As the author states in the introduction, this is not a Doctor Who encyclopaedia, nor a guide, but “the story of all of the Doctor’s adventures,” and that is indeed what one gets to read.

A British ex-pat, Thompson writes a book mostly orientated towards new viewers, people who probably discovered the show by the end of Matt Smith’s tenure, or who just went on board because they were already Peter Capaldi fans. In any case, what this book offers is a detailed story of the show’s history, from its creation to its demise in the 1980s and its reboot in 2005. Of course, there is a detailed account of all the Doctors, the companions and the villains of the show -needless to say, the Daleks have their own chapter.

The funny thing about this introductory book (which also contains plenty of new and useful information for the Doctor Who connoisseurs) is that Thompson is not afraid to share his personal opinion. After all, this is a very intimate book, written by someone who witnessed the birth of the show back in 1963 and who grew up with it. That way, anyone who has never watched Doctor Who and decides to give it a try, will probably feel biased and influenced by Thompson’s own tastes, instantly disliking the Sixth Doctor (and I say dislike in an effort to avoid the word “hate”) and Matt Smith’s Eleventh, as well as companions Rory and Amy, whose stay at the TARDIS he considers “a nest of domestic tedium.” They are not the only ones, though, as he shares his views on every companion (he could not stand Adric, Mel or Peri and does not even consider Grace Holloway as one).

These are Thompson’s memoirs of his life as a Doctor Who fan, so he talks about every companion and Doctor with the knowledge of an expert, one that simply tells you whom he liked and whom he did not, as it is expected. Or maybe I am okay with it because he loves David Tennant’s Tenth and Billie Piper’s Rose Tyler, who happen to be my Doctor and my companion.

The book is written with wit and in a compelling way that allows the reader to learn more about the history of Doctor Who, but it is especially helpful for those who joined the show’s fandom after its comeback in 2005, because it contains an impressive amount of stories and facts from the series’ first stint, information that surely helps understand many thing from the new Doctor Who. Because in the end, 50 years is a lot of time. There are so many episodes, novels, audiobooks, comics... The so-called Whoniverse comprises a huge amount of material than can get lost in the mind of a fan, and that is exactly what Thompson wants to avoid, by collecting all the necessary information a Whovian needs to know.

After all, if each one of us wrote a book about our Doctor Who life experience, it would look pretty much like this one. And that is what makes it a must-read.

(If you want to read more from a Doctor Who fanatic, you can visit my blog )

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.

A book about Robert Holmes has two immediate attractions. The first is his reputation as the doyen of Doctor Who scriptwriters. The second is his comparative invisibility as a personality alongside fellow production personnel; extroverts like John Nathan-Turner aside, Doctor Who fans think they know the opinions of figures such as Terrance Dicks, Barry Letts or Christopher H. Bidmead, while Robert Holmes is lost somewhere beyond them, dissolving into a cloud of pipe smoke. This is remarkable because for many followers of the series in the 1970s and 1980s Robert Holmes was not just someone whose appearance on the credits one looked forward to, he was someone whose imagination you admired and envied, someone you secretly wanted to be.

Richard Molesworth is from that generation and his admiration for Robert Holmes is obvious before the scent of old tobacco arises from the long-locked ottoman in Holmes's study. He's largely writing to the converted, of course: most of his readers will need little persuading to wish themselves among the Lyons' Corner House lunch club of the last generation of weekly topical illustrated magazine journalists in the 1950s, alongside Holmes, Robert Banks Stewart, Wilfred Greatorex and other familiar names from the television drama series of the next two decades. Molesworth has a knack for the presentation of documentary material in a conversational style, and the reader is taken through the battle to receive a regular stream of television commissions with ease. The bravado which Holmes developed as work became easier to come by gives way in the 1980s to a harsher reality as the number of opportunities gradually contracts. Those who have read Richard Marson's JN-T: The Life and Scandalous Times of John Nathan-Turner will not be surprised to find the mid-1980s emerge from Molesworth's text as a time when a feeling that they had been betrayed by one of their own haunted producers, editors and writers accustomed to convivial and creative meetings in the offices, bars and restaurants of Shepherds Bush.

The subtitle A Life in Words gives away that this book isn't really a biography. Much standard information is missing. There is little comment on Holmes's parents and upbringing, and nothing about his schooling. The influence of his wartime experiences in the Far East on his writing isn't considered as thoroughly as it might be, given the preoccupations evident in some of his best-remembered work. While the milieu of those who worked on the dying illustrated magazines is fairly well-sketched, we have no sense of how Robert Holmes edited John Bull, which had been one of the most infamous but financially successful titles of the early twentieth century under its first editor, the swindler and Liberal MP Horatio Bottomley, and which in the late 1950s - Holmes's era - maintained a lively contemporary-dramatic visual style combining the kitchen-sink domestic with the incongruous and dangerous. The advance of cirrohsis of the liver passes without the chance being taken to look at the alcohol-laden work culture of the 1960s and 1970s and how far Holmes participated in it, however keen he was to get back from London to his cottage in Leighton Buzzard. There are occasional slips which would have surely been caught by an informed proofreader, such as the reference to a writer called 'Alan Owens' when presumably Alun Owen is meant, and as with many non-fiction books from small publishers one regrets the absence of an index.

Some of the weaknesses of the book might arise from Molesworth's evident admiration for Holmes, but that of course brings strengths. These include the 'Interludes' in which Molesworth breaks his narrative of Holmes's career with scene breakdowns and story outlines from Holmes's various projects, some, but not all, being early versions of his Doctor Who episodes. Pedants who for long years have insisted on calling the last two episodes of The Trial of a Time Lord 'Time Inc.' may be taken aback to find that by the time of Holmes's death this provisional title had been overtaken by another more suited to the episodes' content and satirical target. The transcript of the 'script conference' enacted for the benefit of the makers of Whose Doctor Who confirms the hitherto unfashionable reading that a specific script is actually being discussed. Other revelations about Holmes's time on Doctor Who are thrown in without comment, some frustratingly unsourced so it's unclear whether one is reading something for which there is documentary proof or an authorial inference from unidentified evidence. There's some consideration of how corporate and personality politics affected the direction of Doctor Who in 1977 as Holmes left, though one wonders whether Chris Boucher would have flourished as script editor of Doctor Who in the way he seems to have at Blake's 7. The most intriguing possibilities the book offers are those of Holmes's unfinished projects. If Northcliffe (or The Chief), the historical biodrama he was to write under the producership of Louis Marks, had reached fruition, Holmes might have been respected by a wider circle, though as this book shows television writing could be a fickle business even in a supposed past golden age.

Robert Holmes: A Life in Words may leave one with more questions than answers about this fondly-remembered storyteller, but the quantity of information it gathers into one place earns it a place on the Doctor Who fan bookshelf, as does the warmth with which Holmes is remembered by colleagues quoted in the book, whether specially interviewed by Molesworth - such as Robert Banks Stewart - or gathered from earlier publications and documentaries. It's an admiring and competent read which could have benefited from better editing and the overcoming of some production flaws - such as the incomplete table of Holmes's works - which it's hoped will be achieved at a later printing. Molesworth takes us into the pipe smoke, and while he doesn't clear it, the man within can be seen more clearly than he was before.

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

If this month’s Puffin short story sounds as though it has a hackneyed title then there’s actually a good reason for that. Because the tenth Doctor and Martha rapidly discover – spoiler warnings again here! – that what they really need to investigate is the mystery of The Mystery of the Haunted Cottage: they are apparently trapped in a predictable, Enid Blyton-esque children’s book once read by Martha. In this sub-'Famous Five' world, populated by a jolly group of kids known as the Troubleseekers, the Doctor and Martha have to work out exactly what sort of trouble they’re in.

Derek Landy has created an intriguing scenario, adroitly referring to the Land of Fiction as well as the Doctor’s previous encounters with a certain fictional vampire. Indeed, one of the most enjoyable sections of the tale occurs when the Doctor and Martha tumble crazily through different narratives, suddenly finding themselves in a Stephen King novel, for instance. But the leading difficulty with this kind of tale – whose villain gains his power from readers’ willing suspension of disbelief – is ironically that you can’t suspend your disbelief. You know all along that the unreal worlds will somehow be switched off, that 'reality' will be restored, and consequently this feels more like hearing a shadowy dream recounted than reading a realist narrative.

For me, Landy’s version of the tenth Doctor is slightly off: this doesn’t quite sound like the David Tennant incarnation on occasions, unlike last month’s contribution from Charlie Higson which perfectly captured the ninth Doctor’s speech patterns. This representation of the Doctor says he’ll judge Martha Jones later on for the fact that she’s read the Twilight books, and though the comment may be a joke, it seems as if this rendering of the tenth Doctor has uncharacteristically become a literary snob rather than an open-minded figure. Other moments of dialogue also feel odd, such as the Doctor cursing by saying “seven hells” and remarking on his own "good hair".

At a vital point in his story, Landy offers us a glimpse of the Doctor’s imagination and all the books he’s ever read. If ever there was a candidate for an epic moment of the awesomely sublime then this ought to be it, but instead what we’re given here feels barely less clichéd than the Troubleseekers with their oath and their cheery picnics. This is very much a missed opportunity, all generic fantasy forestland and coloured sky, before changing into a constantly blurring flipbook of shifting scenes. To be fair, this does effectively convey the Doctor’s imagination in the process of overloading his antagonist, but it still feels rather cursory and predictable. The story’s denouement also disappointed me slightly. Its equation of the TARDIS with “the imagination” is well taken, but when a resolution pretty much boils down to shutting the TARDIS door then you can’t help but feel slightly cheated (whether or not this is readable as a tricksily “meta” version of Doctor Who, where going into the TARDIS necessarily means the end of the story).

But perhaps I’m being too negative, just as the Doctor takes a cavalier attitude to the Troubleseekers and sparkly Twilight stuff. On the plus side, Landy gives Martha a strong role in this story; as well as hinting at her romantic interest in the Doctor – resonating with series three – it’s often Martha who works out what’s going on, and who takes risks that propel the story forward (and away from the threat of nothingness). And The Mystery of the Haunted Cottage also features some appropriate monsters or henchmen, neatly called the un-Men, who serve as a physical threat where needed. But having the Doctor be so starkly dismissive of “rubbish” old-fashioned children’s fiction makes him sound more like a contemporary writer than a citizen of the universe who walks (and presumably reads) in eternity. At one point, Landy’s plot relies on the observation that his omnipotent ‘Author’ can’t resist a temptation to insert himself into the story: likewise, the Doctor’s attitudes sometimes feel as if they veer too close to authorial commentary.

This story begins with a clever idea that is smartly developed in a series of ways (although the collision with fairytales might have played better as an eleventh Doctor scenario). It also offers a second pay-off to its title, in the form of an unexpected “haunting”, but nonetheless remains weakened by an overly convenient ending and a depiction of the tenth Doctor that feels slightly too churlish and self-appreciative. In the end, perhaps there just isn’t enough awe-inspiring mystery to this particular haunted cottage.

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.