Paris, 1979.

For many Doctor Who fans there is only one thing that sentence can possibly mean. For that place and that time are (mostly) the setting for a story from Tom Baker’s penultimate season – and it happens to be a story which is often considered to be one of the all-time greats in the history of the show. Fast-forward (or fast return, it all depends on your point of view) to 2015 and an all-new novelisation of the serial has arrived on bookshelves under the authorship of James Goss. But to see exactly how this came about, we need to step back a little.

2012 saw the release of a novelisation of another Season 17 story, Shada. But there was one big difference: Shada was never finished and thus never transmitted. So that novel, written by Gareth Roberts, actually provides one of our only means of experiencing the story as a complete entity. It was considered a great success, and paved the way for a further book adaptation of another Douglas Adams script which, likewise, had never been novelised.

Enter City of Death.

While these books share a common heritage, then, this latest one has an issue all of its own to contend with. Unlike Shada, City of Death exists in its entirety as a TV serial produced three-and-a-half decades ago. Which raises the question: how far does the book stray from the established path that so many people know and love? Well, the finished novel achieves a brilliant balance.

Perhaps the most important thing to be aware of is that although a considerable amount of the dialogue is recognisable from the story as we know it, Goss has used the original rehearsal scripts as the basis for his novel. This means that while the story is fundamentally unchanged, much of the dialogue and action is either new (deleted from the finished TV show) or different to some extent from how it turned out on screen. The result is quite fascinating. In addition, of course, Goss has embellished and added even further to the story, and this is in evidence almost immediately. To cite an early example, the Doctor and Romana’s first visit to the Louvre is entirely familiar and yet radically different.

The book’s first chapter contains some of its most notable deviations from the televised original (and in this sense you could argue that the first chapter is the book’s most atypical), but this turns out to be a masterstroke. Before we see the Doctor and Romana in Paris (and no, this is no longer their first appearance in the novel) the book does what only a book can: it elaborates substantially on the backstory of almost any character you could care to mention, not just through dialogue but also by transporting the reader into the minds of the characters themselves. For readers familiar with the original material, this makes for a hugely eye-opening introduction to this new interpretation of the story. It has to be said that for those who aren’t as overly acquainted with City of Death, the first chapter could perhaps be a little less effective – not quite so much of a ‘hook’ into the novel, but taking on much more meaning by the time of its conclusion.

As the book progresses and catches up with the narrative of the original TV episodes, that’s where the benefits of the written medium become very clear. Goss’ writing is rich, witty and compelling, not only a superb homage to the late Douglas Adams (indeed, a number of phrases in the book originate from stage directions in the scripts themselves, but except for the examples given in the notes at the back of the book you probably wouldn’t be able to tell the Adams from the Goss – the language is incredibly consistent and harmonious throughout) but also a match made in heaven with the story itself. If there’s any TV serial which particularly suits being made into a novel, it must be this one; one of the most evocative Doctor Who stories becomes one of the most evocative Doctor Who books. It isn’t entirely hyperbolic to say that for a short while, when the pages of this book are open, it’s not too difficult to imagine that you might be in Paris (especially if you have the fortune to actually be in Paris).

Also available is an unabridged audiobook release of City of Death. Read by Lalla Ward (Romana) and running to around nine hours and forty-five minutes, the audiobook is an enjoyable way to experience the story and has a character all of its own. Ward’s reading is sharp, clear and well-performed, and the release also takes the opportunity to spruce up the soundscape via the careful use of sound effects. This definitely improves the overall listening experience while remaining restrained and respectful to the underlying material. But because the audiobook obviously runs at a pre-determined pace, there are a few moments which seem to pass by slightly too quickly – not major plot elements, but some of the subtleties of the writing which don’t have the chance to sink in as well, compared to reading the book at your own pace. Ultimately this comes down to personal preference, but having experienced both the hardback and the audiobook, the former did seem more satisfying overall, even though the audio release is still great fun in its own right.

For more than three decades, City of Death has been (no pun intended) a closed book. Four episodes of a television show which has been on our screens – on and off – for over fifty years. But serendipitously, the fact that the story is among those never to have been originally novelised has opened the door for this tremendous new book; at once a fresh reworking and a faithful retelling of a classic adventure. If there’s one reason to buy it, it’s that once you’ve read the book the story will never be the same again. Frankly, after finishing the book it feels like the TV episodes have lots of bits missing. Bits which, just for a moment, you would be forgiven for thinking you’d actually seen performed by the actors in 1979. Events in the original (some of which don’t really make a great deal of sense, with hindsight) are justified and explored, often without even being changed to any significant extent. City of Death is now an even richer and more satisfying story than ever before, and it’s a sheer delight that Season 16’s The Pirate Planet is set to receive the book treatment (once again from Goss) next year. Who says you can’t improve on perfection?
 

Considering Verity Lambert's legendary status in broadcasting history, it's surprising that it's taken this long for a book about her to emerge. An iconic figure in Television - forever known as the smart, beautiful, stylish young woman who cut a swathe through the stuffy cloisters of the BBC as a neophyte producer with a little show called Doctor Who.

Verity's pioneering work on Doctor Who's formative years needs very little introduction. It's already well-documented elsewhere, and was only the beginning of a long and illustrious career. We've seen a glimpse of this part of her story in An Adventure in Space and Time, but right from the off, Richard Marson's excellent biography is keen to point out that the 'soft' Verity as portrayed by Jessica Raine in Mark Gatiss's drama was far from the whole picture. Indeed, friends and colleagues don't remember her for the doe eyes and Roedean vowels familiar to Who fans from archive footage - her 'public' face. They recall a passionate, expansive, driven woman - just as prone to epic dinner parties as she was to thunderous meltdowns. She liked a drink, she smoked heavily, and loved men. She lived well, and lived life to the full. 

 

Marson paints a compelling picture of Verity's life and career, shaped as much by friendships and lovers as by career decisions. Her passionate, but doomed relationship with brilliant director Ted Kotcheff leads her indirectly to work with her mentor, Sydney Newman at ATV, before he sends for her at the BBC to help deliver the problem child of a children's drama he's been helping develop. She puts up with the bitchy whispers about how she got the job, and kicks back against the pipe-smoking boy's club at the workplace to forge a strong reputation. Marson addresses the rumours about Sydney and Verity, and her friends and colleagues chip in with their thoughts - but the jury remains out whether the whispers were right.

 

After Who, Verity's fortunes vary at first, and Newman makes her unhappily take up production reins on a new soap opera before allowing her to work on her preferred project - Adam Adamant Lives!, which turns out to be a fairly fraught experience for all concerned. Nonetheless, Verity sees out the rest of the decade continuing to move forward in adult drama in the party atmosphere of the glass-chinking late-sixties beeb. It's only in 1970 that the party briefly skids to a halt, as Verity's contract at the BBC abruptly ends after an overspend on the prestigious W.Somerset Maugham series.

 

Verity quickly regroups, and moves on to Thames TV and Euston Films, where her career flourishes - but inamongst successes like Budgie or Minder there are bitter feuds over Rumpole of the Bailey and a long, messy court case over Rock Follies. She raises eyebrows with her marriage to the much younger Colin Bucksey - now an acclaimed director of US shows such as Breaking Bad and Fargo. 

Her later years in charge of Cinema Verity and return to the BBC in the 90s have a slightly thinner hit rate as TV production becomes more diffuse, but not even the debacle of Eldorado could slow Verity down. Cancer first diagnosed and treated in the early 70s returns with a vengeance in her final years, but Verity worked to the end with dignity and courage. In spite of all the personal drama and tensions at the coalface of TV production, there's plenty of fun stories and you get the impression that Verity inspired as well as innovated. She wasn't just respected, but loved. Marson's book is a class act, it doesn't stint on the sometimes scathing nature of its subject - but it presents a balanced portrait of a brilliant, trailblazing figure in broadcasting, the like of which we may never see again. Drama and delight indeed.

 

 

Cleverly billed as an unofficial annual for an unofficial Doctor, this fan-produced publication inspired by the two 1960s Dalek movies starring Peter Cushing has been designed to go with the flow of the authorised World Distributors offerings, which were like manna from heaven to followers of the show in those far-off fiction-starved days.

And it's a publication to treasure indeed - one that sits perfectly between the second and third official volumes. Its bumper 172 pages are packed with stories, features and strips lovingly created by a plethora of inspired, talented writers and artists - familiar names as well as new ones - all with a shining passion for the subject matter. And they've all risen magnificently to the challenge of taking Dr. Who, Susan, Barbara, Ian, Louise and Tom off on different adventures with, as the cover says, "splendid tales of the unknown based on the fabulous films". One can truly imagine Cushing et al uttering the words and thinking the thoughts given to them, while the illustrations - in their widely varying styles - cleverly capture the essence of the artwork in the official annuals.

As such, the fannual not only echoes the wonderful innocence of its '60s counterparts, it is also afforded the luxury of hindsight that allows some fun to be had without ruining continuity. And the contributors' broad-ranging knowledge does allow for some delightful in-jokes - the "Omnirumour" makes an appearance in one place, while lyrics from Not So Old, as sung by Roberta Tovey on the B-side of her 1965 cash-in single Who's Who, are neatly woven in elsewhere!

It'll come as no surprise that the Daleks feature quite often in the fannual, either directly in a story or referenced elsewhere, but it did come as a nice surprise to see another classic monster (I won't say which) make an appearance too.

Being a fan production, with so many other demands on the contributors' and publishers' lives, it's taken a while to see the light of day, the idea having been initially sparked back in October 2012. Co-publisher Scott Burditt told Doctor Who News that what also contributed to the somewhat lengthy gestation was the fact that he didn't want to go down the PDF-delivery road, preferring instead to provide a physical copy for people to leaf through, which also meant they weren't tied to a computer (or similar) if they wanted to read it. "Paper doesn't need a battery," as he succinctly put it!

That then meant investigating the best way of getting it printed, which again took time. In the end, print-on-demand self-publishing was deemed the most suitable production method in order to be able to offer all the desired variants, although he admits that that isn't without its drawbacks when it comes to pricing.

With so much to offer (just take a look at the contents page reproduced here), it almost seems churlish to single anyone out for praise. Different readers will, after all, prefer different prose styles and genres, and this publication seems to have it all - sci-fi, action-adventure, history, comedy, tragedy, philosophy, and romance - but it all starts very cleverly with It All Begins Tomorrow, by Mark Hevingham. I also particularly enjoyed The Trial of Dr. Who, by co-publisher Shaqui Le Vesconte, which sees the scientist brought to account by the Knights of Chronos for the apparent time paradox caused by allowing Tom Campbell to nab the jewel thieves at the end of the second Dalek film, while Happy Ever After and The Girl At The End of Time, both by Katherine Lopez, are extraordinarily poignant and moving in their treatment of the characters (no more details, sorry - spoilers!).

On the artwork side, again, it's a toughie, but shout-outs must be given for Westley James Smith, who provided the cover, as well as Tony Clark and Dave Golding for their work inside.

If I had one criticism of the fannual, though, it's the spelling errors that crept in. One practically expects the occasional clanger these days, but after all the hard work poured into the fannual, there seemed - to me, at least - to be an uncomfortable number of schoolboy howlers in there that let the side down and could so easily have been removed beforehand with a decent proof-read.

Depending on the format and cover chosen - hardback or paperback, with colour or black-and-white pages - the price of the fannual veers upwards from £5.96, via £16.46, to a whopping £37.80. Don't forget the tax (where applicable) and shipping as well (£3.99, £7.99 and £13.99 payable for that in the UK, depending on the preferred delivery speed). The various formats can be viewed and ordered via this link.

So, if you're looking towards the deluxe end of the range, it could put a serious dent in your wallet, but the choice of outlay is yours. And it's well worth remembering how much the commercial overlords at the BBC charge fans these days for the disappointingly slim official annual and what the fans get in return. I know which of the two - fannual or annual - I'd prefer to have, and the fact that the fannual has already had to be reprinted would indicate that many others readily agree.

A follow-up U.N.I.T Fannual 1974 is in the works and scheduled for publication just before Christmas 2014. Certainly, if the Dr. Who one is anything to go by, then it will be something to relish and savour just as much.

In 2011 Neil Perryman set himself a colossal task - one which many a Doctor Who fan has tried and failed (usually by the time The Sensorites comes up) - the challenge to watch every episode of the classic series in order (including the recons of the missing episodes). He decided to blog about his experiences and, just to add another layer of difficulty, he also decided to do it alongside his wife, Sue - who was not such a fan of the show!

Adventures with the Wife in Space - Living with Doctor Who is not just a paper copy of the blog, however, which is what I thought I would be reading when I picked up this tome. Instead, Perryman had decided to take a more personal angle, framed through playground games, parental break-ups and wince-inducing rugby injuries, and sharing his love with his significant other. All of this will resonate strongly with the mostly male, 40-somethings out there, desperately trying to balance a love which until recently was regarded as deeply uncool with an unimpressed life partner. In fact, it so strongly resembled the life story of my own husband - right down the diversion from fandom to dally with the temptress that is the ZX Spectrum - that I wondered aloud several times if he was in fact Neil Perryman in disguise! The book then moves on to discuss the blog itself, with lots of interesting bonus graphs for the stat-nerds amongst us breaking down Sue’s scores, plus there is a bonus epilogue where Neil and Sue have a chat about The Name Of The Doctor.

The issue for me, however - for someone who was mostly interested in the story behind the blog itself rather than the life story of one Mr. Neil Perryman - is the fan memoir is a subject that has been well documented, with Nick Griffiths writing 2008’s "Dalek I Loved You" and Toby Hadoke's "Moths Ate My Doctor Scarf" stage play being two very high profile examples. It's fully two thirds of the way through the book before you get to the stuff about the blog itself. While it's nice to know about Perryman's "secret origins" if you will it's just not so unusual or compelling as to necessitate devoting a majority of the book to it.

It's where the book touches on Neil and Sue’s relationship this this volume really succeeds. My husband and I are both Doctor Who fans (him, a life long fan, me since 1994 thanks to UK Gold repeats) we met when I joined his local fan group, our first date was at a Doctor Who location, we walked down the aisle to music from the show. Needless to say Doctor Who is a big part of our lives so the notion of rewatching the whole series with him isn't an odd one. However I'm not sure what I'd do if, for example, my hubby suddenly rediscovered his love for bus spotting and decided to write a blog where he takes me to look at buses! At the beginning of the book Perryman writes "I love my wife, I love Doctor Who. I believe my wife loves me. My wife does not love Doctor Who. I think I can make her change her mind about the latter without upsetting the delicate balance of the former. But do I have the right?" Looking back on the blog in the company of the book it seems his decision was more than vindicated. One of the the most interesting things to note for me is that Sue seems to found that her appreciation of post 2005 Doctor Who (which she seemed to like quite a lot independently of  her duties for the blog) has only increased. Contrast with Neil's constant griping in the epilogue! If I had to guess who of the couple got the most from this marathon, I'd say Sue is the clear winner. I also found anecdotes such as the time Sue managed to upset John Levene in a botched attempt to get him to do some audio for a podcast unbelievably funny - this is what I'm coming to this book for.

Overall, if you're a fan of the blog and want to know all the behind the scenes nitty-gritty this book is a must have, however if you're a newcomer to The Wife in Space then I'd recommend checking out the blog first before diving into this book.

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

Last month’s wobble in this Puffin series left me feeling slightly crabby, but thankfully this month things are firmly back on track. Charlie Higson’s rendering of the Ninth Doctor is spot on, aided by occasional riffs on dialogue from series one. And like Malorie Blackman’s Ripple Effect, Higson finds a way to stretch the format of Doctor Who, exploring and developing an intriguing story possibility that would be rather difficult to realize on-screen. The trick that’s pulled off here hinges very much on qualities of the written word, coupled with the fact that readers are likely to make certain assumptions about characters they encounter.

Despite feeling true to the Ninth Doctor’s TV adventuring, The Beast of Babylon doesn’t feature Rose Tyler as the Doctor’s companion, even if her presence constantly hangs over these proceedings. Instead, Higson introduces an original creation to help the Doctor in his Babylonian mission: Ali, a teenage girl from the planet Karkinos who gets swept up in the Doctor’s latest adventure. Higson slots events into an unusual gap in the story Rose; this tale unfolds in the time between the Doctor leaving Rose and Mickey and then returning to ask Rose for a second time if she’ll join him: “did I mention that it also travels in time?” Revisiting canonical events via an altered perspective means that the story can have some fun with familiar moments, for example showing the Doctor rehearsing how he’s going to speak to Rose by practicing an appropriate face. It makes you wonder just how many seemingly spontaneous gestures our favourite Time Lord has rehearsed across his many years…

What’s even more impressive than a new slant on an old moment, though, is the way that Charlie Higson uses this particular story gap to explore a vital theme resonating with the Doctor’s interest in Rose Tyler: essentially, that he needs a companion with the values and virtues of humanity. Ali is almost another Adam  – highlighting how a true companion should behave – and she allows The Beast of Babylon to dramatise what it means to accompany the Doctor through space and time. Higson’s carefully crafted wordplay continues into a gag about Ali being an “a-star” student, with this badge of (astrological) excellence eventually taking on a rather unexpected meaning. Ali also quickly recognises the Doctor as a Time Lord and deduces that he has a TARDIS, making her highly knowledgeable character a different proposition to many of those who travel with the Doctor. If the TV companion’s role is to offer new audiences a way into the Doctor’s strange life, then this example fulfills a rather distinct function. Ali isn’t an identification figure so much as an intensification figure: she intensifies fan-readers’ established sense of the Ninth Doctor’s psychology, as well as deepening the notion that Rose Tyler is the perfect fit for this incarnation at this time.

Caught up in the Doctor’s intergalactic battle against a powerful “Starman”, with this seemingly God-like entity on its way to terrorise ancient Babylon, Ali is forced to confront the “beast” of the ebook’s title in an excellent and surprising sequence. Although she and the Doctor don’t quite form an effective pincer movement against the mysterious, powerful force, Ali proves to be a potent warrior in her own right.

This short story has the feel of an energetic action-adventure romp, but it also layers in more thoughtful material, and the fluid, precise prose is always a pleasure to read. In short, Charlie Higson proves himself to be a “fantastic” addition to the series of writers on this project. Through the figure of Ali he’s created a colourful, spiky companion who helps persuade the Ninth Doctor to give Rose Tyler another chance, at the same time compelling readers to reflect on what it takes to travel with the Doctor. In its questioning, its energy, and its ethical spirit, The Beast of Babylon smartly captures the tone of the Russell T Davies era. Along with Blackman's earlier contribution, this is another must-read part of Puffin's 50th anniversary sequence, paying off its title with style and verve.

Alastair Reynolds is clearly a fan of the Jon Pertwee era, because this novel does a wonderful job of remembering the atmosphere and flavour of classic UNIT stories. The focus on Scottish oil rigs and mysterious marine happenings also feels reminiscent of Terror of the Zygons, whilst Reynolds’ choice of oil company – McCrimmon Industries – neatly suggests the second Doctor’s tenure, offering a canny hybrid of 60s and 70s Doctor Who. At the same time, Reynolds’ focus on the Master – given a more significant role here than in almost any other Who adventure – also involves a couple of smartly implied references to his most recent (John Simm) incarnation, making this something of an eye-opener for all those interested in Time Lord mythology. However, the superiority of the Delgado Master is reinforced: Harvest of Time suggests that the version of the Master faced by the third Doctor must have been the most deadly and the most powerful of all his incarnations.

As might be expected from a writer of Reynolds’ calibre, this is a compelling space opera version of Doctor Who (it’s not really hard SF, however; that would undoubtedly feel out of kilter with the third Doctor’s era of lash-ups, alien action, and gallivanting around the Home Counties). Incidents that would have been impossible to realize on-screen in the 1970s are given freer imaginative rein, along with one scene of carnage and gore which would never have been sanctioned as teatime viewing. Unrestricted by matters of budget or CSO, Reynolds creates an unusual and thrilling alien invasion force in the shape of the Sild. These metallic crab machines are each piloted by a tiny seahorse-like entity, and far from being an all-powerful presence individual Sild can very easily be dealt with. Their true threat emerges through force of numbers, along with their ability to possess human and animal hosts (and a sequence where the Sild use Friesian cows to impede UNIT’s progress is truly chilling).

Harvest of Time avoids merely being a nostalgic return to characters such as Yates, Benton and the Brigadier by combining its note-perfect realization of the UNIT family with some surprising and innovative plot developments. Memory also becomes a key theme and story motor, very appropriately for a novel which so clearly summons up its author's youthful memories of Doctor Who. It's sometimes tempting to suppose that the Doctor-Master relationship has been so well explored that there’s nowhere new to take things, but Reynolds displays vertiginous invention, re-shaping the Master into an unexpected level and scale of threat. Certain aspects of the back story revealed here do feel slightly familiar, but overall this novel offers a freshness of approach, and such an audacious, logical and energizing time travel idea that it’s shocking to think that televised Who has never quite attempted this particular gambit.

Reynolds also has fun with the dynamic between the Doctor and the Master, using small details to cleverly articulate their rivalry, such as the Master refusing to accept that the Doctor is taller than him, or the Doctor not wanting to accept the Master’s superior abilities in temporal science. Indeed, the Master almost becomes a sort of companion to the Doctor at one point (or vice versa), as the novel is split into two main plotlines: one focusing on the Doctor and the Master travelling to an alien world, Praxilion, and the other tackling UNIT’s endeavours to repel the Sild invasion of Earth. Reynolds threads these settings together with aplomb, and the enigmatic Red Queen of Praxilion takes on a greater role in defeating the Sild than might have been anticipated.

There are a number of beautiful, stand-out scenes scattered across this novel. At one point, junior members of UNIT grumble about their task to transport the TARDIS on the back of a lorry, giving readers a wonderful insight into the prosaic day-to-day operations that must underpin the Doctor’s adventures. Ordinary life suddenly runs up against the extraordinary exploits of UNIT, reframing both in refreshing ways. And another stunning scene involves the Master begging the Doctor to help him overcome his evil ways and ‘go straight’… a request which doesn’t quite play out in the way one might imagine.

Amongst all of Reynolds’ brilliant inventiveness, there is also the matter of exactly what the “harvest of time” refers to. The answer, when it comes, is a jaw-dropping realization, and something which greatly deepens and enriches this novel. Although Harvest offers plenty of on-the-money, gung-ho UNIT action, it also carries moments of terrifying darkness, and the monstrous Sild are not the only challenge that the Doctor and the Master must confront.

Meanwhile, McCrimmon Industries is given a human face via one Eddie McCrimmon, and Reynolds subjects this character to a number of transformative experiences. At one point, Eddie matter-of-factly discusses crab monsters via written messages displayed through a window, and rather than tipping the whole alien invasion storyline into absurdity, this adroitly emphasizes the tenacity of the human spirit. Eddie constantly rises to the challenges thrown at McCrimmon Industries, wearing the family name very well indeed.

This is such a satisfying, creative take on classic Who I very much hope Alastair Reynolds is invited back to write another adventure for the Doctor, Josephine Grant and UNIT before too long. It would be particularly fascinating to see what a science fiction writer of Reynolds' standing would make of the Daleks, for instance... And if this is Reynolds’ Doctor Who “Master-piece”, I’d also love to see what he could do with a tale focused more strongly on the Brigadier than usual. It’s common for writers who have made their name through original work to describe working on a franchise as “playing with somebody else’s toys”. But each page of this novel displays a real sense of Alastair Reynolds’ desire to channel the magic of Doctor Who: this is serious play, and it pays handsome tribute to Roger Delgado, Jon Pertwee, Nicholas Courtney, and all those hailing from an era that’s acutely recreated and astutely re-imagined across these pages.