The Happiness Patrol, by Mick Stack (and Graeme Curry)

Posted on 7 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

When I first watched this in 2007, I wrote:

The Happiness Patrol, from the dying days of 1988, is a fairly standard rebels against the system story, lifted by some fairly memorable characters and concepts – especially Sheila Hancock as the dictator, and her vicious pet Fifi. It comes close to looking convincing – the coherent style of the Happiness Patrol themselves is almost genius. I started off being quite impressed by how well the Candyman worked, but I had completely gone off him in the end, and the musician and the census official, while nice touches, didn’t quite seem to integrate into the whole thing. Not awful, but definitely not one of the great ones either.

When I came back a couple of years later for my Great Rewatch, I wrote:

Continuing along this theme of rehabilitation [after Remembrance of the Daleks], I found The Happiness Patrol an excellent piece of sinister dystopia, following on from Paradise Towers. The interaction between Helen A and her retainers and servitors is tremendously engaging, with Fifi one of the great non-speaking parts (like the dog in Two Gentlemen of Verona, only much more vicious); and one wonders why it came as a surprise to anyone to learn that it was a deliberate though not hugely accurate tilt at Thatcherism. Doctor Who does not do space opera terribly well, but this is not space opera, it is allegory played with bitter ironic comedy, and fits McCoy’s portrayal beautifully.

Watching it again I find myself somewhere in between. Great performances, but a lot of running around in circles in terms of plot, no real sense of how the various bits of city connect with each other, and people just standing around to be captured or executed. We’ve had more violent assaults on our willing suspension of disbelief in the Moffat and Chibnall and Davies years since, but it felt like the director was working more on the script than the audience perception.

The second paragraph of the third chapter of Graeme Curry’s novelisation of his own script is:

She could not believe her eyes – the TARDIS was pink. From the shadows of Forum Square they had a clear view of the Happiness Patrol carrying their pots of paint and putting the final touches to their work. Daisy K stood some distance from the others, overseeing the job.

When I first read it in 2008, I wrote:

I wasn’t overwhelmed by the original TV story, but Curry has produced a novelisation which is passionate and convinced – the rather odd plot holes remain, but liberated from cheap-looking special effects, it turns into rather a good yarn. Definitely one of those where the book is an improvement. Also an easy pass for the Bechdel test, with Helen A and her women warriors running around after Ace.

Nothing more to add. You can get it here. (Incidentally I tried tracking Bechdel passes and fails for all the fiction I read this year, but ran out of steam in June.)

Mike Stack’s Black Archive monograph on the story looks at its reception rather than its creation, which is fair enough given the changes in public notoriety the story has enjoyed. The first chapter, “Evaluation” looks at how poorly the story was rated by fans at the time and since, and asks “So, Is it Any Good?” He disarmingly admits its weaknesses: the padding of the plot, the unambitious design, the controversial Kandyman, the ambiguous postcolonial treatment of the Pipe People, Fifi; but comes back to the good performances.

The second and longest chapter, “Political Readings”, starts with the media flap in 2010 when several British newspapers discovered that the story had a critique of Thatcherism, and goes on to point out that spoofs of Thatcher were so universal on TV in 1988 that The Happiness Patrol easily slipped below the radar of contemporary critics. The real target, Stack argues convincingly, is authoritarianism of all kinds.

The third chapter, “Queer Readings”, addresses one of the other key points about the story. Its second paragraph, with the quote it introduces and its footnotes, is:

However, such bold statements are not universal or uncontested. In The Television Companion, Howe and Walker gave only a brief mention to the interpretation of gay themes, tentatively noting ‘some commentators have suggested that there is a gay rights message here’⁴. They do not take this observation further. Tat Wood, in About Time, went further:

‘While we’re debunking fan lore, the dispatched Andrew X (or Harold L, it hardly matters) isn’t wearing a pink triangle badge. Novelist / new series writer Matt Jones’ reading of the story as being explicitly and exclusively about gay rights misses the point, although none of his evidence (except the mention of the triangle badge) is actually invalid.’⁵

⁴ Howe and Walker, The Television Companion, p518.
⁵ Wood, About Time 6, p252.

The chapter points out that the story is actually very ambiguous in its use of queer / gay imagery. Pink is the colour of the oppressor here, not the liberator. The two main male villains escape together at the end – romantically, perhaps? On the other hand, the enforcement of happiness has echoes of the Section 28 debate of the 1980s (weirdly being played out again in attacks against trans people today). Personally I think that the ambiguity is itself rather successful.

The fourth chapter, “Happy Readings”, starts by citing the Easter 2011 sermon delivered by then Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, in which he mentioned the story in the context of the importance of happiness as a societal aim. (I met Lord Williams once, in passing, as I was heading to a meeting at the House of Lords and bumped into him at the entrance to Parliament.) Stack looks at the concept of happiness, and why Helen A is doomed not to find it. (Certainly she ain’t gettin’ much from Joseph C.)

A Coda comes back to the question of whether the story is any good. Admitting his own personal love for it, Stack concludes:

I leave myself open to the criticism that I have credited The Happiness Patrol with more intellectual clout than it deserves. However, what strikes me is the story more than holds its own when held up to scholarly scrutiny. It elegantly depicts totalitarianism, anticipates the reclaiming of the word ‘killjoy’, and provides a parable about the need to negotiate our emotions.

Again, the Black Archives have given me new appreciation for what a Doctor Who story I don’t especially love. You can get this one here.

Incidentally, the Seventh Doctor is proportionately by far the best represented in the Black Archive (apart from the special cases of the Eighth and Shalka Doctors). 64% of the Seventh Doctor’s episodes are covered in Black Archives as of late 2024; the closest of the rest is the Thirteenth with 46%. The gap is even bigger just counting stories: 7 of the 12 Seventh Doctor stories now have Black Archives, 58%, twice the score of the Fourth Doctor, with 12 out of 41, 29%.

(Since you asked, the end of the table has the Second Doctor, with only 13% of his episodes and 14% of his stories, though we have also yet to see any Black Archives covering either the Fourteenth or Fifteenth Doctors.)

Next: Midnight.

Return to Ramillies

Posted on 6 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

The Battle of Ramillies in 1706 was one of the biggest battles of the War of the Spanish Succession, also crucial for the future career of the Duke of Marlborough, and the cause of what is now Belgium switching from Spanish to Austrian rule. 62,000 troops of the Anglo-Austrian alliance inflicted s severe defeat on 60,000 French troops, a quarter of whom were killed. I have seen a claim that it was the largest cavalry battle in history. On a much more intimate level, the doctor treating one of the veteran British soldiers for injuries received at the battle realised that the patient had breasts; this was the famous Christian Davis, aka Mother Ross., who had joined the army disguised as a man many years before.

I visited the site of the Battle of Ramillies with B eight years ago, and had fun climbing the ancient tumulus from which the French commander directed his army.

But in 2016 I was unable to find any memorial of the actual battle in 1706. The memorial at the centre of the village of Ramillies is to a First World War skirmish, not to the much bigger fight of two centuries earlier.

However, dedicated Googling eventually found a small plaque, placed in 2006 beside a shrine to St Donatus way to the north of the battlefield. I have marked it on the below map (taken from Wikipedia, showing the order of battle at the beginning of the fighting) with a blue X. I’ve also marked the Hottomont tumulus, to the southwest, with a blue circle.

So I set off with B to find it today. It’s about 30 minutes’ drive from her home, and she likes car journeys. I was unable to persuade her to smile for the camera when we located it, but she gives a sense of scale.

The plaque, placed by local enthusiasts for the tercentenary of the battle, speaks for itself, though I do find the placement a bit odd; it’s at the junction of two minor, unnamed roads, some way from the most intense point of the fighting.

The chapel is in poor shape. It could date from anywhere between the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries, and the various heritage websites offer no clue. It is referred to in some sources as “la Chapelle des Quatre Tièges”, but I am unable to find a translation for “tiège” – it could perhaps be a dialect form meaning “tree trunk” from “tige”, which means “stem”. Within the chapel, St Donatus looks out cheerfully through a protective grille. (This is probably St Donatus of Münstereifel, who protects you against lightning and was a Roman soldier, hence the tunic.)

I also tried to find the nearby caves of Folx-les-Caves, which I visited in 2005; but they have been closed since 2019.

The best known books set in each country: South Africa

Posted on 6 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

See here for methodology.

Title	Author	Goodreads raters	LibraryThing owners
Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood	Trevor Noah	723,706	6,349
Disgrace	J.M. Coetzee	109,054	11,011
Cry, the Beloved Country	Alan Paton	75,975	9,603
Long Walk to Freedom	Nelson Mandela	88,752	4,980
The Power of One	Bryce Courtenay	90,350	4,752
Life & Times of Michael K	J.M. Coetzee	19,789	2,858
The Promise	Damon Galgut	44,804	1,146
The Covenant	James A. Michener	21,305	2,062

Trevor Noah has clearly made a big hit with Goodreads users, and somewhat less so with LibraryThing where his book is only third, behind two more traditional classics. There’s only one foreigner (Michener) on the list; unfortunately however it is an all-male list, with Doris Lessing’s The Grass is Singing just missing the cutoff.

I disqualified two other books – Waiting for the Barbarians, by J.M. Coetzee, which is set in an unnamed colonial outpost which doesn’t sound very much like South Africa, and The White Lioness by Henning Mankel, which is mainly set in Sweden.

Net up is Italy.

More on the widely sown seed of Benjamin Cleveland

Posted on 5 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

This is an update to my previous research on Benjamin Cleveland (1783-1853). He had eleven children with his wife Lydia nee Cooper, between 1805 and 1830; all but two survived to adulthood. However the DNA evidence fairly clearly indicates that he was also the biological father of my great-great-grandmother Sarah Smith, who was born in 1815; her legal father is recorded as a mysterious and largely absent Scot, embroiled in the misleadingly named War of 1812.

Through Benjamin Cleveland, I am related to my sixth cousin three times removed President Grover Cleveland, to my ninth cousin, sf writer Fritz Leiber, to Leiber’s third cousin, also my ninth cousin, Shirley Temple, and to my Worldcon colleague and seventh cousin twice removed Jesi Lipp. (NB there was a military Benjamin Cleveland, also born in 1783, who lived to 1858, five years longer than mine; but mine is a Yankee and the general was from Georgia.)

Poring through Ancestry.com on an insomniac night recently, I came across an interesting cluster of eight DNA connections who were linked to me and to other known descendants of Benjamin Cleveland. I found a family connection for all of them to Glens Falls, New York, and for seven of the eight I found a clear genealogical line of descent from a couple who I will identify here as John and Ophelia. Ophelia was born in 1840; John was born either in 1817 or 1820 – the documentation is unclear. One of my eight connections, F.W., is their great-granddaughter; five of them are great-great-grandchildren of John and Ophelia, including two daughters of F.W.; and one is the son of one of the great-great-grandchildren, making him the 3x great-grandson of John and Ophelia.

The eighth, C.P., caused me some head-scratching. He has researched a beautifully detailed family tree going back generations. However it seemed to me pretty clear that his mother was F.W.’s half-sister, born to a 17-year-old girl who then married her first husband (who is the person C.P. has in his tree as his grandfather) ten months later, but fathered by a grandson of John and Ophelia who later became F.W.’s father as well. C.P.’s DNA link to F.W. is that of half-nephew to half-aunt, which matches this theory exactly. His DNA links to F.W.’s daughters, N.K. and K.K., are also consistent with this hypothesis (half first cousins).

So the full family tree as I have reconstructed it is as follows:

(Click to embiggen; those on Ancestry.com are indicated with thicker box outlines, along with the strength of their DNA link to me)

The descendants of John and Ophelia listed here are:

C.P., provided that we believe my theory about his mother being the biological daughter of John and Olivia’s grandson C
F.W., definitely the great-granddaughter of John and Olivia, half-aunt to C.P.
N.K., daughter of F.W., half first cousin to C.P.
K.K., daughter of F.W. but with a different biological father so half-sister to N.K., also half-first cousin to C.P.
C.H., descended like the above four from the John and Olivia’s Son A, whose mother was F.W.’s first cousin and he is himself second cousin to C.P., N.K. and K.K.
D.W., descended from John and Olivia’s son B, second cousin once removed to F.W. and third cousin to C.P., N.K., K.K and C.H.
J.U., D.W.’s first cousin who therefore has the same relationships to the others mentioned above
G.T., J.U.’s son who is therefore first cousin once removed to D.W., second cousin twice removed to F.W. and third cousin once removed to all the rest.

If I am also descended from one of the parents of John or Ophelia, then F.W. is my half-third cousin once removed, G.T. is my half-fourth cousin once removed, and the other six are all my half-fourth cousins, ie we share a single 3x great-grandparent. My DNA connection to all of them is around 20 centimorgans, which is consistent with a relationship of around third/fourth cousin-ish. Significantly, we all also share connections with other descendants of Benjamin Cleveland.

I know that I am not descended from John or Ophelia, because all my recorded ancestors in America at that date are accounted for, and I have other DNA connections through all of them. (And also I would expect to see stronger DNA connections with John and Ophelia’s known descendants if I was also one of them.) On the other hand, I know that Benjamin Cleveland had at least one child out of wedlock, my great-great-grandmother Sarah Smith, born in 1815. So the likelihood is that either John or Ophelia was Benjamin’s extramarital child.

Both John and Ophelia came from the same village near Glens Falls. Benjamin Cleveland was living in Unadilla in the 1810s, over 200 km away across the state of New York, but if he was able to father Sarah Smith over in New Hampshire in 1815, a short excursion from Albany doesn’t seem unreasonable at the time of John’s conception in 1816 or 1819. By 1839 Benjamin had moved to Pennsylvania, a step in the westward trek that eventually took him to Wisconsin where he died in 1853. So it seems less likely that he was Ophelia’s father, since she was born only in mid-1840.

John’s mother, who rejoiced in the name Annis or Annice, was born in March 1797. She married Samuel, the man generally recorded as John’s father on 15 October 1820. John’s gravestone says that he died on 3 October 1889, aged (rather precisely) 68 years, 11 months and 26 days, giving a birth date of 8 October 1820. The 1880 federal census and the 1865 New York state census both give ages for him consistent with being born in late 1820. But there’s one crucial detail here – if Annis married Samuel on 15 October 1820, she can hardly have given birth to John the previous week! So the gravestone must be wrong.

The 1870 federal census gives John’s age in that year as 54, and the register of his Civil War service gives his birthday firmly as 8 October 1817. To me it’s pretty clear. The war service record is the one document that John is likeliest to have completed by himself, and it’s also the only one (apart from the gravestone, which we know cannot be right) that gives a precise date of birth. It was probably Ophelia who gave the census takers the information they wanted in 1865, 1870 and 1880, and also who gave instructions for the tombstone in 1883, and she may have been vague, perhaps deliberately so, about his precise age.

I am certain that John was born on 8 October 1817, three years before his mother Annis married Samuel; and that Benjamin Cleveland was his biological father. I still have no idea what business Benjamin was on, travelling so much around New York and New England, impregnating my married great-great-great-grandmother in 1814, and 19-year-old Annis in 1817. But the evidence of his active life runs in my veins, and in the veins of dozens of his living descendants.

Political, Electoral and Spatial Systems, by R. J. Johnston

Posted on 4 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

Second paragraph of third chapter (and the quote that it illustrates):

The pattern and character of local government must be such as to enable it to do four things: to perform efficiently a wide range of profoundly important tasks concerned with the safety, health and well-being, both material and cultural, of people in different localities; to attract and hold the interest of its citizens; to develop enough inherent strength to deal with national authorities in a valid partnership; and to adapt itself without disruption to the present unprecedented process of change in the way people live, work, move, shop and enjoy themselves (Royal Commission on Local Government in England, 1969a, p. 1).
This is a typical statement about the functions of local governments. Sharpe (1976), for example, recognizes three major functions for local governments. The first is the liberty function, with a strong local government system providing a division of power and responsibility and preventing the growth of a centralized autocracy. Secondly there is the participation function, with local government allowing individuals to participate in local democracy-often as a training-ground for later service in higher levels of government—and diffusing power amongst the populace. Finally, there is the efficient provision of services function. Certain services are local in scope, being concerned with local consumers only, and are best provided by local governments.

I had some very friendly correspondence with the late great Ron Johnston, professor of geography at Bristol, back in 2015-2016, culminating with him sending me an old paper of his, in which I spotted that he quoted from a document I had written twenty years earlier. Sadly he died in 2020, two months after his 79th birthday. (Though not from COVID, I understand.)

This is a basic undergraduate-level textbook looking at the politics of human geography, examining political systems in the UK and USA, getting deep into the weeds of why more government money is spent in some places than others, and the difficulties of designing good systems for the sharing of resources. I got it for the bits about electoral systems and gerrymandering, but I stayed for the wider analysis of the role of state and local governments in society. It’s all stuff that I more or less knew, but it was helpful to have it laid out like this. It would have been good to see some nods towards gender and geography, and some more countries than the USA and UK, but it is what it is. You can get it here.

I got this second hand (obviously) and, to my delight, I spotted that the previous owner is a retired Cambridge don who was a university official during my years in student politics. I have sent him a note but he hasn’t replied; he must be in his eighties by now.

This was the last of the stash of books acquired in 2016 that I had mislaid when I thought I had reached the end of that pile. Though I am still looking out for a couple that have not turned up yet.

Femina: A New History of the Middle Ages, Through the Women Written Out of It, by Janina Ramirez

Posted on 3 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Information emerges on a computer screen as lines and dots, but there are pieces missing. The DNA extracted from this tooth has spent more than a millennium in the ground, resulting in incomplete genome coverage.³ It doesn’t show the individual’s eye colour or provide information on their appearance. However, while the minute sequences of the DNA prove difficult to decipher, the chromosomes are clear. The team members search repeatedly, yet across every sample they find no evidence of a Y chromosome anywhere. Instead, there is a clear pattern of two X chromosomes.
³ Charlotte Hedenstierna-Jonson et al, ‘A Female Viking Warrior Confirmed by Genomics’, American Journal of Physical Anthropology, Vol. 164, No. 4 (2017), pp. 853-860.

A book asserting that there are lots of interesting stories to tell about the centrality of women in the Middle Ages, which basically is preaching to the converted as far as I am concerned. It starts however in 1913: Emily Davison, who was trampled to death by the King’s horse when her suffragette protest went wrong at the Derby, was a qualified and enthusiastic medievalist who saw the political empowerment of women as fully consistent with history.

Ramirez goes on to look at the Loftus Princess; Cyneðryð and Æðelflæd of Mercia; the Viking woman from Birka; Hildegard of Bingen; the women who made the Bayeux Tapestry; the women of the Cathars; Jadwiga of Poland; and Margery Kempe. It’s a solid piece of work which simultaneously rides the two horses of “these were remarkable individuals” and “women in general were much more important in the Middle Ages than you have probably been told”.

I didn’t know much about any of these particular cases, and had ever heard of some of the – and I’ve read quite a lot of medieval history in my time. So I felt enlightened and encouraged by the end of the book. You can get it here.

Edison’s Conquest of Mars, by Garrett P. Serviss

Posted on 2 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

Second paragraph of third chapter:

The crowd apparently hardly knew at first how to receive the Sultan of Turkey, but the universal good feeling was in his favor, and finally rounds of hand clapping and cheers greeted his progress along the splendid avenue.

This is a rollicking 1898 Edison fanfic sequel to The War of the Worlds, in which the nations of the earth, shocked by a Martian attack on New York, fund a retaliatory mission to Mars led by Thomas A. Edison and Lord Kelvin, with the author putting himself in first person in the middle of the fray. Edison has conveniently invented both a disintegration ray and an anti-gravity drive, so the large Earth expedition is ultimately successful despite tribulations along the way. (This is not a spoiler – the end of the story is given away by the title of the book.)

There’s an amusing fantasy diplomacy bit at the beginning with the rulers of the world converging on Washington and Queen Victoria dancing with President McKinley (she turned 79 that year). The cliches of space travel and war with other planets are explored here for the first time; the Martians are subhuman savages, with all that that implies; there is a beautiful human hostage, the last of her kind; and Thomas Edison wins the war, for humanity. (Apparently he was consulted about being made the hero of the book, and consented.)

The Project Gutenberg version is enlivened by the illustrations created by Bernard Manley, Jr, for the 1947 printing of the story. Manley lived to 91 and died as recently as 2012. You can get it from Project Gutenberg here.

Tuesday reading

Posted on 1 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

Current
The Lunar Men: The Friends Who Made the Future, by Jenny Uglow
Yes Taoiseach: Irish Politics From Behind Closed Doors, by Frank Dunlop
The Sapling: Branches, by Alex Paknadel et al
The Hanging Tree, by Ben Aaronovitch

Last books finished
The Lake at the End of the World, by Caroline MacDonald
Desdemona and the Deep, by C. S. E. Cooney
“They Will Dream in the Garden” by Gabriela Damián Miravete
Tom Clancy’s Net Force Explorers: Virtual Vandals, by Diane Duane

Next books
Burning Heart, by Dave Stone
New State, Modern Statesman: Hashim Thaçi – A Biography, by Suzy Jagger
Monica, by Daniel Clowes

The Spellcoats, by Diana Wynne Jones

Posted on 1 October 2024 by fromtheheartofeurope

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“The floor’s all wet,” he said.

Having enjoyed my return to Cart and Cwidder last year, I thought I should read the complete Dalemark cycle by Diana Wynne Jones. The Spellcoats was new to me; although the third published of the series, it’s the first in internal chronology, set in “prehistoric Dalemark” where the only written language is runes woven into garments – hence the “spellcoats” of the title.

It’s a different sort of society to most of DWJ’s books – a low-tech country coming into being, with indigenous inhabitants in conflict with newcomers, and evil men trying to take advantage of the situation, including through magic. Like a lot of DWJ’s stories, there is a long and transformational journey; like a lot of DWJ’s stories, there are siblings who have different talents and find different destinies. But there’s something attractively raw and pared-back about the setting here, along the banks of a primeval river, and there is a nice framework of telling the story as a woven rather than written text. Sorry it took me so long to get around to reading this. You can get it here.

This was the top unread book by a woman on my shelves. Next on that pile is The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck, but I’m also adding a small pile for the other two Dalemark books, Drowned Ammet and The Crown of Dalemark.

From the Heart of Europe

Books, politics, languages and life

Monthly Archives: October 2024

The Happiness Patrol, by Mick Stack (and Graeme Curry)

Return to Ramillies

The best known books set in each country: South Africa

More on the widely sown seed of Benjamin Cleveland

Political, Electoral and Spatial Systems, by R. J. Johnston

Femina: A New History of the Middle Ages, Through the Women Written Out of It, by Janina Ramirez

Edison’s Conquest of Mars, by Garrett P. Serviss

Tuesday reading

The Spellcoats, by Diana Wynne Jones