More Doctor Who audios – I know I said I was taking a break, but had problems finding and then ripping the CDs I actually wanted to listen to, so they will have to be later in the week. Two clunkers, one OK and one superb one this time.
21) Alias vol 2: Come Home, by Brian Michael Bendis
I reported previously that I enjoyed the first in this series about a disaffected private eye with super powers, and I enjoyed this one as well; the main story is about our heroine on the track of a missing teenager, and uncovering a nasty family background and awful small-town environment; then there is a tail-end to the story where she goes on a dinner date. I find it very compelling.
Back in 1973, Dalek stories were
“Her virtues were too numerous to describe, and not sufficiently interesting to deserve description.”
This turns out to be quite onerous! One person’s questions were not specially icon or interest related, and will have to wait.
This icon originated in this post, part of my efforts to get informed about the Lake Doiran campaign and the Battle of Kosturino in December 1915, in which my grandfather participated. The map is a sketch from Ward Price’s book on the campaign, showing what is now the south-eastern corner of the Republic of Macedonia, a country I know fairly well though I have spent only a day and a night in that part of it (a seminar in Štip, many years ago, followed by an overnight and another seminar in Strumica). I hope to get down there the weekend after next to complete my researches.
As explained at some length a while back to
This was practically the first icon I designed for myself, one of the many photographs taken of Buzz Aldrin on the moon by Neil Armstrong. I use it here for all posts and comments on sf and fantasy matters which are not actual book reviews (for which I use a separate icon). Rather to my surprise I found a few months ago that someone had started using it as their default icon – not just a case of great minds thinking alike, but the two icons were identical as far as my graphics software could tell, and I knew I had made this one!
This icon was made for me by the wonderful, Hugo-winning
The often mocked Bird of Liberty logo is the symbol of the Liberal Democrats, the third party in British politics. I’ve been a member of the party since it was founded in 1988, and was elected on a Lib Dem platform to Cambridge University Students Union (see above); I was also a candidate for Cambridge City Council in 1990 on the Lib Dems ticket, and am still a member of the Brussels branch. I was more prominent, of course, in the Alliance Party of Northern Ireland, which is a sister party of the Lib Dems; I was their central director of election/party organiser for three years, and was again a candidate in North Belfast in 1996. I tend to use my Northern Ireland icon for posts on NI politics, but am occasionally moved to comment on the Lib Dems (especially during last year’s leadership election) and so have this icon in reserve.
Orac was one of the group known as Blake’s Seven in the British science fiction series of the same name which ran from January 1978 to December 1981, a bleak view of the future which seems eerily reminiscent now of the rise of Margaret Thatcher to power. (Though there were not always seven of Blake’s Seven, and Blake was barely seen in the third and fourth seasons.) In general Orac was a deeply annoying know-it-all computer, so his occasional variations from that were very amusing. I use the icon to illustrate posts about computers and IT generally, and I’m getting into the habit of using it also for memes. Am planing to re-watch Blake’s Seven in the near future.
Another Balkan map, this one done as a one-off for a particular entry on the history of Eastern Rumelia, which was carved off the Ottoman empire in 1878 and became part of Bulgaria in 1885 (the ensuing war with Serbia being the setting for George Bernard Shaw’s “Arms and the Man”. The icon is taken from this map. I just love the fact that western policy-makers were gravely discussing the fate of Philippopolis when the locals just called it Plovdiv (Пловдив). I will probably never do another post about the Eatern Rumelia question, unless some miracle of fate actually brings me there, but I do occasionally use this icon to illustrate posts or comments about peculiar and confusing situations.
This is actually a picture of the great Victorian Irish astronomer, Sir Robert Stawell Ball (1840-1913), the subject of one of my M Phil essays in 1991. He was very well known as a populariser of science, though his actual scientific discoveries were in fact more in the exotic field of the mathematics of screws (now apparently an important concept in robot engineering). This is one of the famous series of caricatures of public figures done for the magazine Vanity Fair by Leslie Ward (known as ‘Spy’). I use it for mild amusement; several other happy icons (including the dancing cyberman, above) get more use though.
Yeah, my fascination with body paint again; I think I found the original image by googling “patriotic body paint”, though it doesn’t come up when I try the search now. I use it to illustrate posts about contemporary America which are not related to the institution of the presidency in general (for which I use this, taken from Google Earth’s view of the White House) or Gerald Ford in particular (for which I use this).
Ooof, that was hard work. Feel free to ask again about more interests or icons, or to ask me to ask you about yours, but it may be a while before I compile another set of answers!
The rather nice moment of Sec picking up the radio.
The doubting Daleks.
Dalek attack on the camp is a bit half-hearted…
Solomon tries to talk to the Daleks. Bet they kill him.
Martha left behind by the Doctor in Hooverville as companions always are. To show her dismayed expression the camera tracks up from her cleavage. Slowly.
But she’s very clever, and while the Doctor is engaging in pointless banter with the Daleks, she is working out what is in the sewers.
My wife sniggers scornfully at the reference to gamma radiation.
Crumbs, Davros was wrong? Dalek Sec has decided to undo the mutation? (I preferred The Mutant Phase’s take.)
Daleks ask the Doctor to take them to a better place, and he agrees!!!
“If aliens had to come to earth, no wonder they came here!” Of course these days it would be San Francisco.
Doctor has his glasses on again.
Tallulah and Martha on the Doctor and love, etc.
“The line feeds are ready.” (Aren’t line feeds old-fashioned computer printers?)
Oh, very Frankenstein! The solar flare rather than lightning of course, but still…
Now the Daleks are rebelling. This is being done much better than the Dalek conflict in Resurrection of the Daleks. Also of course my sympathies are very much with the anti-Sec faction.
“First floor, perfumery” – ah, Rocky Horror nostalgia.
(How is the solar flare going to make much difference at night time?)
Poor old Laszlo. Obviously doomed, but it solves the problem of how he and Tallulah can get together again; they won’t because he will be dead.
Whoops, dropped the sonic screwdriver!
Really great shot of the lightning strike!
Martha’s remorse, and Laszlo’s reassurance, nicely done.
Dalek army of humans awakes… Despite getting electrocuted the Doctor failed.
The Daleks have not got out of the habit of imprisoning captives in their control room, first seen in Dalek Invasion of Earth.
The silent dalek hybrid army and Carmina Burana style music – very effective.
“If you choose death and destruction, death and destruction will choose you” – a good line, must mean he is about to die.
Hah, the radiation passing through the Doctor’s body obviously is enough to save the day.
So are these people going to be a new generation of Time Lords then?
Hah, Daleks killed by their own creation.
But they had a way of killing them off. No new Time Lords then.
“Just one.” Dalek Caan is the last one left. Will he get away?
Laszlo is doomed. Or is he? Hah, the Doctor is not completely useless. Indeed, “The Doctor is in.” Well, that’s a plot twist I didn’t expect.
Back at the Statue of Liberty. “There’s someone for everyone.” “Maybe.” Awww.
I see we’re back in Martha’s home period next week. Will be better, I expect. This wasn’t as bad as last week’s, but the two-parter was the weakest story so far this year.
20) Doctor Who and the Carnival of Monsters, by Terrance Dicks
A good Robert Holmes script, turned into an average Terrance Dicks novel. I remember seeing this one in 1981 during the “Five Faces of Doctor Who” repeat season; wonder how well it would stand up to re-watching now?
(Apologies if this appears twice; problems posting)
There’s nothing like watching or listening to a good Dalek story to make you realise how bad a bad Dalek story can be. But more of that after this evening’s episode has been broadcast. Thanks to my new commitment to Being Fit, I have been listening to more of the Big Finish audio plays than I usually manage. I’ve gone slightly out of order, in that I skipped straight from The Shadow of the Scourge to The Mutant Phase without listening to the two Frobisher stories in between, but since they aren’t really sequential it doesn’t really matter.
As has been mentioned around the place, I just turned 40. The time has come to start trying to keep fit.
I do do the occasional bike ride at weekends, but I feel that isn’t very systematic and also eats into my family time. I suppose I could have saved the membership money and just gone for systematic jogging and cycling first thing in the morning; but to be honest I felt I needed to make a financial commitment to increase the chances that I would stick with it (sunk cost fallacy I know, but it works psychologically). Also with the membership you do get advice from the instructors, which saves me trying to navigate through websites or read up on it from elsewhere.
I have never done regular exercise, and need all the incentives I can manufacture to stick at it. The really big incentive is of course the most intangible one of increased longevity. My father died as a result of an unexpected heart attack changing planes in JFK airport when he was 62, in 1990. His father had dropped dead beside him, also after a sudden heart attack, at church one day in 1949; he was 68. My mother’s father also died of a sudden heart attack in his mid-60s, in 1977. The pattern is clear, and so is the moral. My paternal grandfather was probably the fittest of the three, and also lived longest. (Though like many ex-colonials he suffered from the aftereffects of malaria, etc.)
Anyway, I have now done two gym sessions and feel very virtuous. They have put me on what is presumably the standard beginner’s programme, 15 minutes biking, 20 on the walking belt, 15 on the striding machine, and then a few dozen abdominal stretches. I did it for the first time on Tuesday and felt tired but good for the rest of the day. Wednesday was hell, though, with every part of my body (especially the abs) thoroughly aching. But I got out of the house early enough on Thursday to do it again, and now feel fine this morning.
Timing is a bit of an issue. The gym’s location makes it tricky to get to work on time even leaving home an hour early. Also I am still looking for somewhere to get a decent breakfast – there are loads of places between gym and office which will do the standard Belgian croissants and coffee, but I do hanker after bacon and eggs.
Anyway, will report back here regularly on how it goes.
On a largely different topic, thank you everyone for your birthday wishes yesterday! And I particularly appreciated the thoughtfulness of this card (you know who you are – it was in a locked entry so I feel I can’t give you the credit you deserve).
19) The Way to Babylon, by Paul Kearney
I think I picked this up as part of my Worldcon haul in 2005. A rather lyrically done tale of a fantasy novelist who is recovering from an accident in which his wife died, and finds himself sucked bodily into the world he has created – or has he? Was it perhaps “really” there all the time?
The protagonist’s grief and healing are nicely observed. It would be very easy to fall into being twee with a plot like this, and Kearney skilfully avoids that trap. All very well described.
My tenth birthday was on a Tuesday. I don’t remember a lot about it. I was living here, in the house my parents had moved to a couple of months before I was born. I was in my second last year at St Anne’s Primary School; I have totally lost touch with my friends from then (unlike the friends I made when I moved to the grammar school next door in 1978, all of whom I still email from time to time).
In the outside world, Queen Elizabeth was celebrating her Silver Jubilee. President Carter was three months into his term of office. The Ulster Workers Council were preparing for their second general strike, which turned out to be a fiasco. ABBA were at #1 in the UK with “Knowing Me, Knowing You“, and Thelma Houston was at #1 in the USA with “Don’t Leave Me This Way” (later of course covered by the Communards). Perhaps more significantly, The Clash has just released their first album.
My twentieth birthday was on a Sunday, and I remember it rather better. I was in my first year at Cambridge, living here, and after a morning’s work in the college library had a romantic afternoon and dinner with my girlfriend. In those days I still thought I might be a physicist with a strong interest in politics rather than (as it turned out) a political activist with little remaining interest in physics.
In the outside world, Gary Hart’s presidential campaign was approaching its, er, premature climax. The Reagan presidency was staggering to its end. Mrs Thatcher was preparing for her third (and as it turned out last) election victory. Madonna was at #1 in the UK with “La Isla Bonita” and Aretha Franklin and George Michael in the US with “I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me)”.
My thirtieth birthday was on a Saturday, and I remember it very well indeed. I was living here, and working in my first international politics job. I spent most of the day in the office, there being little else to do since Anne (heavily pregnant with Bridget) was still in Belfast. But I had a party in my apartment in the evening, with all my colleagues and my friend Patrick (who just sent me a note, ten years on); still have the photographs somewhere.
In the outside world, the last few days of the British election campaign were unfolding with Labour certain of a storming victory. Horrible massacres were happening in Algeria. R Kelly was at #1 in the UK with “I Believe I Can Fly“, and #1 in the US was “Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down” by Puff Daddy featuring Ma$e.
My fortieth birthday is today. More later. Perhaps.
18) Blindness, by José Saramago
Back to Nobel prize winners rather than sf for a change. Blindness is the story of a city where everyone starts going blind. But it is very different from Day of the TriffidsUnSuggestions for this book:
- Basics of biblical Greek: grammar by William D. Mounce
- Tris’s book by Tamora Pierce
- Daja’s book by Tamora Pierce
…for the first person to report a spam email purporting to come from the relatives of the late Boris Yeltsin and soliciting the recipient’s assistance in disposing of a large sum of money, in return for full details of, and access to, said recipient’s bank account.
If you want me to ask you about your interests and icons, comment here and I will. Also, feel free to ask me about any of mine.
The Vzintga Gorge was cut between precipitous cliffs by the powerful River Vzintga, which flows down numerous pools and waterfalls. There is a marked trail to the top of the gorge where the views are quite outstanding. Sadly, the spectacular cable-car that once carried visitors across the gorge no longer operates, but you can still see the old pylons and engine-house as well as view a memorial plaque dedicated to the service’s last 20 passengers.
The unofficial capital of the Great Central Valley region, Jzerbo may not look all that inviting to the first-time visitor, with its jumble of grim Soviet-era housing and concentration of heavy industry. But thanks to frequent, heavy smog, many of these visual eye-sores remain hidden from the average visitor.
This is of course a cut down version of the famous Pink Floyd poster advertising the six best-known albums (variously referred to as the “Pink Floyd girls” or the “back catalogue”). Left to right: Atom Heart Mother, Relics, The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You were Here, The Wall, and Animals. I’m a man of unexciting musical tastes, so the three covers in my icon are the three albums I like most (ie The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You were Here, and The Wall).
I find the image very sexy, and use it to illustrate my occasional entries on topics relating to sex and sexuality. I would love to know more about its origins, though recent investigations have yet to bear fruit.
These are a delicacy from the former Soviet republic of Georgia, whose cuisine I have come to love over the last few years while I was professionally engaged there. No longer as much involved professionally, but still very very interested in the cooking.
Khinkali are a sort of stuffed dumpling, mince (or, for non-carnivores, cheese) inside a pastry package, lightly boiled and served with ground pepper. Yummy.
This is of the Gettysburg Address as reproduced in the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC, and the words highlighted are from the last sentence:
“that we here highly resolve that
these dead shall not have died in
vain, that this nation under God
shall have a new birth of freedom,
and that government of the people,
by the people, for the people shall
not perish from the earth. “
Lincoln is a great political figure, and the Gettysburg Address one of the great speeches of all time, and the Lincoln Memorial one of the great monuments of the world. However, I haven’t yet thought of a good use for the icon.
So I hope you feel better informed now.
OK, I’ve just finished reading this year’s Hugo nominees in the fiction categories, earlier in the year than I can remember managing it before, even though this was one year when I had read precisely none of the nominees before I saw the shortlist.
Now to write them up…
The social context of science in Ireland between 1890 and 1930 is examined against the social and political background of the time, which included the rise of Irish cultural nationalism, the troubled period of 1916-1923, and the granting of independence to most of the island in 1922. In particular, scientists are divided into three groups who reacted to and were affected by the events of the day in different ways.
Many Ascendancy scientists (including those based at Trinity College, Dublin; the Royal Dublin Society; the Royal Irish Academy; and many with private incomes, in particular astronomers) had practised science as a cultural rather than a practical activity, and some actively sought to exclude Catholics from positions of influence within the Irish scientific community. The social and political reforms of the period affected the financial ability of Ascendancy scientists and their institutions to carry out much scientific work, and after 1922 they were faced with a political settlement that many of them had opposed.
The State’s scientific employees were seldom of Irish origin but nonetheless took part in the discourse of Irish nationalism; their institutions were mostly of Irish foundation, taken over by the government in London during the 19th century, and returned to Irish administrative control in 1900. Although they were more inclined to make the most of the 1922 settlement, government spending and thus scientific activity declined after independence.
Scientists from a Nationalist or Catholic background had faced discrimination during the nineteenth century from their Protestant fellow-countrymen. There is little evidence to suggest that the Catholic church ever actively discouraged the practice of science in Ireland, and some to suggest that leading Irish nationalists positively favoured scientific activity as a tool of nation-building.
Extract 1 (astronomers):
The group of Irish astronomers who became active in the 1820s — Thomas Romney Robinson, Edward Cooper, the third Earl of Rosse and William Rowan Hamilton — had a common Ascendancy background. However they did not have identical political outlooks. Cooper and Rosse were both MPs during the 1830s, but sat on opposite sides of the House; while Rosse was a Whig, Cooper and Robinson were Tories, as was Hamilton when he turned his mind to such mundane matters. Michael Hoskin has shown that while Rosse was relatively cautious about claiming new discoveries made with the Leviathan, Robinson could barely be restrained from proclaiming the great Birr telescope’s success at rendering visible the component stars of various nebulæ as a triumph of the Irish national genius against the (liberal) nebular hypothesis.
[Norman] McMillan portrays the decline of the ‘Network’ as the result of the breaking down of a political consensus (whose existence is doubtful) among Ascendancy scientists into a ‘bitter internecine struggle’, with ‘a group of “Home Rulers” in the Royal Irish Academy’, including the Trinity Fellows J.A. Galbraith and Samuel Haughton, becoming estranged from their colleagues in the Unionist camp led by George Johnstone Stoney. He claims that, under pressure from Stoney, the fourth Earl of Rosse ‘abandoned his family’s long-held nationalist politics and moved into the Unionist camp’. He may be drawing from Webb and McDowell, who say of the fourth Earl around 1900 that ‘the events of the past twenty years had made him desert the liberal traditions of his family for a pessimistic and disillusioned Toryism’.
But the Parsons family’s aristocratic Whiggery cannot possibly be described as ‘nationalist’. As a young MP, the third Earl supported Catholic Emancipation and the Maynooth grant, and was a late convert to Reform; but he also wrote a pamphlet and spoke in Parliament opposing the repeal of the Corn Laws, and there is no evidence to suggest that he had any sympathy for O’Connell’s Repeal movement or for the Young Irelanders. Another pamphlet, written in the midst of the Famine, lumps together new-fangled political economists with the ‘profoundly ignorant’ opponents of Newtonian philosophy. Certainly by the time he had graduated to the House of Lords (as an Irish representative peer) he was to be found supporting the Irish policies of Peel’s Tory administration, although he favoured closer government supervision rather than local control of the state’s faltering efforts at famine relief. As for the fourth Earl, Webb and McDowell imply that his political conversion was a result of disenchantment with Balfourian Unionism and the weakening of the Ascendancy in the 1880s and 1890s, rather than moral pressure from Stoney in the 1870s. Rosse would not have been alone in this; the impact of ‘constructive Unionism’ on Unionist voters in Dublin was so negative that both their parliamentary seats were lost in the 1900 general election.
Extract 2 (museums)
It is interesting to compare the experience of the Dublin museum with the case-studies of natural history museums in Christchurch, Melbourne, Montreal, Buenos Aires and La Plata described by Susan Sheets-Pyenson. She points to a general world-wide growth in interest in (and building of) museums up to 1890 (the year that the new Dublin buildings were opened), followed by a period of precarious funding in the era of increasing local autonomy and an eventual shift to a programme of local studies rather than international collecting. The Dublin museum’s funding and staff levels remained secure up to the change in the political situation in 1922; but Scharff was conscious of the political advantages to be gained for the museum as Irish autonomy became more and more likely. As we shall see, he was prepared to challenge other scientists on those grounds.
Sheets-Pyenson also notes that support staff in colonial museums tended to be either graduates, imported from the metropolis, or local unqualiﬁed recruits, often from the lower social classes, who might well eventually achieve relatively senior rank despite their humble beginnings. In this context it is remarkable that only a minority of the Natural History Museum’s staff (Halbert and the two women, Stephens and Knowles) were born in Ireland, and that they tended to start (and in the women’s cases to remain) at a lower level than their better-educated English colleagues. Sufﬁciently qualiﬁed Irish recruits were scarce; Robert Lloyd Praeger, perhaps the most outstanding amateur of his age in Ireland, remarked ﬁfty years later that his failure to get the job which went to Carpenter after a competitive examination in 1888 was due to ‘inadequate time for reading, and a disbelief in examinations — which I still hold’. Praeger eventually used the security of a career with the National Library, on the far side of Leinster House, to support a passionate interest in natural history which enabled him to set the agenda for his professional colleagues.
Extract 3 (nationalism and science)
Another element in the scholarly consensus about the lack of science in Catholic Ireland has been the suggestion that Irish Nationalists generally were too much taken up with the ‘national struggle’ or with the revival of Gaelic culture to be interested in scientiﬁc activities. There can be no doubt that the Irish cultural revival, and the Gaelic League in particular, did indeed appeal to the growing Catholic urban middle class in the decade or so after its foundation in 1893. Tom Garvin has said of the period that ‘the cultural atmosphere in which the new leaders [of the 1920s] had grown up was suffused with a nationalist and anti-modernist romanticism’ , and John Wilson Foster has argued that the internationalism of science made it incompatible with nationalist political activity.
Here it will be argued that this difference of outlook was not, and need not have been, a fundamental incompatibility, and that in fact the perceived hostility of Irish nationalists to science is to a certain extent a misinterpretation. It is important to understand the shifts in Nationalist thinking over time. Around the end of the nineteenth century, a number of Nationalists were very interested in scientiﬁc matters; the interaction of the cultural revival with science should not be simply characterised as the vampiric relationship which some writers seem to favour. The undeniable decrease in enthusiasm for state funding of science after independence is probably to be better understood as yet another facet of a general reluctance on the part of the new government to part with taxpayers’ money for any purpose not perceived as essential.
The Irish Nationalist party under the leadership of Charles Stewart Parnell was as inﬂuenced by the Victorian industrialising milieu as any other group in nineteenth-century Britain. Parnell himself was an amateur mineralogist in his spare time; this interest may have originated from his efforts to make his estate at Avondale, Co. Wicklow proﬁtable, but he went to the lengths of equipping his lover’s house at Eltham with a small furnace so that he could carry out his own tests. For vivid scientiﬁc imagery at the heart of Irish politics, it is difﬁcult to better Tim Healy, during the December 1890 meeting in Committee Room 15 which sealed Parnell’s fate, comparing the disgraced leader’s personal magnetism to that produced by an iron bar in an electrical coil: ‘This party was that electrical coil. There [indicating Parnell] stood the iron bar. The electricity is gone, and the magnetism with it, when our support has passed away.’
The ol’ digital camera is giving me grief. Specifically, I am getting the “low battery warning” and consequent shut down as soon as I put new batteries into it. It wasn’t such a battery hog when I first bought it (though still went through them pretty fast); but this is not supportable.
Is it worth buying rechargable NiMH batteries and trying them out? On the plus side, I get the impression from various websites that they are much better in digital cameras than standard alkaline batteries (which I’ve been using so far). Also I suppose they are better for the environment if I keep on using them. On the downside, if the camera is basically broken (which is a concern, given that it didn’t always have this problem so badly) perhaps I would just be throwing good monety after bad?
Advice gratefully received. (Especially from
17) Narn I Chîn Húrin: the Tale of the Children of Húrin, by J.R.R. Tolkien
It is clear to most readers of The Silmarillion (and those who then go on to The Book of Unfinished Tales) that the strongest part of the story is the tale of tragic hero Túrin Turambar, cursed to achieve glorious deeds in battle and yet disastrous in his private life and his effect on those around him. But the Silmarillion account is too brief, and the Unfinished Tales version has large gaps in it.
Christopher Tolkien (now older than his father lived to be) has pulled together the various versions of his father’s tale of families and war, and made something really special out of it. I have read both previous versions, and of course the Beowulf and Kalevala texts which inspired some of it, and I still couldn’t put it down. Alan Lee’s beautiful illustrations don’t do any harm either. (Though I was slightly frustrated that the promised map of Beleriand doesn’t appear.) (Edited to add: Oh yes it does;
Those who have only read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit may be a bit confused by the setting, as Beleriand has of course sunk below the waves millennia before Bilbo Baggins left Bag End; unfortunately Christopher Tolkien’s introduction to expain all this is rather tough going, more so than the main text itself. On the other hand, his appendix explaining how and why he compiled the story from his father’s manuscripts as he did (for three different publications, differently each time) was surprisingly interesting.
There’s lots to pull out from the text for those so inclined: it further illustrates what Tom Shippey has written about Tolkien and war and honour, but it’s also the only major Tolkien work I can think of where family relationships play a crucial role in the plot. Strongly recommended.
Reviewed for Internationale Politik here.
16) 800 Years of Women’s Letters, edited by Olga Kenyon
Bounced right off this, I’m afraid.
Though I did like the nod to the scene on the Empire State Building in The Chase. (Steve Lyons picks up on this also in Salvation, where Steven “remembered standing on its observation deck, in what seemed like another lifetime”.)
Not convinced by the Daleks though. As
This is the official Season 8 of Buffy, as officially sanctioned – indeed, written – by Joss Whedon, and published in comic form. Two of a projected twenty “episodes” have been published so far; I went and got them from the local comic shop this morning.
First off, the art itself: Perhaps I was spoiled by reading the likes of the Alan Moore strips in the Doctor Who magazine, where he caught Tom Baker’s Doctor almost better than Baker himself did, but I like my comics characters to look like the people they are meant to represent. Most crucially, I don’t think Georges Jeanty as chief penciller has captured Buffy particularly well, nor does the first of Jo Chen’s two covers particularly resemble Buffy as played by SMG. (The second is better.) Andrew and Giles are too young (Andrew practically prepubescent); Xander is caught reasonably well though, as is Willow in the one glimpse we get of her. Dawn is not bad either, though has been physically transmogrified for plot purposes.
Ah, the plot. We seem to have i) Xander, Buffy and the wannabe slayerettes of Season 7 based in a high-tech castle in Scotland, overseeing the world struggle against vampires; and ii) the US military allying with the forces of evil (well, one character from established continuity anyway) out of a combination of ignorance and (it is strongly hinted) malice. I don’t mind the latter, which of course is the latest version of a recurrent theme in Whedon’s work, but the former seems to me out of whack; the whole charm of Buffy is that these people are saving the world with meagre resources from somewhere that looks like your front room, not from a control centre out of a James Bond film.
But what I really miss is the snappy dialogue which made Buffy, Angel and Frirely such a joy to watch. Maybe it’s just more difficult ot carry through to the page; maybe Whedon will find his swing in later issues; but I had no laugh-out-loud moments in the first two episodes and not a lot of smiles either. (The one thing that did make me laugh out loud this morning was Peter Weston’s explanation of why he sent me his latest issue of Prolapse.) I think that I will buy the rest of the series anyway, in hope that it improves, but if it doesn’t I’ll just flog the lot on eBay once I’ve finished with them.
15) A Short History of Nearly Everything, by Bill Bryson
As a lapsed scientist myself, not a huge amount of this book was new to me, but I can see why it is popular with people who have never had to crack open a science textbook since leaving school, or even with some who have. Bryson’s chatty style, which hasn’t always worked for me, carries us fairly effortlessly through the fundamentals of physics, geology and evolutionary biology, with a decent amount of reflection on the men and women behind the scientific theories (though without going very far into the sociology of knowledge).
Two things really jumped out at me, both of which I was vaguely aware of but which Bryson really brought to life: 1) the imminent and catastophic eruption of the Yellowstone caldera, which will wipe out a significantly large chunk of the continental United States; and 2) the catastrophic impact of human fishing on the fauna of our oceans. Definitely losing sleep about both of those now.
Three more Doctor Who audios from Big Finish.
While none of you (as far as I know) has actually applied for the internship in my office, a number of you expressed interest in this general line of work. You might like to know that there is a site called eurobrussels.com which is the key place for advertising jobs in European affairs generally. I’ve also advertised this particular position on w4mp.org which seems to be a similar clearing house for Westminster. I’ve also been contacted by a site called Electus Start which seems to be in the same game.
I do recommend that anyone who wants to dip their toe in this particular water consider signing up as an election observer, which basically requires proven interest in politics and international affairs and willingness to do it. (Just to review how you actually apply to be an election observer, US citizens go here, UK citizens here, Canadians here, Dutch citizens here, Belgians hier and ici. Irish opportunities are listed here.)
14) [Doctor Who:] Made of Steel, by Terrance Dicks
Yes, Terrance Dicks is still out there, still writing Doctor Who novels; this is in the BBC’s £1.99 “quick reads” series, picked up in Forbidden Planet last week. The Doctor and Martha get mixed up with a remnant cell of Cybermen (incidentally answering the question my wife asked me after we watched “Doomsday”) and also deal with thick and uncomprehending military types. Dicks makes a valiant effort to catch the Tenth Doctor’s character, and on the whole succeeds, with only a few passages which I thought too reminiscent of the Third Doctor of Dicks’ novelisations. A decent quick read.
13) Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn
Flynn’s The Wreck of the River of Stars was one of the best sf books I read last year, and I had high expectations of this Hugo nominee: a story of aliens landing in 14th century Germany, and the contemporary historian (and his physicist girlfriend) who works out what happened way back then. Flynn puts a lot of effort into creating a believable 14th-century world, with a relatively harmonious relationship between religion and science depicted; some of the best passages are where the central character (the village priest) and the aliens try to make sense of each others’ world-views in terms of their own. He has tried hard also (not always successfully) to catch the linguistic flavour of the period. I didn’t enjoy Eifelheim quite as much as River of Stars, though; I felt that Flynn’s occasional expositions of his characters’ motivations didn’t work so well here, and I found the shift from omniscient narrator to tight first-person at the end a bit jarring.