest me all that much. Bad F/X in Who are part of the charm, so I don't see the need to flog a dead horse.
My current favorite thing to look for in serials are themes and agendas. Unfortunately, this has led to some overexuberant rantings on my part about fanwank and the Time's Champion idea (Gee. Big Surprise). But has also led to some fun discoveries -- the Hitchcockian themes linking death and consumption in Season 22, the deconstruction of the 5th Dcotor and his methods in an increasingly hostile universe in season 21 (Pointed out by both Mike Morris and Rob Matthews), and the corrupted Darwinism in Ghost Light and Survival.
I'm always refining my approach to my reviews. I'd hate to limit myself to one view on everything. Keeping the possibilities open has led to rediscovering The Greatest Show in the Galaxy, Resurrection of the Daleks, Set Piece and a couple of others I would have dismissed (all right, slagged off) had I not expanded my horizons as I've gone along. I've even learned to keep my reactionary streak under wraps.
So, I still think what I think makes great Who is right. But I think I'm learning how to better express why. Which is far more important. Anyone can say the sky is yellow with purple stripes. Showing why is the tricky part.
Who cares? - An argument for taking a chill pill by Rob Matthews 2/10/03
Yeah yeah, Doctor Who's coming back to our TV screens in a couple of years. Big deal.
Judging by the outpourings of emotion I've glimpsed on the net, I can only assume I'm the only fan in existence who reacted to The News with a kind of irritable dread, tempered only by the knowledge that with Russell T Davies taking charge, there's not too much to worry about in terms of the probable quality of the series itself. What worries me is what the reaction will be, both from fans and audiences alike. Or rather, what the reaction has been already.
Take note, people: The last time a bunch of geeks (of which I am one) got themselves this excited, it was when a certain chinless American filmmaker decided to finally make the first three movies in his twenty year-old sci-fi fantasy saga. Then the so-so Phantom Menace was finally released and George Lucas was issued with a veritable nerd fatwah.
Just from the reaction I have seen, both from fans on the clogged-up beeb messageboard and from 'luminaries' like impressionist John Culshaw in the newspapers, I can tell you right now what the problem's going to be - If the series is in any way adapted to it's time, fans of the old fart variety and narrowminded moaners of the general public/tabloid-gobshite variety will complain that it's not like 'proper' Doctor Who anyway (Culshaw himself stated that it has to be just like it was in the Jon Pertwee/Tom Baker days - whether this means it should feature frequent snide references to 'Women's Lib', invasions of Surrey by unconvinving green things, or a patrician fop as a hero, he doesn't specify). But if the series is not brought up to date, it'll be dismissed as outdated camp and swiftly re-axed.
The things is, when we fans refer to Doctor Who we're referring to forty years of accumulated stories - a heritage that a few hours of television in 2005 is simply not going to be able to live up to. If you look at Who's history you'll note that there isn't any one single season that demonstrates every single one of the strengths we associate with Who. And no matter how good the new series could potentially be, I don't think it will stand up to comparison against the corpus of non-TV Who that's been produced over the last decade-and-a-half anyway. You can't reasonably expect it to.
Besides which, it's two sodding years away! Get a grip.
My advice is just to forget all about it. Remember it's not being made just for you, and try not to create a set template for it in your head. Just get on with enjoying the books and audios, and leave the BBC and Mr Davies alone to get on with it. In other words, just wait and see. Trust me, too much anticipation and second-guessing will only poison the well.
A year in review... by Joe Ford 8/11/03 The 2003 BBC Doctor Who books:
Fear of the Dark by Trevor Baxendale
The Domino Effect by David Bishop
Blue Box by Kate Orman
Reckless Engineering by Nick Walters
Loving the Alien by Robert Perry and Mike
Tucker
The Last Resort by Paul Leonard
Colony of Lies by Colin Brake
Timeless by Stephen Cole
Wolfsbane by Jac Rayner
Emotional Chemistry by Simon A Forward
Deadly Reunion by Terrance Dicks and Barry
Letts
2002 saw BBC books in terrific shape, some of the stories being the best Who fiction yet published (The Crooked World, Camera Obscura) and receiving high plaudits from all corners. It is no secret that 2003 has been a little shakier and more criticized. I can put some of the blame in the decreased distribution; instead of releasing a PDA and an EDA concurrently we now have to wait a whole month for just one book. Whilst this might work for the standalone Past Doctor Adventures, the arc heavy Eighth Doctor books have suffered; a two-month gap between each blockbuster is just too long for some fans to wait (I for one have found that gap infuriating). However despite some lacklustre work the year has still had some wonderful books published and has, on the whole, continued the Doctor's adventures successfully.
Fear of the Dark: Decidedly odd considering the
first 80 pages are a complete re-hash of a hundred other Doctor Who
stories, this book only really comes into its own halfway through where
the enemy has started to do some real damage and the characters start to
die horribly. It is notable for looking into Tegan's return appearance in
season Twenty and her jealousy of Nyssa who remained on the TARDIS. The
blood hunter is a truly ghoulish creation but generally this is a far
better action novel than a horror despite some good psychological moments.
Baxendale writes in a speedy, engaging voice and although the book is too
simple and bland to standout it remains an entertaining read.
Verdict: B (No Eater of Wasps, this is still a
lot of fun to read)
What the critics said:
"Fear of the Dark is by no means a dreadful
book, it is however a wholly unremarkable one" Matt Michael, Doctor Who
Magazine.
"A cracking start to the Doctor's 40th anniversary year" Robert
Muller, Dreamwatch magazine.
"So why isn't this dark, accomplished novel an unqualified success?
It's not scary" David Darlington, TV Zone magazine
"Fear of the Dark is a decent read, a well told
story that evokes visual images" Jamas Enright,
DWRG
"This is a quick, inoffensive read to while away a gloomy afternoon
with" Lawrence Conquest, Outpost Gallifrey
The Domino Effect: Very good, a violent and
scary read that paints a whole new picture of the Earth. David Bishop's
blunt prose perfectly suits the quick moving plot and the book is packed
to the gills with good shocks. The fact that everyone turns out to be
horrible means you cannot connect with the secondary characters so much so
charismatic companions Fitz and Anji shine, Fitz in particular who is put
through the wringer big time. The ending, with the Earth fractured
into millions of possibilities confirms the almost soap-operish nature
of the EDA's this year, each one leading dramatically into the next.
Verdict: A minus (A good start to the year for the EDA's)
What the critics said:
"A pacey, punchy read that never quite manages to get to the point"
Matt Michael, Doctor Who Magazine.
"Ultimately there is the sense that Time is quite literally running
out - for everyone and everything, giving the book a dramatic punch" Neil
Corry, TV Zone magazine.
"What went wrong?"
"This is one of the most readable and enjoyable New Adventures to
date" Paul Williams, DWRG
Blue Box: Hardly a surprise that this is one of
the best PDA's of the year, Kate Orman has never written a bad book and
has no intention of starting here. It is easily the most experimental of
the year, a road trip novel, obsessed with computers and written
grippingly in the first person narrative through the eyes of Chick Peters,
a journalist. The sixth Doctor is brilliantly conceived, a master on the
keyboard and winding up nasty villain Sarah Swan. Peri gets a paint job
too, the book examining her painful relationship with the Doctor and
finding some realistic reasons for her to stay with him. The story might
be a little on the quiet side but the characters are fresh and
invigorating and the prose is gorgeous.
Verdict: A (Inventive and clever and very readable)
What the critics said:
"A finely crafted character piece" Robert Muller, Dreamwatch magazine
"Rarely in Doctor Who do we get to know all our incidental
characters as well as we do in Blue Box" David Darlington, TV Zone
magazine
"Orman moves her slight plot along very effectively and on the whole
its highly satisfying" Eddie Robson, SFX
"The story is fast moving and gripping, the characters are complex and
believable, the language elegant and evocative" Matt Michael, Doctor Who
Magazine.
"It's really Sarah Swan who shines here" Rob
Matthews, DWRG
"Avoid it if you live for trashy pulp, but I thought it was fresh and
interesting" Finn Clark, DWRG
Reckless Engineering: After Dominion and The Fall of Yquatine
you could be forgiven for expecting a decent EDA to come from Nick Walters
but this is easily the worst of the bunch this year. The plot is actually
quite interesting until the end where the answers run out and it climaxes
nonsensically in some rubbishy pseudo-science. Some gripping moments
involving the very scary Wildren and some fascinating ideas involving a
pristine manor house in a decaying world and time skipping forward ageing
everybody and dealing with the horrific results help what is a rather
bland book. The Fitz/Doctor dynamic gets a look in and the results are
rather touching and once again the Doctor gets to be a violent bastard
(yee hee!).
Verdict: C plus (Not great, another re-write would do it some good)
What the critics said:
"Solidly written by Nick Walters although it feels like the party's
been swinging all night and we've only just been invited" Shane Longman,
SFX magazine
"(The ending) made me want to throw the book away" Neil Corry, TV Zone
magazine.
"The first half of the book is great - gripping, action packed and
highly entertaining but about halfway through the plot seems to fall apart
into flabby nonsense" Matt Michael, Doctor Who Magazine.
"It certainly isn't a masterpiece but I'm glad I read it" Finn Clark, DWRG
"The novel rattles along at a fair old pace and for the most part is
highly enjoyable" Lawrence, Conquest, Outpost Gallifrey.
Loving the Alien: The second substandard effort
in a row, a real mish mash of horror, drama, nostalgia and more
companion killing. Get off the kick BBC books! Perry and Tucker do not
combine styles successfully, their prose is extremely different and it is
obvious who is writing what bits. The climatic moment, the death of
Ace, is undermined by the fact that it takes place halfway through the
book and the ending just cannot match up. The book has too many characters
and ideas and ended up giving me a right headache trying to keep track.
Some good moments of visceral horror do not make a good novel.
Verdict: C minus (Heavy with themes, this book sinks)
What the critics said:
"The characterisation is great, the plot moves along at a superb pace,
and most importantly there is a genuine desire to push the series in a new
direction" Matt Michael, Doctor Who Magazine.
"Loving the Alien is enjoyable pulp" David
Darlington, TV Zone magazine.
"The ingredients are there but with an overblown story Tucker and
Perry have overreached themselves" Henry Potts,
DWRG
"It sparks such a fulfilling action piece" Chad Knueppe, Outpost
Gallifrey.
The Last Resort: Much, much better and proof, if
it was needed, that the
books are pushing the series in a more adult, more sophisticated
direction. Taking
the idea of the fractured realities all taking centre stage Paul Leonard
cleverly writes a book where we continually cross alternative realities and see
the same scenes but in vastly different ways. Fitz and Anji carry the plot
mostly, realising how expendable they are in comparison with the
multiverse itself
and the Doctor's absence gives this a very 'New Adventures' style feel with
him behind the scenes trying to patch things up. The last third of the book is
excellent, with realities shifting every second and scenes of all the versions
of Fitz, Anji and the Doctor converging in one area, it is the sort of
experimental story that Doctor Who does so well. Sabbath is
brilliant as the hero of
the piece. It's a difficult book to read given it takes a lot of hard work to
figure it all out but its highly rewarding if you do.
Verdict: A minus (Powerful and clever, don't listen to the idiots who
didn't understand it!)
What the critics said:
"At first confusing, the patient and attentive reader is rewarded by a
cleverly designed story that takes the concept of Time going hideously
wrong in Time Zero and pushes it to its extreme"
Neil Corry, TV Zone Magazine.
"The Last Resort is often a powerful and
engaging work but it suffers from 'arc fatigue'" Robert Muller, Dreamwatch
magazine.
"This is the sort of high concept story they should be telling while
they have the chance" Anthony Brown, Starburst magazine.
"Leonard comes up trumps again with this mind boggling tale of time
tourists, multiple universes and fluid histories" Matt Michael, Doctor Who
Magazine.
"The Last Resort is a lot of Philip K Dick,
with a touch of "Tom Strong" but Leonard writes it well for the most part"
Henry Potts, DWRG.
"I really liked it! In fact I bloody well loved it!" Michael Mills,
Outpost Gallifrey.
The Colony of Lies: An odd book that seems a lot
of fun while you're reading it but I cannot for the life of me remember
anything about it months later. A quick flick through reminds me of a nice
cameo for the seventh Doctor, some decent work done with the cheeky 2nd
Doctor, more plot than a book this length might need and some decidedly
underwhelming prose. What's more the book skips merrily over some shocking
deaths, deals with its Western credentials purely in cliche but still has
a well thought out and surprising ending. A wee bit average in all.
Verdict: C plus (Better than Escape Velocity but
distinctly unmemorable)
What the critics said:
"Poorly written and badly plotted, this is the worst novel the BBC has
published in some time" Matt Michael, Doctor Who Magazine.
"Kudos to Colin Brake for giving us the kind of romp we haven't had in
a while" Robert Muller, Dreamwatch magazine.
"It's actually the words that drag the whole project down, being
rarely more than functional and occasionally not even that" David
Darlington, TV Zone magazine.
"The Colony of Lies is perfectly readable" Finn Clark, DWRG.
"Lazy and derivative, with bog standard prose all but devoid of style"
Lawrence Conquest, Outpost Gallifrey.
Timeless: The surprise hit of the year and the
best book since Camera Obscura. In the Doctor's
fortieth anniversary this book most exemplifies how the books are
continuing his travels with such style, featuring a complex but well
thought out plot, some excellent and memorable characters, a real nasty
villain, Sabbath at his peak, fantastic prose, decent twists and one hell
of an emotional ending. It is the end of the road for Anji and the
beginning for Trix so it is just as well they are both captured
beautifully and their bitchy rivalry is a real treat. The way this takes
all the other books in the alt universe arc and suddenly whips them into a
coherent story is genius and the cliffhanging end to the story leading
into Sometime Never next year is nail biting. Revealing Sabbath's
ultimate plan might reduce some of the character's mystery but by God,
what an ingenious plan!
Verdict: A plus (Cole hits all the right notes this time)
What the critics said:
"Timeless is fast paced, coherent and
enjoyable... an exceptional set up for a shattering climax" Matt Michael,
Doctor Who Magazine.
"Cole seems to have re-discovered his joi de vivre! About being a
Doctor Who fan and writer! He opts for another style: fun!" Terry
Richards, TV Zone magazine.
"It's often funny and occasionally genuinely disturbing. Timeless is
an unexpected delight" Eddie Robson, SFX magazine.
"Anji's story is closed in an emotionally satisfying way" Anthony
Brown, Starburst magazine.
"If you're new to the books go read Timeless
immediately. This is Doctor Who you'll never forget" Chad Knueppe,
Outpost Gallifrey.
Wolfsbane: A very enjoyable horror pastiche in
the
style of the fourth Doctor's early seasons. The book is superbly written
with some highly evocative passages. Harry finally gets the book he
deserves, Jac Rayner is clearly as obsessed with the charming idiot as we
are. He is brilliantly teamed up with the 8th Doctor during his amnesiac
exile on Earth, which brings up the question whether this is a PDA or an
EDA. Whatever, it is still very funny and quite discomforting in places
and has an ingenious ending that rewards loyal readers to both ranges.
It's shorter than average Doctor Who novel but that matters not a
jot, it makes essential bedtime reading.
Verdict: A (Touching, frightening and a bit silly too, perfect
Doctor Who!)
What the critics said:
"Its got some rather primal moments involving people being buried
alive or trapped inside trees for centuries, no less disturbing for having
some rather sweet Doctor Who trappings wrapped around them" David
Darlington, TV Zone magazine.
"Wolfsbane is a hugely entertaining addition to
the Who chronicles" Pat Reid, SFX magazine.
"A breathless highpoint in this year's Who output" Robert
Muller, Dreamwatch magazine.
"You'll end this book as in much in love with (Harry) as Jac Rayner
is" Finn Clark, DWRG.
"It's a magnificent book in every way" Richard
Radcliffe, DWRG.
Emotional Chemistry: Hang on are you sure
this is an EDA? No alternative realities, no Sabbath, no Anji... and for
their absence this is a very refreshing novel. Simon A Forward paints a
glorious picture in three different time zones and the book hops along at
a fair old pace. The main theme, love, is a strikingly different avenue
for the EDA's to explore and thankfully it doesn't descend into soggy
mush. Nope it's all out battles, mind invasion, historical drama, subtle
continuity... lots going on but never hard to follow, this book continues
the EDA's run of luck in the latter half of the year. We even get some
tantalising glimpses of the Doctor discovering more about himself...
Verdict: A (The continuing story takes a break for this wildly
imaginative tale)
What the critics said:
"So there are too many elements but it's all very enjoyable" Neil
Corry, TV Zone magazine.
"Ambitious and imaginative" Robert Muller, Dreamwatch magazine.
"Interesting, gripping and well worth your time" Finn Clark, DWRG.
"A decent, solid book, fairly enjoyable... but no classic" Lawrence
Conquest, Outpost Gallifrey.
Deadly Reunion: A shock winner, writers Terrance
Dicks and Barry Letts returning to their legacy and providing a book full
of affection and love for its source material. I cannot think of a book
that would celebrate the show better, not taking itself too seriously but
remaining interesting and exciting. They use the Greek Gods superbly in a
way that entertains and educates. The UNIT family (including the Master)
are captured gorgeously and this outranks The Daemons
as their best story together. The Brigadier is given his own story for the
first half and it proves just how good these two writers are.
Spellbindingly nostalgic.
Verdict: A (Hits all the right notes for the anniversary)
What the critics said:
"It's an undemanding and fun story" David Darlington, TV Zone
magazine.
"It's a great effort, full of engaging situations and familiar faces"
Chad Knueppe, Outpost Gallifrey.
Well it seems clear that the books have reached a much more happy medium in the second half of the year than the first, the last four each being a joy to read. The first half suffered from a lack of direction and an overdose of one idea (alternative realities for those not keeping up). But even in bad periods of Who fiction little gems emerge (Blue Box, The Domino Effect) and remind us this is only a temporary setback.
WRITERS
If I was honest only four writers amongst the bunch have written their best work this year, those being Steve Cole, Simon A Forward, Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts. The rest have all come down a notch or two, some considerably (I was expecting more from Baxendale after the superlative Eater of Wasps and Nick Walters should concentrate more on his plot in the future, his prose being quite wonderful).
Kate Orman and Jac Rayner of course wrote two wonderful books but alas even these were not as outstanding as The Year of Intelligent Tigers and The Glass Prison. Perhaps because they were PDA's they were more throwaway and less important but Blue Box and Wolfsbane were still excellent reads.
Perry and Tucker never seem to aim that high but from what I'm told Storm Harvest was a much more accomplished piece than Loving the Alien but then the critics seemed to love it so what do I know?
Certainly Cole has improved, his Ten Little Aliens was a treat but still could not hold a candle to Timeless, a shining achievement for the ex-editor this year.
Drift was a good book dragged down by overdone prose and an excess of characters and whilst Emotional Chemistry does have a large cast list the prose is much more professional and engaging.
Dicks and Letts have insulted the Who medium in the past with appalling books so it is such a relief to see their return to 'form' with Deadly Reunion.
Paul Leonard has never impressed me a great deal but his Turing Test in the Earth arc was a masterpiece, shockingly good. The Last Resort doesn't reach those heights but it is certainly his second best book, none of his others have engaged me this much.
Colin Brake has certainly improved but considering his first book was Escape Velocity that isn't saying much and discounts him from the 'best work' category.
And dear David Bishop, a terrific writer is unlucky that he produced his best ever work first and is trying hard to capture that praise again. The Domino Effect, whilst engaging as hell, doesn't quite manage it.
We'll see you all again in the future so for most of you... a little bit extra thank you!
COVERS
Blue covers seem to be a good bet this year, The Domino Effect with its brilliantly depicted 'domino effect' of multiple Earths, Timeless with its more detailed multiple Earths surrounded by glittering jewels and Wolfsbane, full of atmospheric detail like the fading moon, the hiding wolf and the sharp snow. All gorgeous covers.
Equally striking is Blue Box, with its hi-tech 'Matrix' style cover, green binary code being struck by electricity with shadowy figures emerging from the blue box. Loving the Alien makes an audacious attempt at creating a real monster movie style cover, horrible giant ants crawling over a newspaper that reveals the death of Ace (oh and the striking image of a giant ant in front of St Paul's!).
Less impressive are the least impressive novels actually, not helping their cause one bit. Troughton looking worried with a western town behind him isn't the stuff of legends (Colony of Lies) and Davison in the shadows does not create any kind of anticipation for Fear of the Dark (when a decent drawing of the bloodhunter would have been much better!). And Reckless Engineering's cover does not impress, clanking chains and a skull faced Brunel may have initially appeared quite exciting but has nothing to do with the book itself.
On the whole the covers have been good, probably better than last year. They seem to be a bit more inventive, wanting to capture somebody's eye that might just be browsing.
DOCTORS
The writers have captured their desired Doctor's pretty well on the whole. Maybe Baxendale made the fifth Doctor too snappy in Fear of the Dark but this just reminds me of Davison's excellent portrayal in Frontios.
Orman takes her time to examine the sixth Doctor through the eyes of other people and creates what I have always seen as a larger than life, exuberant character, one that fills the room and makes you pay attention to him. She also gives him a cheeky edge and never forgets he has a bit of a temper. Good job.
The seventh is more in the style of his New Adventures persona, obvious too because Loving the Alien is supposed to be set immediately prior to the Timewyrm series. He is manipulative, very clever but feels as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders. It is a more melancholic Doctor I would like to see McCoy have a stab at.
Colin Brake has a good stab at the second but the stakes have been raised too high by the Justin Richards and Mick Lewises of this world. He manages to get the mannerisms right though and the quick flaring childish temper and sudden leaps of logic are spot on.
It is with the fourth Doctor that we hit a hurdle, not because Jac Rayner fluffs him up, far from it but he just isn't around enough to make much of an impression. The Tom Baker of my memory dominated his stories and would never be pushed into the background in favour of his companions.
But the real coup this year comes with Letts and Dicks reprising their own creation, the gentlemanly, quick-witted man of action, the third Doctor. Boy, this how accurate the PDA's should be all the time. His affection for the Brigadier is one of the best things about Deadly Reunion.
So it comes as a bitter disappointment to tell you that eighth Doctor suffers the most this year. Oh yes, I'm not joking, as much as I like his books only two writers managed to capture his unique personality with any great skill. Cole and Forward in the last two EDA's of the year have returned to the romantic, hysterical and oddly violent hero who lit up like a firework last year. Scenes such as the Doctor deliberately kicking the shit out of sadistic murderer Basalt and his desperation to save the Earth AND ensure two Gods rekindle their love are the eighth Doctor at his best.
Paul Leonard takes the easy option and has the Doctor vanish for half of his book, a clever move that pushes the book into experimental territory and yet still seems strange without him.
Walters and Bishop both write McGann's Doctor as a somewhat faceless character, merely there to fulfil a role than to actively drive the plot. With writers such as Jonny Morris and Justin Richards, who have both got the eighth Doctor exactly right in the past, writing for him next year we can only hope for a continuation of Timeless and EmChem's wonderful portrayals.
PROSE
A very important factor in any book, doubly so in a Doctor Who book where the prose is essential in capturing the right time period chosen. Only one book this year has obviously poor prose (sorry Colony of Lies) and one other is far too busy with complicated plot mechanics to worry about intensive detail (The Last Resort). Loving the Alien's prose is passable, a bit hit or miss but there are some effective scenes in there. And Deadly Reunion is split in quality, the prose in the first half being detailed and frightening but switching for a lighter, breezier tone in the second half.
At the top are the lovely females, Rayner and Orman who both write with elegance I should imagine women posses. They both know how to capture a scene, visually and emotionally and sneak into their characters minds without ever compromising their quick plots.
Baxendale and Bishop are about on the same level, dialogue heavy and straight to the point. I think Bishop just takes the lead because he writes more vicously, never skimping on wince-inducing detail. However Fear of the Dark is certainly not badly written, it contains some extremely vivid scenes. Pushing ahead amongst the guys is (once again) Steve Cole and Simon A. Forward who both know how to turn a phrase and manage to bring a great deal of warmth and humour to their books despite the dramatic events.
Special mention must go to Nick Walters who has improved in leaps and bounds, there is some beautiful imagery in Reckless Engineering when all is said and done.
BADDIES
This year I think it is fair to say that all the best baddies have been the human ones. As Rob Matthews points out so eloquently Sarah Swan is one of the best things about Blue Box, a paranoid, schizophrenic even before she comes into contact with the alien device. Never before has a woman seemed so cold and remote, living in a dump of a house surrounded by pizza boxes despite her wealth. If you upset her she will be after you in the most insidious of ways. Her duels online with the sixth Doctor are so frightening because you can see how homicidal she is becoming...
Even scarier is Basalt, a lecherous, smarmy creep who was dragged through foster homes and constantly looking for love. His crimes are appalling, not just killing people but taking away their lives so somebody else can live it! His disgusting treatment of poor Stacey in Timeless is terrifying in the extreme. And finally Guaradin, the megalomaniac who enjoys slipping into the minds of men and lusting after their women. Brr...
Bishops writes good bad guys in The Domino Effect because there is nothing redeeming about them at all. The brutal Hastings clearly gets enjoyment out of watching Fitz suffer, grovel and beg. It is not always good to have characters that are so black and white but these thugs suit the story well.
Less effective are the fantastical bad guys; the Dark and Watchlar both fail to make much of an impression despite their diabolical actions. Only Hades from Deadly Reunion makes an impact and that's because he is so bloody powerful you have to pay attention!
Less dramatic but far more funnier are the villains in Wolfsbane. Harry's lost reactions to their utter insanity drives the book towards farce at times. Paul Leonard deserves a special mention for the most ingenious baddie of the year, reality itself. In some ways the endless supply of weirder realities makes that book the scariest of 2003.
How could I not mention Sabbath, present in all but two of the eighth Doctor books this year. Love him or hate him he's going to be around for a while and when you accept that he is actually a lot of fun, he crops up Master-style (except with no cheesy catchphrase unfortunately!) with his repugnant apes. The real fun with Sabbath is how he and the Doctor wind each other up, they are often at their wittiest and most insulting whilst trading barbs. And it is this year that we are finally privy to his master plan and may I say it was worth the wait. An ingenious scheme solidifying his character as the one to watch after the fallout in Timeless.
The Master shows up naturally but he's more like your best mate than your worst enemy so we won't count him.
WRAP UP
As you can see there has been some good stuff going on this year and well worth checking out. 2003 might not be the best year for Doctor Who fiction but it has certainly made the effort to be a little different and to push forward the series in intriguing new directions. If you don't like the arc heavy EDA's then buy the simpler PDA's. If dipping into old era's doesn't interest you keep yourself informed with the exciting developments with the 8th Doctor. There has been something for everyone this year, horror stories, romances, SF blockbusters, intimate character tales, dips into history and some very funny stuff too. Rather than dismissing this as the year that failed (as I fear we will next year when things are more consistent) let's remember all the fun there was to be had in 2003 with Harry fighting werewolves, the Brig falling in love, Fitz getting married, Peri bleaching her hair, Anji confronting the Doctor about Gallifrey, Sabbath saving the day and Ace snuffing it (yee-hah!).
I for one have enjoyed the ride immensely.
The Return of You Know Who by Steve Scott 15/11/03
I would like – if I may – to take you on a strange journey.
England. It’s Saturday September 10th 2005. The time is 18:30.
It’s BBC1. The news has just finished. There’s been yet another terrorist attack in the Middle East. But 10 million people don’t care.
The continuity announcer (over the image of a spinning globe, mercifully reinstated after all those crappy dancers) mentions, with tongue firmly in cheek, that perhaps we’d all like to get behind the sofa now.
The globe fades. A vortex of hypnotic colours unfolds across the screen. The theme music pulsates from the speakers.
The face of Richard O’Brien/John Cleese/Eddie Izzard/Ian McKellan/Kelsey Grammer/Donald Duck (delete as appropriate) stares out from the television.
It’s Doctor Who.
Gosh.
25 minutes later, and the Doctor’s charming assistant is tied to the railway line by the malevolent Master (or something). The closing credits crash in.
What now?
After all the waiting and speculation, Part One of the first new Who adventure for seven years is over. And what will the fan reaction be?
Disappointed.
Why? Take a cursory glance at the Who message boards. They’re rife with fan speculation about how the new series may take shape. Or, to be exact, how they think the new series should take shape.
It seems most fans are already debating (or should that be dictating?) amongst themselves about major things (the actor to play the Doctor) right down to some downright worrying aspects: which old foes should return – that old chestnut still won’t die – and best of all, how the new title sequence should pan out. Oh dear.
If fans take it upon themselves to discuss these nuts and bolts aspects of the new series, and speculate feverishly about how exactly they ought to turn out, we’ve problems.
It’s the eighties all over again. Sooner or later another Whizzkid will turn up in a future adventure.
Fans must stop believing that they’re bigger than the source. Without Who, we wouldn’t be fans in the first place.
So all I have to say to the future production team is this:
Make it adventurous. Make it witty. Make it stylish.
Make it the greatest programme ever made again.
And above all – whatever you do, don’t give a flying f**k what the fans think.
Including me.
An essay by Terrence Keenan 20/11/03
Tie me to a stake, I've committed fan heresy.
Um, sometimes in this strange land of fandom we exist in, you tend to forget that there are certain taboo areas where only orthodox views are allowed. And when you do cross said line, fatwahs are issued and the next thing you know, you're invited to a barbecue with you as the main course.
What mortal sin did I commit?
I merely mentioned that, perhaps, the Virgin Line of Doctor Who books might not be as good as the BBC line of Doctor Who books... maybe... in my opinion.
I should say how it started. I was checking out my normal Internet fan group area, when I saw the news about New TV Who, with Russell T. Davies running the show. I was in a grumpy mood and I mentioned in general that said new show would work best by not being a slave to continuity, be it book or old TV show. As I said, I was in a grumpy mood, so I took an admitted cheap shot at the Virgin Line.
Looking back, I should have kept my mouth shut.
So, one of my comrades comes back and disses the BBC line. Not wanting to back down, but also not wanting to start a flame war, I replied in order to state my main objective -- minimal to no continuity, stress the basics: Mysterious Doctor, Police Box to the universe, Hottie companion. Said comrade then takes another chance to blast the BBC line and said something to the effect that if I thought Fitz was a hottie, I needed to sue my shrink.
This pissed me off. So, I started a new thread where I gave a good representation as to why I favored the BBC line over the Virgin Line, but also pointed out that most of the books in both ranges aren't really that good if you try to look for anything beyond their TV tie in profit designations.
I should have seen it coming. Although my comrade stated why he disliked the BBC line -- not Virgin continuity, no Bernice Summerfield, etc. -- he seemed more upset that I had the temerity to even think that the BBC books might be more adventurous (in terms of style and ideas) than the Virgin line. I replied back, with some interesting counterpoints, but I doubt my comrade will respond, because the missive was prefaced with the opening phrase "last words on this subject."
The thing that got me going on this issue was not only some things I've seen at my own local internet Who hangout, but also at OG, the DWRG and other fan internet sites; a general bias against the BBC line. I compared this to general fan attitudes regarding current Who serials versus past Who serials, during the time of broadcast. Graham Williams got slammed by the fanboys for not doing serious, proper Who, like during the Pertwee years. John Nathan Turner took his fair share of abuse for similar reasons. I see the same thing with the books. The Virgin line got there first, and is considered serious, proper Book Who, while the BBC line is the bastard child which will never measure up to the glories of the past.
It's time to shatter a few myths. Both book lines have less than stellar regular characters. Both book lines had troublesome Doctors to write for. Both book lines wallowed in TV show continuity. Both book lines have their fair share of dreck within the lines. The BBC may have The Eight Doctors, Earthworld, The two John Peel Dalek books, to name some... But, the Virgin Line had Head Games, Lucifer Rising, No Future, Human Nature, Falls the Shadow and others that are just as diabolical. Where Virgin had an advantage is in a level of consistency in terms of how their Whoniverse was seen -- by the editorial staff and writers -- and the types of stories presented -- mostly future, space opera stuff. Also, all of their big concepts came directly, or indirectly from the TV series, specificially The Deadly Assassin and Seasons 25 and 26.
The BBC's advantage came from pushing the envelope and being more willing to try to invent new continuity, instead of basing everything on the past. One of the bravest things done was Justin Richards deciding to toss all old continuity when he came aboard. The BBC also allowed a far wider style of storytelling into their version of the Whoniverse. I don't believe Paul Magrs would have been allowed to put out The Scarlet Empress or The Blue Angel under the Virgin line.
Why do I think the BBC line is better? A couple of reasons. One is that I started with the BBC books first. They're my standard bearer in the same way that Tom Baker serials are for TV Who. I also enjoy the concepts the BBC is working with more than the concepts from the Virgin line. There's also a freely admitted 7th Doctor bias involved.
I can understand why people who claim the Virgin line is classic book Who. It's where they started. But, what troubles me is how opinions are wielded as facts. That they're not willing to be more open minded and admit that books like Alien Bodies, The Turing Test, The Banquo Legacy, Interference and others are damn good book Who, no matter who the publisher was.
Besides, who's to say the Virgin Line might not have gone in similar directions as the BBC line did if they still had the imprint.
Another argument I've been hit with is that the only reason the BBC line got into the publishing business was to make money on any old Who-related product. And Virgin was some sort of noble public cause? Please, don't delude yourself. The Virgin line was created after there were no more Target novelizations to put out. There was money to be made off of fanboys, so the next logical step was to write original Who stories. And, to be honest, if the BBC merchandisers had been prescient, they would have been putting out original Who books ages ago, and there would have been no Virgin line to discuss. And one more little point. The BBC was never as crass as the Virgin line as to put consumer surveys in the back of their books....
In any event, the smart thing to do would be to go ahead and admit my heresy, confess, restate the orthodox opinion, and wear a hair shirt for a few weeks as penance.....
...But I can't and won't. Minority opinions should not only be heard, but respected as well. The one thing I've always tried to do is show respect of other viewpoints, even when I vehemently disagree with them. Part of it is common courtesy, part of it is also that I might get a better understanding and maybe learn something.
It looks like I'll have to remain an unrepentant heretic for the time being.
The Book Companions, a rant by Terrence Keenan 22/12/03
In my essay about the book lines, I made a general comment about the book companions that wasn't nice, to put it mildly.
I made a cardinal error by not backing it up. It's always easy to attack things without backup. However, since I believe in putting my money where my mouth is, I'm going to spend some time explaining why the book companions haven't been much of a success. (Note: for this essay, I'm limiting the list of companions to Bernice Summerfield, New Ace, Roz, Cwej, Sam, Fitz Kreiner, Compassion and Anji.)
So, why do I think the book companions suck?
The first thing that comes up is a dearth of decent ideas. Bernice is
just fanboy wish fulfillment put on the page. New Ace is Xena with a
Perivale accent. Roz came on board to die a hero. Cwej was a goofball who
shagged anything female. Sam is TV Ace with less charm. Fitz is Bernice
with a sex change. Compassion became a 7 of 9 clone. Anji was a character
out of Thirtysomething, except not white.
In the case of Bernice Summerfield, although set up with some
interesting traits -- her love of boozing, her diary with rewritten
entries, her archaeological skills -- writers tended to transmute her into
versions of themselves on the page. From there Bernice could say things
that would please the reader. She became a comfortable character for
writers to handle, and therefore ended up being a bundle of fan-pleasing
traits, instead of a real character. The sad truth is that the only novel
where she is given any interesting character development is in Down. Lawrence Miles establishes all the standard
Bernice qualities, then manages to slowly subvert them, so by the end of
the novel, we feel we've actually learned something about her, instead of
the author.
Roz Forrester is possibly the best of the Virgin Book companions. Then
again, in the big scheme of things, the sole purpose of Roz was to die a
hero and give the seventh Doctor more angst. The big mistake was Kate
Orman having Roz and Cwej become lovers. It's fucking pointless, unless
you want to suck up to fanboy wish fulfillment. Besides, there was nothing
in Roz's character that ever suggested that she would be interested in her
adjudicator partner. Um, the one good thing about Roz was that she was a
right wing bigot in a TARDIS filled with left-wingers. But besides that,
her death and her skin color, what esle was there to Roz?
Then there's Cwej, the unstoppable sex machine. Hoo boy. I've come to
the unfortunate conclusion that Cwej's sole existence was to give the
writers the excuse to write sex scenes. In fact the only Cwej novel I've
read where he doesn't get his groove on is Christmas on a
Rational Planet. The only real character development he ever received
was in Dead Romance, where he was presented as a
nice man doing a horrible job for not very pleasant employers.
Ahh, Samantha Angeline Jones, holder of the title of "Most Despised
Companion Ever." I confess to having a soft spot for Sam, even if in most
of her stories she was complete bollocks. Well, first pimp slap goes to
Uncle Terrance Dicks for making her Ace with a blonde crew cut. Second
pimp slap goes to Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum, for turning Sam into
Agenda Girl. Then you have to smack around a lot of other writers who
basically did nothing with Sam except run her on automatic pilot -- state
leftist political point, pine about the Doctor sexually. The first step in
an interesting direction came from Loz Miles (notice a pattern here?) with
Alien Bodies, which came up with a clever rationale
for Sam's existence in the books so far. Jim Mortimore came up with an
interesting variation with the Sam that surfaced in Beltempest. A colossal fuckup who will help you whether
or not you wanted help. The OrmanBlum revived the aging comanion gimmick
used in previous novels to try and push the character forward, but the
other authors never ran with it (and although she turned 21 in Seeing I, there wasn't any real character development to
Sam, as she stayed the same basic character). It would take Lawrence
Miles's Interference to really dive into Sam and try
to make some sense of her. For the first time, an author decided to take a
character defined only by her politics and make sense of them. Alas, too
little, too late.
Fitz Kreiner has taken over Bernice's place as "The Companion Who Will
Never Leave." He's another fanboy wish-fulfillment character that's easy
to write for and easy to have fun with. He doesn't always succeed with the
ladies, has James Bond fantasies, gets used for comedy bits and wry
dialogue. Basically, Bernice with a schlong. And though Miles puts him
through the wringer in Interference, Fitz hasn't had
much character development beyond unerring loyalty to the Doctor. And,
honestly, he's overstayed his welcome and should have been booted out of
the TARDIS a long time ago.
My heart breaks when I think about Compassion. She gets my vote for
Best Book Companion. She had the greatest character development of any
companion in a very short time -- in six books, she went from villain to
TARDIS. Yet, many an author either sidelined her, or turned her into a 7
of 9 clone. As someone who hates Star Trek, I found it depressing. The
only authors besides Loz Miles to do anything with her were Mark Clapham
and Simon Butcher-Jones, who created the awesome version in The Taking of Planet 5. Nick Walters, writer of The Fall of Yquatine, deserves props for running with
the whole companion as TARDIS idea. It's just a crying shame that the
other authors didn't do all that much with her.
I don't have much to say about Anji Kapoor. There isn't a whole lot to
the character. She seems to be defined by her wavering trust in the Doctor
and her love for her dead boyfriend. Like Tegan, Anji doesn't seem to want
to see the universe and get into adventures. This is going to sound harsh,
but Anji seems to have been placed in the TARDIS as a nod to diversity and
multiculturalism.
I think part of the problem is that with a multi-author book series,
there is less consistency in terms of characters and their development.
Authors are only worrying about their deadline and telling their own
story. With a monthly output designed mainly to cash in on the fanboys,
there isn't much time to really define and develop characters in a
consistent fashion. In fact, the only character who had a definite start
to finish arc was Compassion, but even then, certain writers didn't have
the time to deal with her properly, or care to deal with her, so they
either ignored her, or turned her inot a character they knew and worked on
autopilot. You can see this in the early Bernice Summerfield tales: Ben
Aaronovitch dealt with the new companion by having her possessed and
making her a de facto villain, while he developed his own psuedo
companion, Kadiatu Lethbridge-Stewart. Gareth Roberts turns Bernice into a
combination of Sarah Jane Smith and Romana for The
Highest Science.
Well, I'm probably in the minority with this argument. But, if you look
at the big picture, you might see where I'm coming from.
Coming out as a Doctor Who fan... by Joe Ford
17/1/04
On 27th of December I went on a drinking binge with my friends from
work and I realised just how ashamed I was with my association with
Doctor Who actually was. You see I had four of the girls come to my
house before we headed out for the curry and the yard of ale and I spent
the hour before they arrived hiding every single piece of Doctor
Who merchandise I own, not an easy task considering I have every
video, DVD, book, CD and magazine. I was so desperate that none of them
saw how obsessed I was with the show, so scared that I would be labelled a
sad, nerdy anorak. I was petrified that I would be ousted as a loser.
I had my night out. I ate curry. I got blind drunk and sung jolly
Christmas songs through the streets of Eastbourne at half past one in the
morning.
And I came home and cried my eyes out. I sat in my living room,
suddenly devoid of DVDs, my pictures of Troughton, Tom Baker and Pertwee
and my books and I realised what a complete bastard I had been. I can't
think of many times in my life when I have felt THAT ashamed.
As Terrance Keenan so aptly put it, I LOVE Doctor Who. Its true,
I love the series, the books, the CDs. Even if I hate a certain story I
love ripping it to pieces on the Ratings Guide. There are only two things
in this life that I am more passionate than Doctor Who about, Simon
and Justin Timberlake. Like so many other Doctor Who fans Doctor
Who has given me so much, I feel entirely justified in saying much of
life is built around that silly little show. I crave the latest EDA. I
spend all day at wondering which story I can inflict on Simon at the end
of the day. I have written nearly 300 reviews on the subject and enjoyed
every single one.
Doctor Who has opened my mind to the fantastical, the
incredible, it has taught me that there is more to life than our earthly
troubles. There's magic in the stars, there are a million planets to
explore. History isn't a boring textbook lecture but a frightening,
colourful, exciting subject, full of cultures that are as alien to my
world as Alpha Centauri. There is a man out there who will always put his
life on the line for others, crack a joke in the face of adversity, stand
up to the bullies and whisk you away for adventures in time and space just
when you need it. Who could fail to hate something that takes all these
things and whisks them up on shoestring budget?
But it's not just the series but also it's fandom that I enjoy a long
relationship with. One of my best ever friends I met through the Ratings
Guide. I have regular correspondence with Rob Matthews, a man who never
fails to point out my strengths and flaws. I feel a part of a larger
audience and its warm feeling to know that so many other people out there
love the same thing, that there are so many different opinions on every
single piece of merchandise, that we all contribute to make the show that
bit more special.
So why oh why oh why am I so bloody ashamed of something that has
brought me so much joy? Acceptance into a 'cooler' crowd? Fear of being
labelled? The mocking laughter? Yeah, probably all of these and more. I
realised that night I was selling myself a bit short, that I was trying to
convince people I was something I'm not just to spare myself the
embarrassment of their reactions.
And I bet I'm not the only one. I bet there are more Joe Fords out
there who hide the covers of their books on the train, who pretend they
are listening to the latest hip hop when The Evil of the
Daleks is chugging away in their ear, who get their partners (the
shameâ^À¦) to go to the cash point of HMV and buy the videos.
But God isn't it MORE embarrassing to hide away something you LOVE so
much? I have never been so embarrassed in my life as I was when I opened
my wardrobe stuffed full of books and vids.
I went to work today and (because I am halfway through Short Trips:
The Muses) put down my book on the middle of the table in the staff
room and prepared myself for the onslaught. Two girls laughed at me and
blushed bright red. But one lady admitted she never missed an episode when
it was on telly. Another asked me what the book was about and we got into
an intelligent conversation about short stories (whilst the two giggling
girls went back to their conversation about David Beckham's package).
Someone came into the room and asked me if I had The
Three Doctors DVD with the Bessie toy! Ohmigod! There were other
closet fans in the room! People I see everyday and I had no idea! Yeah so
I was mocked all afternoon with the phrase "Exterminate" in an array of
silly voices but for some reason I couldn't stop smiling.
The reason I am writing this is for all you fans out there who behave
as I do. Don't be embarrassed about your obsession with this fabulous
show. Aren't those who try and label you as sad missing out on something
special and wonderful? Aren't they the sad ones by closing their eyes to
something just because it isn't 'in' right now?
I have no doubt in my mind that when Russell T Davies brings back the
show with a bigger budget and some grit and polish it will once again be
safe to admit your love for Doctor Who in public. We are due
another renaissance. I am just glad I managed to out myself before then,
rather than taking the easy option. I'm finally out of the closet and have
invited somebody around next week to watch a DVD or two over a bottle of
wine. Oh gee, now I'll have to spend the next week deciding which one to
pop in. Argh, there I go again... afraid of embarrassment. Maybe I'll just
pop in Time and the Rani!
Embrace your Who-ness folks! Wear your Tom Baker underpants with
pride! And don't forget; always be who you are and not what other people
would like you to be. Doctor Who is fabulous and I don't care who
knows it.
The Frock Coat Dogma by Andrew Wixon
27/1/04
Let me tell you about the hottest day of July 1999. It was a Saturday,
part of a marvellous weekend for all my family. My sister got married. I
got to sing karaoke in front of the assembled clan and our friends (my
aunt, as usual, tried to upstage me, but - ha! - failed). We saw some old
friends for the first time in an age...
...and I got to stride the streets of Leicester pointing dramatically,
cheerfully ignoring the bemused and hostile looks of strangers,
overemphasising my dialogue and generally having a wonderful time. Why was
that? you ask. Well, my sister and her new husband were of a
traditional-minded bent and asked me to be a groomsman at the wedding.
Which I was quite honoured by, but the real clincher to the deal was this:
the groom and all his supporters wore the same outfit. Yes, that's right:
for one day I had the perfect excuse to wander about in a frock coat!
As far as the great British public are concerned, sartorially speaking,
Doctor Who - for all its longevity and breadth - can be summed up
in one word: scarf. You know what I mean. 'Tom Baker played scarf-wearing
time traveller Doctor Who for seven record-breaking years', says
the TV guide, 'Richard's not a proper Doctor Who, he's not even
going to wear the scarf,' says a certain thespian's agent. And people
quite rightly can get a bit hacked off about this. Contemptible shorthand,
they mutter, proceeding to list all the stories where Tom Baker's scarf
never touched his shoulders.
And yet it seems to me that many of us are just as guilty of a similar
offence. It's more of a mindset, really, which I've come to refer to as
the Frock Coat Dogma, which, roughly speaking, is the automatic assumption
that the composite Doctor - the archetypal, aggregate character of whom
all the others are but aspects - is a frock-coat wearer. I have been
guilty of it myself in the past, as many residents of the Wigston suburb
of Leicester will probably attest. I really only became aware of it in
1996 and the years after. Yes, 1996, year of the all-new TV movie with the Pertwee logo. Kisses to the past.
Back to basics, proper Doctor Who. Old-fashioned, old-school stuff.
God, looking back, couldn't you just have predicted it was doomed from
the word go?
There seems to have been some confusion in Phil Segal's mind about his
new Doctor. On the one hand, fiercely dedicated to getting Paul McGann to
play the part, repeatedly saying he was the first - maybe even the only -
choice. On the other, he had a very fixed conception as to how the
character should look, one that McGann himself had very little say into
(McGann was famously not keen on the wig, but overruled by his boss). So
the new Doctor would have long hair (fair enough), not be covered in
question-mark-insignia (hallelujah), and - of course - wear a frock coat.
When did we all decide a frock coat was the Doctor's default item of
outerwear? Because this certainly seems to be the case. 'A man in a frock
coat, having adventures with monsters in space and time' was, roughly
speaking, how no less an authority than Steven Moffatt boiled the series
down to its irreducible core a few years back. Yes, no-one is immune to
the Frock Coat Dogma and its insidious effects - even Malcolm Hulke has a
twinge of it in his novelisation of ...and the
Silurians.
Now it's not like me to go into a rant without doing some research and
I've tracked down the following definition of a frock coat from 'The
Gentleman's Page' on the super information web net. Ahem:
So it looks like the myth behind the Frock Coat Dogma has its roots -
like so much else that is bad in the realm of Who - in the early to
mid 80s, when men were men, monsters were inevitably returning, and the
regulars wore costumes rather than clothes. It's one of those weird
dichotomies that characterises the period - on the one hand, there's a
desperate lunge towards naturalism in the presentation of the regulars
(they talk about the previous week's story, eat proper meals, have tedious
rows, etc), but on the other, they wear ludicrous outfits that would give
Trinny and Susannah a stroke and wear them for months on end. (The
TARDIS must either have had brilliant laundry facilities or stunk like an
old jock strap.) They are obviously costumes, but they are also uniforms,
identifiers of who they are. Presumably the production team didn't think
their faces were distinctive enough by themselves.
Does any of this babbling matter? Well, maybe, or so I like to hope.
Clothes maketh the man, and surely even the concept of 'a man in a frock
coat' is an unnecessary limitation on the idea of the Doctor. It's a handy
shorthand but it's lazy and a dangerous step along the path that leads to
thinking that there is a single, proper, 'right' Doctor - when this
clearly isn't so. He's not limited to a single mode of heroism any more
than he's limited to a single mode of dress. Furthermore, any kind
of dogma - be it over-adherence to continuity, costume, or a particular
style of storytelling - is bad for Doctor Who, leading to all kinds
of creative stagnation. As became apparent as the early-to-mid 80s salad
days of the quasi-frock coat more than adequately demonstrate.
And the dangers inherent in the Frock Coat Dogma, along with the
wonderful things that can happen when its pernicious influence is shaken
off, have no clearer illustration than in the McCoy years. McCoy wears
Colin Baker's old frock coat for most of his first episode (a necessary
evil) but after this he has no truck with the Dogma whatsoever, opting for
a nice cosy dufflecoat on one occasion and the legendary cream and brown
jackets the rest of the time. He looks perfectly great, and no less
Doctorish.
And behold! Freed from the Frock Coat Dogma's stranglehold on
perceptions of the Doctor's wardrobe and character, we got a radical and
fresh interpretation, a quantum leap forward in some of the storytelling
values (admittedly a lot of the others went completely out of the window,
but you can't make an omelette, etc), and a re-energised show ready to
face the brave new world of 90s TV in style. Until it got cancelled,
obviously.
I'm serious. The Frock Coat Dogma is nobody's friend. In its own way
it's far worse than the more commonplace Scarf Misconception. It
symbolises a failure of imagination of the gravest kind and, as such,
strikes at the very heart of our show. I'm starting a petition to make
sure Russell T Davies sticks the new guy in a kagoule, or something. Who's
with me?
God, Death, and the Devil: Forays into the occult and
mythological by Terrence Keenan
29/1/04
I was inspired to write this essay from a throwaway line in a review of
mine:
The Daemons features the Doctor taking on God. Azal the daemon may look
like a devil/demon, and may be conjured up by black masses (complete with
Alistair Crowley philosophy appropriations), but his attitude is far more
in line with Yahweh, the Old Testament God than with Old Scratch. The
Doctor provides the link by claim that Azal is "amoral, not evil." That
Azal is willing to destroy the world and start from scratch is a nod to
Noah's tale and the Great Flood. By granting his powers to another, Azal
is proclaiming a new messiah who can guide the others into enlightenment.
Image of the Fendahl has the Doctor facing off
with Death. The Fendahl "absorb all energy from the entire spectrum." The
Doctor even acknowledges the Fendahl as death: "How do you kill death
itself?" That the entity consists of faceless giant slug like entities
being led by a golden, pleasant-looking female form emphasizes that death
is faceless, beyond morals, and indiscriminate (a list of Fendahl victims
includes an unknown hitchhiker as well as members of the cult which tried
to bring it into being).
The Devil is the enemy in The Curse of Fenric.
Although there is an attempt to dress Fenric up in Nose mythology, the
Doctor labelling Fenric "Evil from the Dawn of Time," and Fenric's method
of setting traps and playing games would be more in line with the devious
Satan of Christian lore. The Curse of Fenric uses
the Manichean (I think that's how it's spelled) ideal of Absolute
good/Absolute evil, which has its basis in Christianity.
There are common elements in all three tales: an Earthbound, small town
setting; paranormal powers that affect forces; a sympathetic character
that represents the "old ways". Two of the stories link the creatures
mythology directly to Earth, while a different pairing goes out of their
way to give "rational explanations" of events.
The earthbound, small town setting is important for all three stories.
One is that it's a horror convention -- giant malevolent force arrives in
a nice small town where there are no secrets and everybody knows everybody
else. It's a way to balance personal stories against the greater battle.
Psionics, visions and faith are all versions of psychic powers. The
Master has mind control of Bok the gargoyle and can create psychic storms
with his mind, such as the one he shows to the Squire of Devil's End. Ma
Tyler has had visions since she was a child and has her gift not only
locate the Fendahl within Fetch Prior, but also almost cause her demise by
shock. Faith is the only defence against the Haemovores, "creating a
psychic barrier" as the Doctor states in Fenric.
Olive Hawthorne, Ma Tyler and Reverend Wainwright all serve similar
functions. They are defined by their faith. Olive believes in White Magic,
Ma Tyler in "the old ways" and Rev. Wainwright in his religion, so he
thinks. Each of these characters is brought face to face with the menace
(in Wainwright's case it's indirectly through the haemovores) before the
Doctor meets/defines the very nature of the forces involved.
The Daemons and The Curse of
Fenric link their mythology to Earth, with the Daemons affecting human
race memory and Fenric through the Viking runes and families in the town
graveyard and church records. Image of the Fendahl is
less fluid in its link to the Earth, as the Doctor presents two theories
on how the Fendahl might have influenced man, and then claims it could be
just a coincidence. The stronger link is to Gallifreyan mythology, as the
Doctor knew of the Fendahl from a story told him as a child, and by the
Time Lords time looping the Fendahl's planet of origin.
The Daemons and Image of the
Fendahl both go out of their way to ground the mystical in "rational"
sci-fi terminology. Everything the Master does to summon Azal is described
as "remnants of the science of the daemons." Azal himself labels people in
terms of rational/not rational and claims that Earth is just another
experiment. The Fendahl is described as an "evolutionary blind alley". The
Fendahl skull's pentagram is referred to as a "neural relay" and can be
activated by a time scanner. It's suggested that the Fendahl are the cause
for Mars being lifeless. And although referred to as a creature from the
Doctor's mythology, the Time Lord's looping of the fifth planet grounds
the legend in the reality of the Whoniverse. And both Fendahl and The Daemons both use
concepts from Quartermass and the Pit. Fenric is mentioned as "Evil from
the Dawn of Time," coming into birth during the creation of the Universe,
but unexplained beyond that point.
Where these stories differ is in the details, and parts of the
execution.
The Daemons is more concerned about the battle
between the Doctor and the Master and letting the UNIT family hang out.
The interaction between the Doctor and Azal only happens in the last
episode, and the Doctor seems more concerned about the Master receiving
Azal's gift than defeating the daemon. That the daemon is defeated by Jo's
act of self-sacrifice diverts the showdown between the Doctor and Azal we
should expect. It also reduces Azal to the level of the doomsday weapon
from the previous serial Colony in Space.
Image of the Fendahl is at its heart a horror
story, although wearing science fiction drag. The works of H.P. Lovecraft
are an influence, as well as conventional horror trapping such as the Mad
Scientist, the Old Dark House, the Haunted Woods, Vision of Death, etc.
The Doctor also never verbally confronts the Fendahl, unlike in both The Daemons and Fenric, which
makes sense if you're showing death to be an all-powerful force without
morals.
The Curse of Fenric delves in horror archetypes,
but is at its heart a morality play. Good and Evil will fight, with one
side winning. Since good cannot exist without evil, it is fitting that
Fenric is merely trapped within the contamination chamber by the end. Evil
has been banished, for the moment. That the Doctor doesn't show fear, or
admit to fearing Fenric gives this serial a sense of finality in this
battle of good and evil
So, what we have are three serials which cover familiar territory: The
Doctor battling mythic foes. As to the degree of success they achieve,
I'll let you make up your own mind.
Love, TARDIS Style... by Terrence Keenan
2/2/04
Love in the TARDIS has been a well-explored topic in the long run of
Who books, with companions hooking up with each other (Roz and
Cwej, Sam and Fitz), companions having crushes on the Doctor (Sam,
Bernice) and even once a companion starting a booty call with our hero
(Read The Dying Days to find out about that little
tidbit). The books are aimed at an older audience than the TV series, so
you could get away with showing the love stories that fanboys dreamed of
happening in the serials.
Leaving out the TV movie (for obvious reasons),
any sort of Who couplings and romances have been smuggled in
through the back door. After all Who is a children's/family show,
and snogging and shagging just would have corrupted minds already
teetering on the edge due to ultraviolence.
Mention love in the serials, and the usual suspects pop up: The first
Doctor pitching the woo and getting engaged to Cameca in The Aztecs (the most overt love story), Ian and Barbara,
Ben and Polly, Sarah and Harry, the fourth Doctor and Romana II, the fifth
Doctor and Tegan, and the fifth Doctor and Peri. Most of these can be
explained through fan wish fulfillment, and in the case of one, behind the
scenes romance.
But, there is one true love story in the long history of Who. It
might have popped up by accident, hovered in the background, and then
became as overt as would be allowed in Who by the end. That it
ended on a downbeat note makes it all the more poignant. It culminates in
a powerful exit scene that transcends a less than stellar era.
Le Affair du Josephine Grant and the third Doctor.
It's something I've mentioned before (in my piece
on Jo Grant and my Green Death critique), but
it really comes together when you watch seasons 8 through 10 in order. You
have to wonder if it was something that Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks had
planned all along, or just discovered it by accident and decided it would
be a nice way to sum up our little Jo.
On the surface, the first meeting between the Doctor and Jo is to show
that Miss Grant is not the Mighty Liz Shaw, capable smart scientist of
season 7. However, it's also how boy meets girl in many a screwball
comedy. If this were Hollywood in the Thirties, then Jo would be played by
Carole Lombard and the Doctor by Cary Grant. Our bubbly Jo introduces
herself to the Doctor and wrecks his project with a fire extinguisher. The
Doctor insults Jo. Jo apologizes with those big brown eyes of hers and
manages to ingratiate herself to the Doctor. The Doctor softens a bit,
lets her tag along.
From there the Doctor and Jo get in and out of trouble, rescue each
other and by the time Terror of the Autons ends, Jo
is in love with the Doctor -- not in a paternal way, either. And the
Doctor might be in love with Jo, but if he is, he much better off hiding
his feelings than Jo. (Then again, he is a Time Lord and not a human, so
that comes with the territory.)
So, over the rest of season 8, we see this dynamic duo get into and out
of dangerous situations, swap the occasional insult and life story, and be
ready to die for each other, highlighted by the finale of The Daemons, where Jo is willing to die in place of the
love of her life, the Doctor. Alas, the Doctor is still unwilling to admit
his feelings.
In season 9, Jo is still hung up on the velvet-wearing frilled dandy
with the mighty nose, but the Doctor by now is pretty oblivious to this.
He does care for Jo, but still isn't willing to admit his feelings (or
unable to). However, by The Time Monster, the
Doctor tells Jo the "dasiest daisy" story, which is the first overt chink
in his love-proof armor. Again, the season ends with Jo willing to
sacrifice herself in the name of love, and does so, only to be saved by
the Chronovore.
Business picks up in season 10. In The Three
Doctors, Jo wants to stay at the Doctor's side through all the strange
events that occur, even wanting to share his exile in Omega's anti-matter
universe. The Doctor might be touched by Jo's wish to remain with him, but
he's still unwilling to admit his feelings. In Carnival
of Monsters, the next big crack in the love barrier appears in the
Doctor. He's determined to return to the miniscope to rescue Jo, because
it's starting to dawn on the old boy that he's in love.
While on the Master's police ship during Frontier
in Space, there's a scene where the Doctor and Jo tell their life
stories up to that point. On the surface, it's supposed to distract the
Master while the Doctor tries another daring escape, but it sounds more
like a couple reminiscing about how they first met and their first
impressions of each other. Also, when Jo thinks the Doctor is drifting out
to space, she tries to put on a brave front, but breaks down into tears,
because she's afraid she's lost her true love.
In Planet of the Daleks, the Doctor is furious
and also deeply sad when he thinks the Daleks have blown up Jo along with
the Thal ship on Spiridon. Another sign of love pops up and says hello.
Their reunion is far more affectionate than you'd see between friends. Jo
has a flirtation with Latep, and at the end, Latep offers to take Jo to
Skaro, after asking permission from the Doctor. The Doctor gives his
blessing, but you can tell he hopes Jo will say no, which she does,
because Jo is hoping old Big Nose will get the hint.
The Green Death brings the love story out into the
open. It begins with the Doctor and Jo having a cute argument over where
they're going. It gets more serious when the Doctor finally comes out and
admits his love by proposing to her. "I'm offering you the Universe and
all time." But Jo is fed up and decides to meet another "Doctor" one
Professor Clifford Jones, whom she describes as "a younger (and shaggable)
you". The Doc says to himself, "The fledgling finally leaves the nest,"
which is his way of saying, "I love you, you flibbertigibbet, and I'm too
late." Jo and Cliff meet in a cute way, just like the Doctor and Jo in Terror of the Autons. Sparks fly, and it's obvious that
love is in the air between Jo and Cliff. Even Big Nose sees it. What does
the Doc do? He acts like a jealous old twat in episode three where he
barges in on Jo and Cliff pre-snog and drags Cliff off to do boy's stuff.
There's a moment of tension when it's hinted that the Doctor's jealousy
might be behind his choice to kill the maggots first before saving Cliff's
life. By going back and curing Cliff, the Doc shows he's ready to give Jo
away. In the final scene, Cliff proposes to Jo, and she accepts. Jo gives
Cliff a gift by calling her influential uncle and getting him to back the
Nuthutch. Cliff takes Jo on a honeymoon up the Amazon, a land just as
strange as Inter-Minor or the Ogron planet or Spiridon. Cliff then tells
the Doc he'll take care of Jo, a blatant way of showing that even old
Cliff knew Big Nose's feelings toward Miss Grant. The Doctor puts on the
love-proof armor for a moment when he presents her with the crystal and
asks for a slice of wedding cake. But, by this time, the holes are obvious
and the Doc drives off into the setting sun, after once last glance back
at the Nuthutch.
You know, just as I finished writing this, I think I answered my own
question about whether or not the Jo/Doctor romance was planned. I think
it was. Once Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks decided to switch companions,
they decided to smuggle in the love story. And once smuggled in, they
allowed it to surface and hide when needed, before bringing it out for all
to see for Jo's finale.
So, there it is, the one great love story, TARDIS style.
How to Introduce Us to Your Monster! by David Barnes
6/2/04
The monsters are a very integral part of Doctor Who, or at least
used to be. Generally, when we think of a monster, it's a huge, slimy
thing, killing off Terry Walsh as the theme music crashes in. There are
lots of definitions of the word "monster." dictionary.com has a fair few ones
listed, including a legendary creature that combines animal or human
parts, something with a frightening appearance, something large, something
with physical abnormalities, or something that inspires fear or terror.
All of these fit in with what our view of a monster is, and all fit into
the context of the program. The Terileptil leader is a good example of a
monster from the series that combines all of these; a large, nasty looking
human/lizard thing, with a scarred face who's generally pretty
iffy-looking. However, there's a fact that may have slipped your notice:
Not all monsters on Doctor Who are scary.
OK, yes, you already knew that. Most of you are sitting there,
knowingly pointing at a photograph of a Mandrel, or the Nucleus. However,
why isn't the Mandrel scary? It's a large, humanoid dog creature, with a
loud roar, and it kills people. I wouldn't like to find myself going round
the shops only to be rugby-tackled by one of them. However, in the safe
old world of Doctor Who (where the monster won't leap out of the
telly, unless you're a character in The Exorcist), it looks silly, quite
frankly. Why?
Well, most of you can come up with reasons. The headlamp eyes, for one.
The fact that its arms seem way too long for their bodies. The fact that
they can be tamed by a dog whistle. Etc. and so forth. However, I reckon
it's because of the way it's introduced to us in Nightmare of Eden. Here's the end of episode 1, done
twice:
The Doctor and the Captain, followed by K9, walk down the corridors of
the dark and gloomy space-liner. Sparks emanate from seared wires, and
flashes of light cast long shadows over the walls. The Doctor stops, as if
trying to hear something and the music begins to take on a slow, eerie
tone. As the Captain and K9 go forth, he whirls round - but there's
nothing there. He moves on. Eventually, they reach a particular section of
wall, in a particularly dark and particularly gloomy part of the ship, and
the Doctor tells K9 to begin cutting through the wall. As K9 sets about
his task, a low, guttural roar is heard in the shadows. The Doctor sees
something moving about, but it darts out of his eyesight. Suddenly, a
surge of energy from the flapping wires shoots out at K9, and his metal
body is bathed in an electric glow. The Doctor inspects him, to find that
K9 is deactivated. As the music builds up, a loud roar is heard behind him
and he looks over his shoulder, trying desperately to locate the source of
the noise. To his left, a large creature, its features briefly lit up in
the brief spasms of light from seared wires, slivers from the darkness and
brutally kills the Captain, who screams. The camera cuts rapidly from the
Captain, to the Doctor and to the monster as the music increases in
tension. The monster lets the body of the Captain drop to the floor and,
as the music reaches a crescendo, leaps from the shadows at the Doctor as
the cliffhanger sting plays.
The Doctor and the Captain, followed by K9, stroll casually down the
corridors of the brightly-lit space-liner. It all looks terribly neat and
tidy, really. After a bit of meaningless banter, the Doctor stops and
tells K9 to cut through a section of wall. K9 does this, and we see every
second of it, with no music. Eventually, he finishes his job, and the
Doctor and the Captain take the small section of wall away. A monster pops
forth from the hole, its ludicrous features bathed in light, and waves its
arms about for a bit.
The latter is unfortunately what we got. If the Mandrel had got a
proper entrance, than maybe it might not have been so maligned later.
Sure, it looked hilarious, but if it'd been introduced right, it could
have been great. The Mandrel isn't referred to before the cliffhanger, and
doesn't appear until then, so a brief bit of tension in the final scene
would have done it wonders.
So, what is a good balance? What gives the monster some impact? Listed
below are a selection of different types of monster appearances, with
examples to back them up.
Give your monster a cliffhanger
Example: The Daleks
Generally in Dalek stories, characters wander about wondering what
could have happened to London/what could be in the space capsule/what
could have dragged the TARDIS down to Earth to a small, deserted shed?
Then, in the closing seconds of the episode "GASP! It's a Dalek!
"EXTERMINATE!" "AHHHHHHH!" TEEEKKKOOOOOOOOO! (That's a cliffhanger noise
by the way). Wonderful! The Daleks look ludicrous by today's standards,
but when they first appeared they were new, and pretty damn scary. Over
the course of a few episodes, they asserted themselves as some pretty bad
guys, so when they next appeared the viewer automatically thought "This
bin means business!" Reputation aided their impact.
The first episode of their second story, called World's End,
gives no clues as to what's happening until the end, when suddenly a Dalek
rises from the river in a top notch cliffhanger. It works because it's
unexpected.
However, the Daleks are usually confounded by their story titles.
Almost every Dalek story mentions them in the title, meaning that every
episode 1 seems like 24 minutes of padding until the action starts. The
first story in which this becomes a problem is The Evil
of the Daleks, which has the Doctor pratting about for an episode
trying to find significance in a cigarette packet and talking to shifty
car mechanics, trying to work out who may have taken the TARDIS.
Unfortunately, the viewer already knows from the story title - it was the
Dalek, with the ray gun, in the antiques shop. This carries on through the
Pertwee years, and beyond.
However, sometimes the presence of the Daleks themselves overcomes
this. The cliffhanger to part 1 of Genesis of the
Daleks is superbly chilling, and the first appearance of our metallic
foes in Resurrection of the Daleks as they glide
forth from the smoke of an explosion, though not a cliffhanger, is pretty
damn decent. However, more often than not, something else thwarts them.
Some Daleks make a hugely dramatic appearance as they smash through a
wall... and then ruin this by hollering "DO NOT MOVE!" 7 times in a row.
The Daleks glide forth from their spaceship... and then spend 6 seconds
firing guns that clearly don't work. The Daleks are done in by dodgy
editing as well as dodgy titles.
Verdict: More often than not, the Dalek entrance is too heavily
signposted and sloppily made to really give them gravitas.
Slow build up, leading to monster appearing from shadows
Example: The Anti-Matter Monster
Possibly the only good thing about Planet of Evil
is the evil red outline monster that appears throughout episode 2,
floating about as extras throw themselves extravagantly from their
spaceship. However, before that, during the course of episode 1,
characters run around, scared out of their minds as strange sounds are
heard all about them, before being killed by an unseen foe. Sarah walks
through the jungle and suddenly freezes, unable to move as some force acts
upon her instincts. Then, as the Doctor and Sarah escape from a hut at the
end of part 1, the noises start again. Trying in vain to hide, a huge
thing appears from the darkness and floats slowly over to them, as the
sounds increase in volume.
Verdict: Fantastic! A dream entrance.
Give your monster too slow a build up
Example: The Rutan
We spend 80 minutes waiting to see what the creature that's been
killing everyone off at the lighthouse looks like. The viewer anticipation
is thus built up tremendously high. Then we see the monster, providing
remarks of "Is that it???" (Actually, we do see a few brief shots of the
Rutan blobbing about, but let's not worry for the moment).
Verdict: Again, not too good. If your monster looks wonderfully
grotesque, then create a good build up. However, if the appearance is
likely to disappoint everyone, just shove it into the episode 1
cliffhanger and have done with it.
Give your monster a slow build up, and then give up half way through
Example: The Fomasi
This is an odd one. Roughly the same as the previous entry, with a
difference. The production team take good steps in keeping the monster a
mystery, by having lots of brief shots of scaled hands and clawed feet and
blinking eyes. However, this goes on for 2 and a half episodes, building
up the viewer anticipation over too long a time. It then gets introduced
in as boring a way as possible in the middle of part 3, as the camera
suddenly cuts to Tom Baker merrily chatting with one sitting idly on a
bench. No musical stings or anything. See also the Terileptils; two shots
of a fist thumping a desk, and then the alien just wanders into camera
with no tension built at all.
Verdict: Not very good. Building up anticipation for the monster only
works if they unveil it in a suitable way.
Do nothing at all
Example: The Visians
Invisible monsters from The Daleks' Master Plan,
these poor buggers don't even get a proper entrance because, well, they're
invisible. An unconscious Sara is inspected by a mysterious force, and the
Doctor fights for his life against something in the jungles of Mira, but
once the Doctor casually mentions that he knows what's happening, and that
the monsters are invisible, well, that's that. The viewer doesn't really
care as mysterious roars start... roaring, as we'll never see them. Pretty
soon, the Daleks arrive and start gunning down the lot of them anyway, so
they don't even get any screen time.
Verdict: Rubbish. Actually create something for your heroes to battle
against; don't just play some stock jungle animal noises and make the lead
actor swish his cane about.
Surprise Twist
Example: Cybermen
Of course, I'm talking about Earthshock. Other
Cyberstories introduce them in different ways, but Earthshock does it best. 24 minutes has been spent with
characters wandering about as they get bumped off, one by one. Androids
lurk in the shadows. The Doctor says they're being controlled. Who by?
Slow close up on the Doctor from the android viewpoint - we're about to be
told. Cut to Cybermen, accompanied by loud musical sting. "Destroy them!
Destroy. Them. At. Once!" Cliffhanger. Wonderful. And I'm not even a fan
of Earthshock.
Verdict: The opposite to a slow build up, but rather effective.
Sometimes no build up at all can work.
Don't tell your viewers everything... yet
Example: The Sontarans
This lot get a taste of the surprise twist bit in The Invasion of Time. However, I'm looking at
their first appearance here. This is of the "you don't know the full
picture" type of monster, in The Time Warrior. Linx
appears fairly early on, but appears to just be a spaceman. Then, at the
end of part 1, accompanied by some eerie music that builds up to the
cliffhanger sting, Linx slowly takes his helmet off, facing away from the
camera. It takes a split second for the brain to register that the
spaceman is a monster. Then, Linx turns round, and see the full horror of
his features. Cue music. Brilliant.
They then tried this again in The Sontaran
Experiment, but it didn^Òt work as well, since the story is called The Sontaran Experiment (though, for viewers who hadn't
heard of the alien race beforehand, like myself when I first saw it, it's
still a pretty effective cliffhanger).
Verdict: Top notch.
Confound viewer expectation
Example: The Auton Policeman
You've called your story Terror of the Autons.
Episode 1 has been spent with people running about talking about the
Nestene sphere. The Master makes himself in charge of a plastics factory.
Yup, the Autons are here. So how do you make them seem dramatic? By
preying on viewer expectations. Some policemen rescue the Doctor and Jo
from the clutches of some vicious circus folk. Good, they're safe. Benton
tells the Brigadier that the policemen weren't policemen. Eh, what's
happening? Enemy agents? The Doctor gets suspicious of his rescuers and
asks one to turn round. Right, the Doctor is going to realise they're
blokes dressed up in copper's uniforms, and he's going to knock them out
and dive from the car. Sorted.
Instead, the Doctor leans forward... and peels off the policeman's
face. A smooth, shiny, domed head stares blankly back at him. Cliffhanger
sting. Chilling.
Verdict: One of the best.
Make the monster fall out of a cupboard
Example: Wirrn
Harry wanders about looking for a medical kit as the music builds up.
Something's going to happen soon. Harry yanks open a cupboard, and we
register the quick glimmer of fear on his face. Great!
Then an obviously empty suit topples over, whacking into the camera.
Yup.
Verdict: Dead insects don't frighten people. How many children were
frightened by Barbara side-stepping a dead bee in Planet
of Giants?
So, nine different ways of introducing your monster. There's doubtless
a lot more. What have we learnt?
Under the Radar -- Smuggling ideas into serial Who by
Terrence Keenan
7/2/04
I was clued into something very interesting the last time I watched The Masque of Mandragora. Something beyond the great Tom
Baker/Lis Sladen chemistry, the excellent period costumes and another
visit to the recurring Who theme of reason versus superstition.
Masque has the first gay relationship in
Who -- Guliano and Marco. And what makes it really fun is that it
complements the reason/superstition debate and spin it in a new direction,
one of reason in human relationships. If you want the clues, check out how
Marco and Guliano act around each other. Guliano refers to Marco as "my
best best friend." Guliano is very upset about Marco's capture and is
ready to charge off to his rescue before being halted by the Doctor and
Sarah. Marco is ashamed that he "outed" Guliano as a member of the cult of
Demnos under torture. And it's Marco that gives Guliano the smartest
advice as to how to rule once his uncle is killed. Marco fills what would
normally be a queen/princess/duchess part. Not to mention that although
Guliano is polite to Sarah, there's nary a hint of a flirtation. Then
there's the Doctor's final words to Guliano: "Keep an open mind. It's the
only way to learn," which gives the Guliano/Marco relationship a seal of
approval.
I was stunned, shocked. I thought it was brilliant. Why? Well, because
it's there, but doesn't draw attention to itself. Which appeals to me more
than say overt signals and signposts.
Robert Holmes did a bit of smuggling in The Ribos
Operation. I know you're thinking I'm talking about old Binro the
Heretic. Nope, it's with the Seeker. Who, at that point was grounded in a
very "rational" universe. Hence the black magic in The
Daemons is called "the remnants of the science of the Daemons." And
yet, we're never given any rationale for how the Seeker does what she
does. It's not explained as ESP, a common Who attribute which is
common enough in many a sci-fi tale. Yet, the Seeker's abilities are given
equal weight as Binro's observations. Your Who fan will relate to
Binro because he's a Gallileo clone, as well as gravitate toward the
rationale arguments. But maybe Holmes was thinking that there's no way I
can get away with having magic in a Who tale, so let me focus a bit
on Binro, and that way the Seeker can do her thing without people thinking
on it too hard.
I do side with Binro. Absolutely. But, what I find interesting is that
Holmes gave both the rational and the mystic equal weight, very rare for
any Who prior to the McCoy years.
'The frock coat was single or double breasted, usually black,
bottom hem above the knee, and distinguished by a squared shape at the
bottom front. Its companion, the morning coat was single breasted and has
a rounded, swallow tail shape. Both were refered to as "morning" dress, to
distinguish them from evening dress.'
I will grant you that the default Hartnell and Troughton costumes fit the
'morning coat' definition pretty well, but as far as 'frock coats' go -
well, it looks like McGann's starting his own tradition a la Uncle Tel,
because of all the overcoats, corduroy jackets, smoking jackets, ulsters,
capes and cloaks worn by the first four Doctors, none of them match that
description particularly closely. The Davison and Colin Baker costumes get
the shape about right, but, God knows, no sane person would ever wear
either of their coats in public. Even so, this is the longest prolonged
period of genuine quasi-frock coat wearing in the history of the show.
The Curse of Fenric is a redo of
The Daemons.
It's a statement that, in retrospect, isn't entirely accurate. What I
should have said is that The Curse of Fenric mines
familiar territories that both The Daemons and Image of the Fendahl explored. The Doctor is taking on
big mythological enemies. If you want, you can add both The Greatest Show in the Galaxy and Pyramids of Mars to the mix, but I think they're
fundamentally different enough in terms of style, detail and execution to
exclude from this discussion.
Having eaten up about 10 minutes of your time, I now leave you to ponder
all this whilst I practice lurching from shadows, trying to scare the
cat. Good night.