This next post was sposed to be a Tom Baker Special. This isn't quite ready yet, so have a regular Dr Who post, followed quite soon, by a small departure - A Peter Capaldi books post will be next - because I like his Doctor but haven't really liked his era on TV as yet, so thought I'd see if the books so far associated with him were better. They were. So that soon to come. But now - Regular Scheduled Classic Who continues...
***
This post: treats from the eras of the 1st,
2nd, 3rd and 8th , Doctors.
A
note on order. Target Originals are not read in
order of publication (which was all over the place), but in order of each
Doctor, and each Doctor is read in order of their stories broadcast on TV. However, I jump about in terms of which
Doctor I read at any given time. The
Virgin New Adventures for Sylvester will be read in order; as will the BBC 8th
Doctor series (as though they had been on TV, see? I’m trying to get an arc flavour). The BBC Past Doctors series and the Virgin
Missing Adventures are simply read in terms of which one I fancy next, as they
are stand alone adventures slotting in-between the TV ones.
Oh,
and in case you forgot, I’ve taken to recording which books I read that are
actual paper copies, and which are Kindle or other electronic. I’m being social historical for my own
benefit. I want to see how long it is before I just plug books straight into my
brain, how many years before I’m a reading cyborg.
As always with these rambly
reviews: OFTEN LARGE SPOILERS ON ALL BOOKS IMMINENT!!!!
1. Doctor Who: Fury from the
Deep, by Victor Pemberton
(Target Original)
(2nd Doctor. This is a tough
one to review. As one of the semi
missing episode stories, its acquired even more of a cult following than it
might otherwise have had; with the iconic moments surviving colouring people’s
view of how great it must have been as a story: the scary dark teeth and open
mouth of Oak and Quill, the screaming! I
did enjoy this: a good, solid story, beautifully of its time in its writing and
execution – that is to say, wonderfully mixing up great moments of melodrama
with great moments of complete low key understatedness. Victoria’s exit, for example. The build up was nicely done, her unease, her
increasing quiet stress, her wish to just keep
still and stop moving, specially to scary places all the time. The way Jamie wanted to say more to her but
didn’t. This was all beautifully done,
so quietly and without any extra unneedful angst. It was clear from what was there, needed no
further explanation.
It is odd, reading back these comments as I write – I find myself often noting
how wonderful it is that the earlier Who books – and it goes for my Bond
reading marathon too, similar time period – are not over emotional. I am a somewhat depressive creature myself,
quick to over emote, especially in a sad way, quick to over empathise, or take
offence or generally overdo it. I think
it’s for this reason that I appreciate not being soaked in emotions as much of
modern TV does. At the same time – I
would never have us return to an era where we, any of us, couldn’t speak or
examine our feelings, or discuss or confide, at length if necessary. I just feel, in modern TV mostly, less so in
film and less so in books – that a sort of glorification of the more extreme
emotions of allsorts goes on, and makes any of us who feel or crave to more
regularly feel, the quieter less see-saw emotions, to be somehow lacking. I sink easily; I need not to be belaboured! That is why the emotions in these books –
clear as bell though they are, but not enumerated slavishly and adoringly over
and over, but quietly and matter of factly, affect me almost moreso than
today’s deluging. It’s possible to feel
very strongly, quietly. No less noble,
or more real than a shriek from elsewhere.
Both modes count. Anyway…I keep
saying this sort of thing, so thought I’d better see what I was repeating,
before moving on. There we are.
This is of course, one of the classic base under siege stories, where they are of course accused of sabotage the minute
they appear. I loved the visuals in this
story, not just the strange accounts of the frothing of the weed creature, but
moments like Jamie being trapped on the table and pulled back into the corridor
by the Doctor.
I liked the pacing, the way they lose touch with the rigs one by one, so that
the danger gets ever more claustrophobic, not immediately at critical
pitch. I liked the way it was set close
to our time but not quite clear when – there were recognisable helicopters
described; there were North Sea pipelines…it seemed like it could have nearly
been the 60s.
What I did find odd, was the description of the weed creature – it didn’t
strike me as furious at all. Intransigent,
ubiquitous, rambunctious, maybe. But I
guess those words make for a ridiculous and uncatchy title?! The creature was interesting, a sort of
symbiotic parasite, a gestalt creature, similar to Quatermass 2. Its drive to
life was its most obvious characteristic.
It wasn’t so much defensive, as expansive
– but without menace or character: it just WAS.
The odd thing here is, I found it less believable as a parasite, than
say, the Krynoids, later. Not sure why.
The one thing I wanted to say that will annoy people, was that I wish Malcolm
Hulke could’ve written this – it would have changed the story’s slant a little,
added a bit – there would have been a sub-commentary about exposing corporate
hypocrisy [via fiery redheaded female characters simply made for this purpose
in Pemberton’s writing!]. It doesn’t
really need this political or ecological angle, I just felt it would have added
to an already good story. But anyway: a classic, and I can see why. I felt very
sorry for Van Lutyens and Mrs Harris – I was relieved that they returned to
their normal selves at the end. This
was a kindly touch, by Victor
Pemberton. ACTUAL BOOK.)
2. Doctor Who and The Zarbi
[‘The Web Planet’, when on TV], by Bill
Strutton (Target Original)
(1st Doctor. This was one of
those genuinely fearsome books that almost derailed my entire marathon! I had such trouble finishing it. It was…just my own personal opinion, but as a
read for me [and as a watch], this is – just awful. No pace, bad acting from almost everyone,
finding it impossible to care about the fate of anyone much at all.
I really wanted to like this better
as a book than as a serial, but it was almost worse. I was hoping that all that failed in the
ambitious ideas of the serial, would be corrected and elaborated on in the
book, but it felt just the same. Very
contrived, very stilted, very of its time in its morals and dilemmas, and very
unstimulating altogether. Which is
annoying, as so many alien creatures all in one story, with their politics and
layers of intrigue could have been so good.
The antlike Zarbi, controlled unseen by the Animus; the Menoptera, woolly
bee like moths [who annoyed me more than any of the other creatures, no sure
why – maybe it was just a hangover of being unable to forget the TV realisation
of them with their strangely ineffectually waving arms and sibilant dialogue…I
couldn’t seem to see them differently in my mind]. And the Optera, the little underground grubs
that were stereotypes of Mexican bandits in speech, that seemed something of an
afterthought, and more to give Barbara something to do.
The usual plot device of separating everyone just felt hugely obvious here; and
the very uneven and episodic nature of the story just didn’t work as well as it
did in something like Keys of Marinus,
where very separate stories sat next to each other but seemed happy to do
so. The book felt opaque. I didn’t know where it was going [and on TV
this persisted till episode 4 or so], and I kept wandering off to read other
things, as I wasn’t really held at all.
Not even Ian and Barbara could save it for me, which is most unusual,
they being among my favourite companions!
I often have disagreements with friends about Hartnell’s acting and the
consistency [or not] of his portrayal of the Doctor. I like Hartnell’s portrayal and its
inconsistencies very much. But even he
annoys me in this story, what with his secretiveness about the ring and its use
as a power source, it seemed unnecessary and childish. Not to mention that he
and Vicki are mostly irrelevant here anyway, being mostly shut in a room, and
making the useful discovery that the Zarbi are afraid of spiders. Oh dear.
I just didn’t enjoy this. We’ll
leave it there! Except to say…this might
work well as an animation? It would
overcome any technical problems, and the oddness of the story would seem less
so I think, in a drawn world. ACTUAL
BOOK.)
3.
Doctor Who: The Wheel of Ice, by Stephen Baxter
(2nd
Doctor, with Jamie and Zoe. To begin with I was a bit irritated by the Scots
robot, who was not adhering enough to what my idea of a robot should be; but by
the end of the book I was quite won over by the character and was no longer
seeing him as a robot as such, and the reasons why are well explained.
This is a quite a showcase adventure for Jamie, who spends most of the novel
separated from the others, and helping a renegade band of teens escape from
servitude and from a rebel colony, while the Doctor and Zoe try to unravel the
motivations of a mysterious lifeform called The Blue Dolls.
This is a typical base under siege scenario for Troughton, and fits in well
with that part of his era. It took me a
while to get into, but once I did, it was very well characterised, both the
main 3, and the subsidiaries; though this novel was mostly about Jamie and Zoe
– and not in the annoying way of New Who, where the Doctor semi gets lost,
simply that they get a good amount of ‘screen time’, and their characters are
more well rounded by the end – Zoe has a very sweet scene where she is talking
to a small child and has to calm her from fear and stop being so logical, it’s
a telling scene; and Jamie manages to rise to his role as sudden protector for
a bunch of teens not that much younger than himself in a very satisfying
way. The Doctor shows his kindness and
wisdom here, always curious, always trying for peace. Enjoyable.
ON KINDLE.)
4. Doctor Who: The Scarlet
Empress, by Paul Magrs (BBC 8th
Doctor series)
(Took me
ages reading this to realise I was reading a proper 18th century
style picaresque novel, in the style of Voltaire’s Candide, for example. It was
all about the journey, the travelling – think Lawrence Sterne, the rambling,
the sudden intense detail, whether any of it proves relevant or whether it’s
just there for its own account, because it was fun to write and the author
hopes you’ll agree when reading. This
was a long and very rambly fairy tale with no particular moral. A huge cast of unlikely characters – old lady
empresses in jars; a bearded lady with an army of bears; alligator men slowly
changing back to their original form; glass spiders merging with other
creatures.
And of course, the advent of Iris Wildthyme, the female Timelord, who goes
around the universe having almost exactly the same adventures as the Doctor,
only slightly different [at one point she describes the entire 5 Doctors
Anniversary Story, but with notable small changes] – it’s as if she’s the
Doctor in another dimension, next door.
It’s impossible to tell if her stories are true, though it seems like
they aren’t, though why she would make them up when she must have her own
adventures is a strange matter too. As
is the Doctor not being too cross with her about it. Her TARDIS is a red 22 bus, with a Putney
destination. It too seems stuck in its
current form.
Once I flowed with this story and stopped waiting for the point [which did not
arrive], all was baroque, slightly surreal and quite dandy. I started to really look forward to whatever
odd thing would nonsensically happen next before I went to sleep at night. Just had to put my expectations of a coherent
beginning, middle and end to one side.
That done: very enjoyable book.
Lastly: could see the author had massive fun writing this, very playful
indeed. Will keep an eye on his
offerings. ACTUAL BOOK.)
5. Doctor Who: The Janus
Conjunction, by Trevor Baxendale (BBC
8th Doctor series)
(Very good indeed. Now here was what you
want when you are after a coherent beginning, middle and end! This story had echoes of Apocalypse Now, with Zemler hiding in the shadows being a quietly
mad, insane military recluse. The story
also had quite lovely visual echoes of Ambassadors
of Death with fully space-suited astronaut men, who dared not take off
their helmets or their peeling radioactive skin will just dissolve and they
will die. Overall, this was a very
visual story, I could picture everything described very clearly, and
emotionally. I felt attached to all the
characters. Zemler’s men in particular,
knowing they will die soon, and slowly melting, basically [their cells not
holding together anymore] – leaving wet footprints of skin, eyes gradually
exposed to the bone, skin sliding down faces: this was quietly quite a
horrifying picture, described matter of factly.
The amount of pain associated with such a death…I spent a lot of time
making faces at the book. And yet, for
all this, it wasn’t depressing, it was riveting. Lunder, Julya, the other Menden characters,
determined to defend their planet – the whole story felt very human and made
much sense.
There is however, a very interesting thing that happens in this story. We can blame subsequent events in new Who on
this story here, I think. Sam
actually dies. Remember how some
points are sposed to be immutable, and people dying are usually one of
them? The Doctor sternly says ‘no we
can’t go back and save so and so that’s not how it works’? Remember?
Well, in this story, he merely remarks that’s “it’s frowned upon” and
promptly goes back in time to save Sam before her horrific and very sad death
of peeling skin radiation sickness. And
it’s all very quiet and that’s that.
Major continuity hurdle. I wonder
if it will have consequences in later 8th Doctor stories? It had better do, because though I was quite
pleased when he brought her back – I quite like how her character has grown and
developed, the whole point of the time travelling and the TARDIS as imagined
since the start has appeared to be that saving people from dying when they definitely already did, is not
done. Otherwise it’s a magic wand, and
you’d have no real stories to tell anymore.
It would be backwards and backwards forever, a queasy paranoid journey
to endlessly stop things from happening.
So this action has to have consequences, or…I’ll be frowning and
thinking this was major cheating. No
wonder no one can stay dead in new Who…Anyway, I enjoyed the story of the dark
eclipsed world of Janus, and its poor spider inhabitants. Well recommended. ACTUAL BOOK.)
6. Doctor Who: Salt of the
Earth, by Trudi Canavan (Time
Trips Short Story series)
(3rd
Doctor and Jo. Set in Australia in about
200 years from now. There’s ‘bad salt’
that does bad things to people and animals; a crashed spaceship that gets
nanobots into Jo, who is infected with the salt. She manages to avert disaster, stopping the
creation of anymore salt statues, by a sort of mental equivalent of ‘reverse
the polarity’ suggested by the Doctor.
It’s a good example of a story showing the Doctor and companion being
needful of each other, neither one totally to the fore, changing about, and
both necessary. I had doubts about this
to begin with, mostly because it started off by focalising a dog and I wanted a
person, but I became quite attached the dog and he had his part in the story
too…ON KINDLE.)
7. Doctor Who: Loneliness of
the Long Distance Time Traveller, by Joanne
Harris (Time Trips short story series)
(3rd
Doctor. A perfect little English
village. Too perfect and too much a
figment of a child’s fantasy. That’s
where Jon Pertwee finds himself when he’s trying to get back from Metabelis 3,
and as he is dying. This is what happens
on the way back. Characters out of Happy
Families, with people as functions: a milkman, a grocer, a policeman, a
baker. No one can leave, and everyone
must be HAPPY at all times, in an orderly way.
Safety and predictability are slowly killing the people trapped in the
village. If you rebel, the toys come and
get you, and they have teeth. This is a
strange and very sad little story, full of quotes from Goethe. About sadness, loss and the death of child,
slowly. I was quite snuffly by the end
of it. The child is given a greater
extension of life, momentarily, in the end, by joining briefly with the TARDIS
and being in effect told many stories of the Doctor’s adventures, all at once. Instead of being cheated of her small life;
it’s as if she borrowed many more lives, in her mind. This is odd, quick, very sad and
memorable. ON KINDLE.)
