This review is based on the CD release from AudioGo and may contain minor spoilers.

"So, seventh time lucky then. Hello, me! I’m sure you remember getting the previous six of these, so you know the drill- I’m in an awful bind, and I need your help to get out of it. In fact, I need all of me to help...me!"

As listeners move into the seventh instalment of AudioGo’s Destiny of the Doctor series, they’d be forgiven for having initial concerns that a predictable and less compelling experience may await them within. Indeed, when James Swallow’s Shockwave opens to a dystopian-esque intergalactic society on the brink of collapse, with the Seventh Doctor and Ace forced onto a rescue cruiser in an attempt to escape an oncoming apocalypse, it’s only natural that an inherent sense of déjà vu begins to kick in.

Nevertheless, once Shockwave moves past its premise and into deeper and darker territory, it becomes far more than the sum of its predecessors’ parts, evolving into a great standalone release in its own right. At times, it channels recent episodes of post-2005 Doctor Who such as The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit, The God Complex and even The Rings of Ahkaten, yet equally the approach here regarding faith and moral dilemmas around it feels fresh when placed in the context of the Seventh Doctor’s era. It’s arguable that just as last month’s Sixth Doctor tale Trouble In Paradise managed to break through the confines of the televised era on which it was based, so too does this month’s outing benefit from a lack of financial and perceptual constraints to great success.

It’s notable to recognise that much of this release’s success derives from the strength of its central narrator. Sophie Aldred’s Ace was a divisive companion to say the least in the final years of Doctor Who’s ‘classic’ era, yet here she gives a stunning performance both in character and in terms of relaying the action of the storyline. From her cavalier and apt rendition of Sylvester McCoy’s Doctor to her adaptive style of narration that suits the varying pace of the tale, Aldred boasts an incredible range of talents over the course of her contribution that won’t soon be forgotten by this particular listener. Ian Brooker provides fine support in the role of a courageous captain whose implications on the wider Destiny arc are still to be revealed, but it’s undeniable that this release’s returning cast member is its star.

In the past few months, the matter of the Eleventh Doctor’s various cameos in these Destiny tales has been a point of contention for this reviewer. Shadow of Death, Babblesphere and Trouble In Paradise all boasted effective uses of the pseudo multi-Doctor nature of their narrative structure, while lacklustre instalments such as Vengeance of the Stones showed that some writers on the roster found integrating the latest Time Lord more of a challenge. To its credit, Shockwave’s use of Matt’s incarnation is handled in an intriguing manner, posing more hints at what shape the November finale The Time Machine could hold for the incumbent eleventh incarnation than we’ve heard before. Sufficed to say that if Matt Fitton doesn’t manage to live up to expectations with the aforementioned final instalment in four months’ time, it will truly be a crying shame given the success of building such an ambitious arc.

However, despite a wealth of successes in terms of effective moral dilemmas and a strong narrator, Shockwave isn’t devoid of blemishes. This reviewer has their own qualms with Ace as a character moreso than Aldred as an actress, and at times Swallow’s script affords the final televised classic companion a few lines of dialogue which portray her in an extremely childish and foolish light unbefitting of her overall depiction here. Ace’s interaction with a young girl aboard the rescue cruiser perhaps echoes conversations witnessed in The Beast Below and Rings a little too heavily at times, and the listener may find himself or herself wondering whether Swallow utilised already established source material rather than his own imagination to inspire their discussions. A reluctance to innovative such as this is by no means a proverbial deal-breaker, but should be taken into account nevertheless so as to at least provide a critique on what this release as a whole could have improved.

If a single word can be used to assert the overall effect of Shockwave on veteran followers of the Destiny arc, it would likely be ‘reinvigorating’. While as an audio drama and a new instalment of classic Doctor Who it has its imperfections, this is yet another sterling release in an impressively consistent season which has yet to provide us with any truly dismal or lacklustre experiences. Whereas Trouble In Paradise perhaps felt somewhat too familiar, lulling the listener into a worrying sense of fore-knowledge barely halfway through the run, Shockwave takes the listener’s expectations and throws them out of a metaphorical window, innovating upon what we know while raising some superb moral dilemmas along the way with a strong level of ambiguity to boot. More than anything, Shockwave does seem to reinvigorate the Destiny franchise as a whole, leaving this particular listener ecstatic to hear what the final four monthly instalments have to offer.

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK edition of the ebook. 

This is undoubtedly a bit of a scoop for the world of Doctor Who publishing; it’s not every day that the Children’s Laureate pens a story featuring the seventh Doctor and the Daleks. Even in this anniversary year, replete with Proms and Celebrations and previously unknown incarnations of our favourite Time Lord, it’s good to know that Who can still break new ground in its literary guise. A perfect companion to the BFI’s July screening of Remembrance of the Daleks, this novella (also featuring Ace, and referring to her prior adventures with that baseball bat) might almost be dubbed ‘Amnesia of the Daleks’. Because something terrifying and vastly alarming has happened: nobody other than the Doctor and Ace seems able to recall that the Daleks are a force for evil. In this alien universe, the Daleks are instead skillful geneticists (“I bet they are!” mutters the Doctor darkly at one point), surgeons and philosophers dedicated to keeping the peace. The concept of Daleks as academics is highly intriguing, and as might be expected from a writer as skilled as Malorie Blackman, this is impressive stuff.

Of course, given the brief word count there’s little scope for an intricate series of twists and reveals, and the basic mechanics of this storyline are fairly guessable. But the chief pleasures of The Ripple Effect aren’t really ones of plotting. Instead, the thrill here is that this short story comes about as close to being one kind of ‘anti-Doctor Who’ as is possible without causing brand management to implode. Challenging the central tenets and structures of Who, this is akin to a moment from Genesis of the Daleks expanded to novella length, or an instant from Dalek vigorously elaborated upon. In The Ripple Effect, Blackman sets up a startling moral question and pursues it to the very brink: what if the Daleks really were good, and the Doctor was prejudiced against them, unable to let go of a counterfactual past that he remembers all too well?

Readers are warned that this isn’t going to be a conventional tale when we begin with exaggerated stasis. The TARDIS is trapped, for once, and could remain so for the rest of time. The Doctor’s usual ingenuity doesn’t appear to be working, leaving Ace worried that she might be forced to live out her days inside the time machine. It’s the kind of opening you could imagine a script editor querying, but Blackman is free to engineer her own scenario here. Indeed, she has expertly explored prejudice before in a science-fictional setting, particularly in the award-winning Noughts & Crosses book series. By pushing artfully at the boundaries of what makes Doctor Who, well, Doctor Who, the Children's Laureate is reiterating and extending some of her characteristic concerns. And if ever there was a Doctor who we might doubt, I guess it’s Time’s Champion, the Machiavellian and manipulative seventh incarnation.

In line with stories like Power of the Daleks and Victory of the Daleks, readers might expect that The Ripple Effect’s well-behaved 'monsters' will eventually prove to be scheming their way to galactic domination. We sympathise with the Doctor at first because he’s still behaving as if he’s inside a conventional Doctor Who story, and his reactions make sense in that template. But then doubts begin to magnify: what if this story isn’t patterned after Power or Victory after all? What if, this time, the Doctor really is trapped in old-fashioned and obsolete beliefs, left following the wrong script?

The Ripple Effect offers a viewpoint figure in order to dramatise its challenge to the Doctor’s moral superiority and good sense, and this is Tulana from the planet Markhan. A student of the Daleks, Tulana is appalled by the Doctor’s refusal to accept her universe as it is, and tells him so. Occasionally this means that Blackman’s moral lessons are voiced very directly rather than left to echo uncannily and uneasily through the world she’s created. And when matters eventually come to a head then they do so very rapidly, something that left me wishing for much more of this universe and its Dalek gentlemen-scholars.

Malorie Blackman's contribution more than maintains the high standard set by recent Puffin stories from the likes of Philip Reeve and Richelle Mead. And although you get the feeling that, ultimately, the author isn’t able to push things quite as far as she’d like to, The Ripple Effect thoroughly deserves to resonate out through the larger Doctor Who mythos. I’d be amazed if it doesn’t end up being a high water mark for this particular series. Well suited to the novella format, this is an entertaining parable that enables the Doctor and the Daleks to pose serious questions of (unearthly) prejudice. Essential reading!

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK edition of the ebook. 

Puffin's series of short stories continues with something of a triumph for the sixth Doctor’s era. In Something Borrowed, US author Richelle Mead adopts the first person perspective of Ms Peri Brown, as well as having fun with the gaudiness of mid-80s Doctor Who (but not fun at its expense). Here, the Doctor and Peri visit the Koturians, a race who have been so inspired by their experience of Earth’s Las Vegas that they've modelled themselves on its culture. In place of the Strip there’s a “Swathe”, and even an Elvis impersonator turns up at one vital moment. But for all its energetic knowingness, Something Borrowed also refines its Who source material by setting out a coherent, well thought through storyline (not something that could always be said of the sixth Doctor’s TV outings, in my view).

Mead’s decision to use Peri as her viewpoint character means that the Doctor occasionally bursts in on proceedings and has to info-dump what he’s been up to, but on the whole it’s a gambit which further lends coherence and credibility to the tale. Peri’s American vantage point is (perhaps understandably) well realized, but there are also lovely little character moments such as her anxiety about being stared at by a crowd of wedding guests when she and the Doctor are about to intervene in one particular ceremony. Given the story’s title – and its Vegas-esque setting – it probably comes as little surprise to find that there’s a wedding at the heart of matters. But this isn’t Doctor Who-as-romance: nuptial themes are precisely and sharply integrated with a daring scheme that could transform the Doctor’s world (and even Doctor Who) as we know it.

The Doctor and Peri face a familiar nemesis, and though the identity of this villain is eminently guessable it is still a pleasure to encounter them, and in a well-written guise at that. The Doctor’s acerbic reworking of “something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue” may be rather mean, but it’s also very funny, and in keeping with this era’s focus on badinage. At one point the Doctor overcomes some henchman-type creatures (hench-creatures?), and you half expect him to toss out a Sawardian one-liner. But no, rather than caustically quipping, he pauses to express his regret (and I’d love to know if that moment emerged through an editorial note: it really does feel like a knowledgeable fan taking the time to ‘correct’ tonal worries rooted in long-term readings of the sixth Doctor).

The villain of the piece wants a Koturian groom as part of their capricious machinations to ‘borrow’ (OK, steal) something that’s lacking in “most” Time Lord’s capabilities (and the story fudges this by inserting “most” and “definitively” in its eventual explanation, thereby glossing over the debacle of a certain fourth Doctor Dalek story). But what’s most impressive is that while acknowledging details of fan knowledge here and there, the storyline still rockets along and everything dovetails neatly together in a logically and emotionally satisfying way. There are bits of dialogue you can almost hear Colin Baker’s voice saying, they fit so well into his Doctor’s character. And both Peri and the returning baddie are also well served. In light of what would happen later in the run of television stories, a casual threat about the possibility of the Doctor regenerating “sooner” than he might think also resonates rather smartly for the reader.

In terms of character, setting, alien culture, and its villain’s grandiose scheme, Something Borrowed hits all the right notes. Richelle Mead has lovingly borrowed a sometimes unloved period in Doctor Who’s rich tapestry, and not only restored its sense and sensibilities, but also stitched it back together in a new and somewhat improved pattern. Rarely has Peri been this three-dimensional a character. And although the TV programme had begun to recurrently plunder Time Lord lore by the mid-80s, it rarely did so in a particularly coherent manner (something brought home to me when rewatching The Two Doctors at the BFI recently). On this occasion, however, Mead’s handiwork makes judicious use of Time Lord capacities to power the overall storyline. “Impressive” really is the most apposite epithet for this month’s Puffin ebook.

This review is based on the CD release from AudioGo and may contain minor spoilers.

"I really need an Omni-Paradox. I need you to store its awesome energy within the TARDIS so I can use it later for a very important thing I’m doing. The existence of the universe is at stake..."

Whereas the first five instalments of the Destiny of the Doctor range have had a lot of common, albeit each boasting their own definitive tone based on the era they represent, from this point onwards it seems as if each of the final six releases will be far more distinct from one another. In the case of Trouble In Paradise, it’s time for Colin Baker’s Sixth Doctor to go under the radar, and it seems fair to say that this release will differ greatly from the McCoy, McGann, Eccleston, Tennant and Smith adventures still to come.

The premise here is simple enough- the Eleventh Doctor calls upon his former self to hunt down an Omni-Paradox, tracking such an element to a 15th Century sailing vessel containing none other than renowned explorer Christopher Columbus. This set-up allows us an intriguing interaction between the Doctor and a man he believes to be one of his greatest inspirations. Of course, as the old saying goes, you should never meet your childhood heroes- and just as Shakespeare and Van Gogh appeared to vastly contradict the Time Lord’s preconceptions, so too does Columbus bear a startling darkness in his heart.

Typically enough for an audio outing which is so intently focused on replicating the tone of its chosen era of Doctor Who, Nev Fountain elects to have the Doctor travel with his most faithful companion of this particular incarnation- Perpugilliam Brown. Nicola Bryant is our narrator of proceedings, then, seeming to inhabit her 1980s role again with breathtaking ease, while additionally managing to provide a fair reproduction of Baker’s protagonist. Nicola is joined by Cameron Stewart, who lends Columbus that aforementioned darkness and moral ambiguity, as we listeners discover that this ‘great’ explorer may not have been the hero that most would have expected.

The narrative of the adventure is helped in no small measure by being prompted by an appearance from the latest version of the Time Lord. In past instalments of the Destiny range, the 50th Anniversary links featuring the Eleventh Doctor worked to the stories’ detriment due to feeling somewhat misplaced, yet by having the Eleventh incarnation be the trigger of events to come, it lends his cameo a greater presence and dramatic impact. Once we’re down to business, though, this tale of ‘El Diablo’ (a supposed physical manifestation of the Devil) is a fairly well-worn adventure that fans will recognise as bearing strong similarities to previous televised and audio stories alike. Nostalgia isn’t necessarily always detrimental, yet it can have a profound negative impact if allowed to dominate a story’s structure and characterisations.

Did Fountain perhaps rest on his laurels somewhat, then? That could certainly be one interpretation of Trouble, a morally ambitious Sixth Doctor audio adventure that seems too intent on paying homage to the past. The problem, though, is that the drama’s writer was quite probably asked to adhere to certain tonal and narrative boundaries in order to properly fit the Colin Baker years without ever stepping too far away from the status quo. During isolated moments, the story does venture into interesting uncharted territory, but too often are these ventures painfully brief and regularly jarring with the ‘classic’ tone of the remainder of this release. This shortcoming doesn’t completely rob the audio drama of its dramatic impact, yet for long-time fans either of the classic era of the show and/or even simply since Doctor Who returned in 2005 (this reviewer falls in the latter category), this sense of déjà vu is something of a sore point. For many, it seems that an overdependence on nostalgia was what killed the programme at the climax of the ‘80s, so with Steven Moffat thankfully focused on ensuring that the 50th Anniversary Special introduces as many new elements as it does reference the past, it seems strange that AudioGo has kept its range so nostalgia-orientated.

Let’s not dwell too heavily on the negative aspects of Trouble In Paradise, however. Indeed, much like the Colin Baker era as a whole, to lament its flaws too heavily is to miss much of this audio release’s charm and wit. Nicola Bryant has slipped effortlessly back into the role of Peri and does wonders with the narration, the direction of the piece is accomplished and Nev Fountain’s script is accessible and empathetic despite its lack of innovation. If this latest entry in the Destiny range does herald a series of distinct concluding instalments, then, we can at least rest assured that AudioGo will maintain their focus on adhering to the tones of each era of the show, for better or for worse. Doctor Who’s past can often be just as much of a hindrance as a blessing, but in this case, it should be of great benefit as the last fifty years of the programme will define one of the most ambitious and innovative audio ranges that fans have yet had the opportunity to experience.

With the 50th anniversary year of Doctor Who in full swing fans are being treated to a near unprecedented level of merchandising. Virtually every week there's a new gizmo, piece of apparel or toy for the deep of pockets to pick up. More than most, those who appreciate a good tome to while away the hours with are being spoiled with an avalanche of books to read about every possible bit of the Doctor's fictional universe and the people in the real world who bring him to life.

Joining my heaving bookshelves is the companions book by Andy Frankham-Allen, a book which promises to "look at the story of 35 of the Doctor's friends who have changed him into the man he is today". The book gives a basic overview of the Doctor's companions on television and their later adventures in the expanded universe of audios and books.

The book is written in a clear, consice fashion and gives a good overview of all the television companions. However, an issue that all books of this ilk face is who is this book aimed at? For long-term fans this book will not be offering many insights into the psyche of companions, or interesting discussions of continuity. For new fans one wonders about the appeal of reading a book of descriptions of things that companions did and felt in an episode when you could spend the £9.99 the book costs on a few DVDs and get a lot more value for your money. Gone are the days where the only way you could learn about companions of days past was by reading a book like David J. Howe & Mark Stammer's Companions of the 1980's - stories from every era are now widely and cheaply available, reducing the need for a book that fills in knowledge gaps.

The book sometimes comes across like it's been copy-pasted from Wikipedia in its character summaries, and it reads in an excessively dry manner. Also, the expanded universe companions are quite poorly served by the book - characters like Evelyn Smythe and Erimem for example are some of the most interesting and unusual companions to have been created, but they are barely mentioned, getting just about a page each. This is a major oversight in a book like this; a lot of novels from the wilderness years are now long out of print and filling in information about companions which newcomers to the series would have never heard of and would be unable to learn about by simply watching television would have elevated this book above the ordinary.

In a marketplace which has books like the majestic About Time series - surely the gold standard for fan books in any genre - The Companions book is a very poor relation.

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK edition of the ebook.

There can be no doubting Patrick Ness’s credentials as a writer of YA fantasy, and this Puffin series continues to add ‘big name’ authorial value to its month-by-month releases. Reaching the fifth Doctor’s tenure, Tip of the Tongue features Nyssa as the Doctor's sole companion, also including some smart continuity references to Adric and Tegan near its conclusion.

Ness excels at creating fantasy worlds. Here it’s America in 1945, but very much with an alien twist. Strange creatures dubbed 'Truth Tellers' (which attach themselves to their recipient’s tongue) have invaded Temperance, Maine, meaning that locals can indulge themselves in expressing plenty of plain, unvarnished reality. Of course, Ness can’t resist having some fun with this concept, working in a version of a “does my bum look big in this?” gag, but he also strikes a more serious note by illustrating just how much society hinges on degrees of tact, if not innumerable white lies. Constant truth-telling offers a ready way for veracious intruders to disrupt human existence, it would seem.

Appropriately enough, Ness withholds the full truth of his own tale, and as a result there’s a satisfying twist towards the end of proceedings. He relies on his readers’ sense of what constitutes a Doctor Who story (e.g. extraterrestrial threat) to misdirect and mislead, and the “Dipthodat” race are ultimately not quite what you might have expected… If economy with the truth gives rise to a clever denouement, there is nevertheless a danger that this doesn’t always feel exactly like Doctor Who. It’s more of a scenario which the Doctor happens to breeze through, with our celery-sporting hero reduced almost to a guest-star role. Ness is far more interested in his own original characters and their relationships, focusing on the friendship between young Jonny and Nettie rather than centring events on the Doctor and Nyssa (even if the latter’s trousers cause a bit of a stir in 1945 Maine).

Last month’s Roots of Evil simultaneously captured the flavour of fourth Doctor-Leela adventures and conveyed Philip Reeve’s authorial voice, whereas this time round we get more of a character study, and a carefully thought-out, localised transformation of history, but not something which necessarily fits snugly into the Davison era. Instead, Tip of the Tongue skillfully combines its truth-telling theme with a coming-of-age tale, where the reality of the human heart becomes something subtle and malleable – something not fully in the grasp of its teller – rather than a mere matter of reportage. Ness makes us care about Jonny and Nettie, and with more than a hint of “new Who” permeating the turn of events, emotional realism becomes just as important here as the matter of an alien incursion.

Ultimately, Tip of the Tongue contradicts its title; unlike a word that’s almost remembered, yet can’t quite be recalled, this material is always under its author’s control, and it’s a beautifully crafted piece of fiction - a good story first and foremost, and a Doctor Who story second, as if viewed from the perspective of somebody who would usually be a bit-part character. And where child actors can sometimes pose a problem for televised Who, no such difficulties plague the written word. Young characters come into their own in this deft integration of YA fiction and the Whoniverse.

To be sure, Patrick Ness hasn’t written a novella which simply apes family entertainment TV, nor one which offers unbridled SF spectacle in literary form. And, unusually, fan service is almost an alien concept here (bar a few moments of continuity referencing, and the fifth Doctor’s attitude towards travelling companions). But perhaps the most compelling form of “fan service” lies in creating a thematically coherent, intelligent and consistent story-world that never feels programmatic. Tip of the Tongue isn’t a “game changer”. It doesn’t promise any big secrets or any devastating reveals. Yet, perhaps unwittingly echoing Peter Davison’s portrayal of the Doctor, this month’s Puffin ebook combines quiet integrity with true warmth and charm.