Review Category: Books

Review: Banquet for the Damned / Author: Adam Nevill / Publisher: Pan Books / Release Date: Out Now

Adam Nevill is an author whom I was not overly familiar with. Having never read one of his novels before, I was interested to see just how the quality of Banquet would stack up to the lofty claims that Nevill is Britain’s equivalent to Stephen King, and I had high hopes for the book based on that recommendation alone.

Banquet for the Damned starts off with a quite interesting premise. Set in the quiet student town of St Andrews, the book loosely follows a young rocker named Dante as he meets with a Professor Coldwell, the author of the book that gives this novel its title. Dante sets about discovering the hidden evils behind his dealings with the occult and the ramifications these misadventures have on the people who come into contact with Coldwell.

It all sounds quite intriguing, but the first chapter does not leave a great taste in the mouth. Initially Nevill appears to be far too willing to lose himself in a loquacious writing style that detracts from the story. Now I’m partial to a little bit of wordplay, but not when it seems like a thesaurus has been spewed all over the page.

Luckily, it gets better as Nevill starts to tell his story. Whilst the plot certainly doesn’t rocket along, it does move at a brisk pace, with the murder rate attributed to the black magic beastie and the people behind it being quite impressive in the early going. Unfortunately, poorly built characters abound amongst these early victims, meaning there is little in the way of emotional attachment. This is perhaps unavoidable, as the book places obvious focus on rocker Dante and his friend Tom, alongside Coldwell and his associates, but even their characterisation is haphazard.

The exploration of black magic and the mystery surrounding the creature that is haunting the dreams of so many who come into contact with Coldwell is Banquet’s greatest strength. The first chapter notwithstanding, readers will be gripped by the manner of the various deaths that occur throughout, even if they don’t connect with the characters themselves.

So the book, on the whole, is serviceable but nothing spectacular. It certainly didn’t live up to the high praise on the front cover but, seeing as it is now in its fourth print run, there is clearly a market for the title. Just don’t expect too much from the characters and try instead to enjoy the genuine creepiness of the setting and overarching plot.

 

Review: Doctor Who – Illegal Alien / Author: Mike Tucker, Robert Perry / Publisher: BBC Books / Release Date: Out Now

Illegal Alien is a Seventh Doctor story predominantly set in World War II London. Originally conceived as a script for the show in the 1980s, it was eventually published in book form in 1997. It has been re-issued, with a new introduction, as part of the BBC’s Monster Collection.

The Doctor finds an embattled capital doing its best to cope with Nazi spies, mysterious government factories, the Blitz and a serial killer on the loose. Into this mix come the Cybermen with the usual agenda of cyber-converting everyone that they encounter.

Coupled with this basic plot are a great range of secondary characters. First up is a private detective from Chicago named Cody McBridge who witnesses the crash-landing of a mysterious silver sphere. The police are on hand, with Inspector Mullen, who ends up entangled with the Doctor’s investigations. There are others – retired civil servant George Limb, with criminal connections and friends in high places; dedicated military men (on both sides); and many more besides. The story doesn’t just focus on new characters, but has plenty for both the Doctor and his companion Ace to do.

Given the origin of the story and the date of original publication, it is also fascinating that in many ways the Cybermen read like contemporary creations rather than the less sinister figures that they were in the 20th century TV adventures. Here and there the story also foreshadows some ideas that have been turned in to audio adventures more recently.

Illegal Alien is a well-constructed, enjoyable book that has plenty for either a fan or a more casual reader.

Review: Europe in Autumn / Author: Dave Hutchinson / Publisher: Solaris / Release Date: Out Now

Alternate history stories can be wild affairs, filled with radical changes in concept and pace, uneven action and fantastic ideas. Europe in Autumn takes a slightly gentler route; slight shifts in history leading to a world filled with subtle differences from our own, building up to a series of rather brilliant reveals. The problem is that by the time we get to the interesting twists and turns, we’ve already gotten more than a little bit bored.

In the world of Europe in Autumn, a pandemic has devastated much of the continent, turning the EU into little more than a joke and making each nation very paranoid with highly secure borders. Crime thrives and it is a dark and violent world, dominated mostly by Eastern European gangs. The central plot revolves around a chap called Rudi, a cook from Krakow who gets dragged into a world of deception and double dealing when he joins a gang of smugglers called couriers. It’s a nice idea and makes for some cool spy versus spy scenes, especially as the main character is broadly clueless.

Rudi has to deal with complex Kafkaesque bureaucracy, brutality and ever more bizarre situations. Though Hutchinson’s writing style is direct and uncomplicated, the plot isn’t. It meanders and heads toward the surreal instead. The attention to detail is also all over the place – one moment we have a passionate discussion about cuisine and the next we’re talking about railways. This makes for uneven pacing and large sections where nothing of consequence seems to happen. As we approach the latter half of the novel, the tale seems to both run out of steam and also rush to a conclusion – it feels unfinished in places. Still, the thriller aspects are strong and Rudi is likeable enough.

If you enjoyed books like Osama and Wolfhound Century, but felt that they moved a little too fast, then this is going to be right up your alley. Action fans will be bored, however.

 

Review: Doctor Who – Prisoner of the Daleks / Author: Trevor Baxendale / Publisher: BBC Books / Release Date: Out Now

The Doctor, travelling alone, jumps a time-track (he does that sort of thing, you know) and finds himself at a point in history before the Time War wiped out the Daleks and the Time Lords. Landing on an abandoned refuelling station planet called Hurala, the Doctor quickly finds himself locked in an underground chamber. Inadvertently rescued by a shambolic bunch of intergalactic bounty hunters, he escapes aboard their battered spaceship, The Wayfarer, as the planet comes under attack by the Daleks. They flee the planet with a Dalek prisoner who, when tortured, leads the Doctor to suspect that his oldest enemies are about to embark on their most audacious campaign of all and that Creation itself is under threat. Crikey.

It’s good to see the Daleks make their debut in the BBC Doctor Who book series – this title was originally published in 2009 during the TV show’s ‘reduced duties’ final year for David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor – in a story cleverly constructed not to interfere with the fragile ongoing timeline established for the Daleks since they reappeared in the new series. Trevor Baxendale’s exciting book is any number of things; it’s a 1960s Dalek comic strip on the written page, it’s a big ol’ space opera, the sort of thing we all secretly yearn to see the new series do at least once; and it’s virtually unputdownable. The plot borrows liberally from several televised Dalek yarns – the Daleks at their most brutal, the Daleks excavating the core of a planet using humanoid slaves, a Dalek being savagely tortured by its human captors and, in best new series tradition, the Doctor having a bit of a heart-to-heart with the grisly innards of a Dalek casing. It’s also got spaceships, exploding shattered planets, massive armies of Daleks, killer zombies in the ruins of a city in space.

The Dalek plot is typically audacious and wonderfully, utterly insane. It transpires that they’ve discovered a rift in time at the core of the planet Arkheon, a planet which they’ve already torn apart. They intend to use this rift to gain control of Time and to wipe Humankind from the face of history! Metal bastards! But with Daleks swarming all over the place it’s not long before the Doctor and the crew of The Wayfarer are quite literally… (drum roll)… prisoners of the Daleks. For once the Doctor has absolutely no idea how to thwart his oldest enemies who finally have the upper sucker and it looks like he’s met his match in the metal casing of the ruthless and implacable Command Dalek.

Baxendale’s made a good fist of capturing the mercurial nature of Tennant’s Time Lord; he’s fast, funny, deadly serious, omniscient when he needs to be – and, unusually here, completely powerless and at a loss. The Daleks have really never been better portrayed in off-screen fiction and Terry Nation himself would be proud to see his notorious neo-Nazis depicted as the merciless, pitiless exterminators he created back in 1963. It’s certainly a relief to read a Dalek adventure where they’re ruthless, plotting killing machines rather than the convenient knock-’em-down skittles they’ve become in their most recent television appearances.

The small supporting cast of characters is comprised of the handful of crew members of The Wayfarer and they’re a well-drawn, if fairly typical, rugged space bunch, from the off-hand commander Bowman, gruff pilot Cuttin’ Edge and fresh faced crewman Scrum. It’s a nice twist to find the Doctor in the company of people who aren’t automatically deferential and in awe of him; they remain suspicious of and belligerent to him throughout much of the book and it’s good to see the Doctor not having such an easy ride and finding it harder to get things done his way.

Prisoner of the Daleks isn’t hardcore sci-fi, it’s not especially deep and it’s certainly not meaningful. But if you want a quick dose of genuinely rattling space adventure laced through with the spirit of Doctor Who circa 2009, Prisoner of the Daleks comes very highly recommended indeed.

 

Review: Doctor Who – Sting of the Zygons / Author: Stephen Cole / Publisher: BBC Books / Release Date: Out Now

Sting of the Zygons is a Tenth Doctor (plus Martha) story set in the Lake District in 1909. Originally published in 2007, it has been re-issued, with a new introduction, as part of the BBC’s Monster Collection.

Landing in the Lake District, the Doctor and Martha quickly find that there are Zygons around and that one of their monstrous lake creatures, a Skarasen, has been killed. But what by? As the English gentry flock to the area to bag the Beast of Westmorland in the hunt and impress the King, the Doctor has bigger problems to solve. And just who is the mysterious young girl whose spirit walks the land?

The idea that the Zygons and their Skarasen might be facing a greater enemy is a good one and the first few chapters introduce many interesting characters giving a flavour of the time: it is the early days of film, motor cars are around but not wonderful and technology is represented by the telegraph. The writing also extends the basic Zygon premise from the original Fourth Doctor story, though in ways that seem natural rather than being hugely innovative.

Sadly the latter two-thirds rely on an extended game of spot-the-Zygon-in-disguise, a few abductions and rescues and some cleverness from the Doctor. The ending is standard fare and feels perfunctory compared to the promise of the novel’s start. To some small extent it has also been overshadowed by the use of the Zygons in Day of the Doctor and we do wonder how much Steven Moffat may have drawn from Stephen Cole’s treatment of the Zygons in this book.

Sting of the Zygons is OK, though not by any means the author’s best Doctor Who novel. As a piece of entertainment, it is fine but nothing more.

 

Review: Half a King / Author: Joe Abercrombie / Publisher: Del Rey Books / Release Date: July 8th

Following a similar line of thought to George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, Half a King consists of a tale of betrayal, political manoeuvring and war. Set in a world in which the more fantastical elements are kept to a bare minimum, it follows the journey of Prince Yarvi. Born a cripple and a weakling, Yarvi is forced to ascend to the throne upon the sudden loss of his father and favoured brother to lead their country in a time of war. Unsuited to the role and with little support, it is not a task he relishes. One which is soon to be made all the more difficult by those who desire the Black Chair for themselves…

While it wears its influences on its sleeve, Joe Abercrombie’s book nonetheless maintains its own identity and never stoops to outright slavish imitation. With no mention of Others, wolves and less focus upon the politics of war, the book instead follows a single story – namely, Yarvi’s efforts to survive following the tumultuous events which lead him to ascend to the throne. Unlike his brother, he is not a warrior, forcing him to utilise any means he can get in order to find his way back and take revenge.

Yarvi’s quest brings him into contact with a multitude of different figures and is used to flesh out elements of the world as the book progresses. You’re given enough details to want to keep reading but never enough to fully understand the world, a strength as this will keep you invested but it’s also a failing as the book never quite provides the answers you want. There are glimpses here of a truly fascinating world on par with the Twilight Reign series, but as this is Yarvi’s series it’s frustratingly never the complete focus of any scene.

Furthermore, while the book has a strong story it reads as if basics have been ignored. Abercrombie seems to have skipped any real introductions for the characters or setting, and the opening is extremely jarring.

Half a King has the beginnings of a great tale, but never goes quite far enough. Give it a look if you like the sound of the blurb, but don’t expect anything perfect.

 

Review: The Fell Sword / Author: Miles Cameron / Publisher: Gollancz / Release Date: Out Now

Set in an alternative Middle Ages, The Fell Sword is the second book in the Traitor Son trilogy. The action spans a vast area – so much so that there’s a couple of maps at the beginning should you get lost – and it carries on from where the previous book, The Red Knight, left off. The titular hero and his armoured gang feature once again. However, as it is such a huge tome, some of the Red Knight and his company’s narrative is lost in the many strands of plot.

Epic both in imaginative scale and physical size – it weighs in at about 600 pages – it is a little bloated and sometimes lapses into prose so purple it’s royal violet. The action in the first half of the book flits around so much it’s sometimes difficult to remember who is who, especially as some of the characters’ names are interchangeable – for example, the young empress is also known as the princess.

There is a good deal of spot-the-high-fantasy-trope – a spotty youth with obvious magical powers, a black knight, wolves, an evil queen who’s insanely jealous of her pretty pregnant daughter-in-law who’s the wife of her favourite son, etc. There are talking trees, knights bantering in archaic language, and, of course, the eponymous Fell Sword – which actually doesn’t feature much in a great deal of the book. There are some great descriptions of blood baths with added gore, a gloriously terrible sex scene between Ghause and the Earl which is a possible contender for this year’s Bad Sex Award, and, of course, the near downfall of a kingdom

If you enjoyed the first book, then you’ll find this a nice, if long, follow-up. If you haven’t read the first books, or if you’re into Game of Thrones, flowery prose, actions scenes and beautiful women with shapely feet, you’ll love this. It’s all big, silly fun… well, until someone gets flayed or eaten by a boggle.

 

Review: The Quest for Pedler – The Life and Ideas of Dr Kit Pedler / Author: Michael Seely / Publisher: Miwk / Release Date: March 20th

Dr Christopher Magnus Howard ‘Kit’ Pedler is one of the great and largely unsung heroes of Doctor Who. Drafted into the series in 1966 by then-producer Innes Lloyd and tasked to inject a bit of real-world scientific oomph into a series which was running out of steam and drifting into fantastical whimsy, Kit found a kindred spirit in the show’s story editor Gerry Davis. Motivated by shared concerns about the unfettered nature of contemporary scientific advancement, they together created the Cybermen, one of the Doctor’s most persistent and implacable enemies. Pedler himself wrote three Cybermen scripts for Doctor Who between 1966 and 1967 and provided the storylines for three other serials between 1966 and 1968.

But there’s so much more to Dr Kit Pedler than a fairly brief flirtation with the world of Doctor Who, so fans expecting pages of fascinating behind-the-scenes gossip and anecdotes about the making of the series in the 1960s will be sorely disappointed. So too will fans of classic 1970’s enviro-drama Doomwatch, which Pedler and Davis also created (the same author has written a couple of other titles which comprehensively chronicle this ground-breaking series), although, in fairness, it is covered in appropriate detail here. Because in many ways Doomwatch wasn‘t just the name of a TV series Pedler worked on for two years (before creative differences with the producer drove him way from the third season); it was also pretty much a way of life.

The Quest for Pedler is really a book about an extraordinary, quirky, visionary human being who recognised and appreciated the danger man represented to his own world and his environment years before such issues became headline news or trendy T-shirt slogans. Kit spent many years doing research into eye disease at London University’s Institute for Ophthalmology (and setting up its electron microscopy department) before being seduced by the allure of writing for television which, in turn, led to the publication of a number of luridly titled SF novels which all shared Pedler’s trademark concerns about the ecology and the perils of unchecked scientific progress. His falling-out with the BBC during the era of Doomwatch distanced him from the TV world until later in his life and he continued championing his dream of humanity leading a less frenetic and more natural existence and at one point he was part of a consortium bidding to create an idyllic alternative technology centre on the banks of the Thames.

Michael Seely’s book is a staggeringly thorough piece of work, exhuming scripts, lecture notes, obscure magazine articles and interviews and with contributions from many of Pedler’s family and friends. Literally no stone has been left unturned in presenting an exhaustive record of the life and times of a unique and rare talent, from an intricate ‘family tree’ account of the lives of his ancestors to what at times seems like a day-by-day diary of his early days as a struggling house physician at Kingston Hospital and years of penury as a young husband and father. Long sections detailing many of Pedler’s scientific detours may lead to a certain glazing-over of the eyes and the author’s text is occasionally a little breathless but it’s impossible not to be dazzled and overwhelmed by a work which is quite clearly an absolute labour of love.

Kit Pedler, who never enjoyed the best of health, died suddenly (and peacefully) in May 1981 at the age of just 53 at a time when his TV career was finding its feet and he was within an ace of achieving what must surely have been one of his great ambitions – to become a respected and recognised popular scientist. The Quest for Pedler is an engrossing and challenging read but it’s also inspirational, life-affirming and potentially even life-changing.

Review: Space Monsters Magazine #3 / Author: Richard Gladman / Publisher: Self-published / Release Date: Out Now

Space Monsters #3 is now out and it’s a good ‘un. The brainchild of editor Richard Gladman, Space Monsters, to make the point obvious, is designed to celebrate monsters from outer space (or with a definite sci-fi slant!). Hence this month’s issue focuses on Frankenstein on film, with a strong Hammer contingent.

As usual the level of writing is superb. Sascha Cooper contributes a pretty thorough history of Frankenstein adaptations, taking us from the very earliest silent days through the Universal classics to Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), with the 1950s onwards picked up next month. Emily Booth provides a witty account of Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster, a kitschy romp from 1965 about a robot who combats Martian invaders who come to impregnate our women. Part of the fun in reading Booth’s monthly column is waiting for the asides and side swipes at directors she has worked with. ‘Having been impregnated by aliens myself in Evil Aliens’, she jokes, ‘ their methods seem almost humane compared to the hell Jake West put me through.’ Priceless!

Pete Shorney gives us an overview of Quatermass at the movies, covering Hammer’s three features, as well as the lessor known Euston Films’ 1979 TV mini-series based on an original script by Nigel Kneale, starring John Mills. Shorney also discusses the 1996 radio show The Quatermass Memoirs and 2005’s Jason Flemyng-starring The Quatermass Experiment, and reflects on Kneale’s influence on people like Stephen King and John Carpenter.

Joseph Losey’s The Damned (1963) gets a short ‘n’ sweet review by Dom O’Brien, who rightly praises Losey’s timeless direction. It’s a film that needs to be seen in its original 94 minute version to be fully appreciated. Another early Hammer release is the subject of Anthony Gates’ appreciative retrospective. Four Sided Triangle (1953), is, as Gates says, a fairly tentative step into science fiction for Hammer, but a fascinating one nonetheless.

Bringing us into the American nature-runs-amok subgenre of the 1970s, Ernie Magnotta casts an affectionate glance at Empire of the Ants, the 1977 Joan Collins-starring cheese-fest from Bert I. Gordon. As Magnotta says, it’s so bad it’s good, and gives us a whopping list of 28 classic moments from the film. Radioactive waste that looks like silver paint has to come near the top!

Jonathan Dabell contributes an equally engaging piece on Hammer’s Jurassic classics. There’s fur bikinis and Harryhausen stop-motion dinos aplenty, as Dabell rounds up One Million Years B.C., Prehistoric Women, When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth and Creatures The World Forgot for an affectionate critical mauling.

Dom O’Brien’s second piece this month is a fascinating account of the 1973 Fantastic Planet, Rene Laloux’s groundbreaking surrealistic sci-fi animation, which is, as Dabell says, still impressive today.

Cranston McMillan contributes a retrospective of 1970 monster mags, including two by our beloved Honorary Editor-in Chief Dez Skinn. Anyone out there who has never read Monster Mag or House of Hammer (not to mention World of Horror or Legend Horror Classics) needs to check out McMillan’s article asap.

Gladman springs a coup by landing Debbie Rochon, veteran scream queen of Santa Claws (1996) and Tromeo and Juliet (1996) for her Top 5 sci-fi movies; while Dabell contributes an article on another obscure Hammer gem Spaceways (1953). Pieces on The Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas, Moon Zero Two (1969) and X – The Unknown (1956) continue the Hammer sci-fi theme, and most enjoyably too.

As usual, Space Monsters includes some superb lobby cards and movie posters from the period courtesy of Steve Kirkham and Stephen Jones/Monsters from Hell, as well as great original artwork by Woody Welch, Ash Loydon, and Billy Chainsaw. The whole thing, as ever, is lovingly put together by editor Gladman and designer Kirkham; and fittingly, this issue is dedicated to the late Forrest J. Ackerman whose Famous Monsters of Funland – as Gladman points out – started the whole monster mag thing off in the first place.

To order your copy go here: http://www.classichorrorcampaign.com/space-monsters-magazine.

Review: Astra / Author: Naomi Foyle / Publisher: Jo Fletcher Books / Release Date: Out Now

Set after a catastrophic event involving the world’s current consumption of fossil fuels and oil, Astra is an environmentalist’s dream come true. Is-Land is a country created after this defining event that is home to those who call themselves Gaians. These people worship Gaia (Earth) and make it their life’s mission to protect her from those who would harm her. They practise veganism, free love on a wide scale, children have a minimum of three parents (two biological and up to two ‘shelter’) and they are all nudists. When we meet Astra, she is a seven-year-old girl who is ready to have her security shot so that she can do her national service and defend her Gaian homeland from ‘Non-Lander infiltrators’. She strives to become a famous scientist one day, just like her shelter-parents. But all of this is turned upside down when one of her shelter-mothers, Dr Hokma Blesser, tells her if she wants to become an exceptional scientist she should not have her shot. Her desire to achieve this pushes her to agree to Hokma’s plan. As Astra grows up she becomes entangled in a web of collusions and adult relationships before having to finally take her fate into her own hands and learn to survive in a world that is not as black and white as she first thought.

Set during three turning points in Astra’s life (aged seven, 12 and 17), the novel quickly becomes a surprisingly gripping piece; what first appears as a novel based on environmentalist philosophy takes a sharp turn into politics. Themes of colonialism, anti-immigration, and indoctrination become apparent and as Is-Land’s history is gradually revealed the book becomes a more compelling read. One of the more shocking notions within the novel is its exploration of sex and children’s sexual development. Gaian children as young as seven are encouraged to ‘Gaia play’ or masturbate with themselves, and, as the community is nudist, are exposed to genitalia constantly from a very young age. When they reach puberty they are expected to develop sexual relationships with other children of their age group and become ‘Gaia play partners’. Penetration is forbidden until the age of fifteen, but the book is nevertheless very bold in its approach to this issue.

Shocking though it might be in some respects, Astra certainly provides food for thought. The attitude the Gaian people have towards each other is refreshing; they are, on the whole, a loving and peaceful community. They accept one another for who they are, regardless of gender, race, or sexuality, which is something in today’s society that is drastically lacking. Their attitude to early sexual development is still concerning, but their approach to sexual education is clear and informative. With regards to the book itself, the first couple of chapters are difficult to understand due to the amount of new vocabulary introduced (names of people, places, etc), but once you get past this, the story quickly becomes engrossing. The ending is abrupt, but it makes you crave the second instalment of the Gaia Chronicles. Astra will certainly not be everyone’s cup of tea, but personally I am looking forwards to the next book with curiosity and excitement.