Book Review: Doctor Who: Lucifer Rising (Andy Lane & Jim Mortimore)

In the mid-22^nd century, the Doctor, Ace and Bernice Summerfield travel to Project Eden, a human expedition to find valuable minerals on the planet Lucifer. There are also rumours of “Angels” on the planet, which some among the crew wish to make contact with. When crewmembers start being murdered one by one, the Doctor's investigations lead to a horrific plan for the planet, one which Ace may be mixed up in . . .

From that plot summary, Lucifer Rising may sound like a very traditional Doctor Who story, but it proves so much more than a murder mystery on another planet. This is a story that could never have existed on TV (and even as a film it might have suffered) and shows exactly what a Doctor Who book series can do.

The Seventh Doctor is captured very well here, especially in his darker, brooding moments. Unsurprisingly, he's already ahead of the game when he arrives. Lane and Mortimore succeed in keeping him and his motives a mystery from the reader, even when chunks of the story are told from his perspective. He also gets some comedic moments in there, which alleviate the story's dark tone without feeling forced. Other, broader aspects of the Doctor are also captured well here. We see curiosity at a new environment, a dim view of authoritarians, compassion for the misguided, and moral outrage at the destruction of a whole planet for personal gain.

There is one moment which might strike some people as quite out-of-character though, which is when the Doctor shoots the main villain at point blank range. It's a pretty bald defiance of the character's usual distaste for violence, but personally, I felt it was handled appropriately. In fact, I think it worked especially well for this Doctor. The Seventh Doctor had a habit of goading villains into destroying themselves while keeping up a facade of moral righteousness; here the Doctor's hypocrisy is challenged and he realises that if he's willing to manipulate Davros into blowing up Skaro, he may as well call a spade a spade and do the deed himself. All in all, the authors have done a fine job of capturing the Doctor here.

Then there's Ace, who's a bit trickier given how she's changed so much from her TV persona. There are a lot of references to her history with the Doctor, where she got fed up of being used by him for his moral crusades, but they add to the character and don't come off as fanwank. Anyone reading this who's never seen on Ace on TV shouldn't have much trouble getting a handle on her character.

Lane and Mortimore show how Ace has become more militant since leaving the Doctor; she's better able to give orders, keep a cool head in a bad situation, and switch sides to preserve her own life. I feared she would come off a bit angsty and too morose to be likeable and interesting, but I felt the balance was struck just right. We do get a bit of insight into how she's fared in the interim between Love and War and Deceit, with an especially effective anecdote about meeting the Daleks again. It's only a short scene, but it still says a lot about Ace's mindset, the universe of the story, and the relationship between her and Bernice.

And then there's Bernice Summerfield, who's in the unenviable position of getting stuck between the Doctor and Ace. Between the former's shadowiness and latter's bitterness, it is nice to have one character who just likes to travel for the sake of fun and discovery. There's a nice bit where Bernice explores the moon Moloch and notes its bizarre wildlife. The emphasis on discovery harkens back to Doctor Who's roots, when it was more about exploring an unknown universe than sustaining years of mythology. We also get some tense moments between Bernice and the Project Eden team, which also tie in with an old Doctor Who staple, showing how the companions deal with the people they meet. With the Doctor and Ace on one side, and Bernice on the other, two important aspects of the show are covered nicely here.

Then we come to the guest characters, and this I feel is where the momentum slows down a bit. I have several issues with the characters here, one of which there seem to be too many of them. The book is packed with them, and most don't seem to have any attributes aside from their names. There are glimpses of interesting stories here, but the competition for space means none of them feel quite as developed as they should have been.

One character, Alex Bannen, starts off as a smug scientist who cares more about material gain from Lucifer and not the deeper significance. We then find out about his tragic past, which gives him more depth and the promise of better development. And then . . . he kind of disappears from the book, only to reappear towards the end.

Then there's Adjudicator Bishop, who's introduced as a narrow-minded bureaucratic who's obsessed with paperwork and (of course!) suspicious of the Doctor. Then somewhere along the way, he morphs into a pulp action hero who gives speeches about truth and justice, which he administers with his gun. I'm sorry, but where the hell did this come from?

This technique of hinting at characters' motivations without showing them outright works for the TARDIS crew, since the series will be following them and the authors know they can take their time with them. But for the one-off characters, the ones whose stories are meant to be wrapped up in one book, it just feels like a waste. I'm not saying Lane and Mortimore can't create interesting characters – I would have loved to have seen Alex, Bishop and Christine all get their own stories. It's just a shame that they get so squashed against each other that we don't get to know them as much as we should have done.

Another annoying habit, which is especially clear in the early stages, is that the introductions are very clumsy. The introductory scene is one of the worst cases of telling and not showing I've seen in a long time. It crops up at other points as well – Bishop's past is unknown until we get a handy paragraph explained to us. Again, this feels more like a pitch for a fascinating character than a proper story for one.

And then there's the really confusing choice to skip over their introductions to the Doctor and his companions. For some reason, Lane and Mortimore skip this part – I actually forget if the crew's memories were modified to make them accept the time travellers or not, and the book is so dense I didn't feel like going back to check – and so, it made it hard for me to engage with the story early on. This kind of tricksiness when it comes to plotting makes me suspicious, or maybe I'm just sick of it being pulled by Steven Moffat so much. Either way, I couldn't quite understand the reason for it.

Now we come to the science fiction part, which is where I feel the book really excels. Legion is probably one of the weirdest beings ever created for the Doctor Who universe. You'd have to read the book to see why as I couldn't explain it here, but all I can say is that this could never have worked on TV at the time. It shows how far Lane and Mortimer have taken the print format and run with it. I also loved how Legion explains itself using a mundane analogy of a pond, as it reminded me of the Fourth Doctor explaining transdimensionalism to Leela using boxes.

We also get some pretty inventive death scenes towards the end, which I also won't bother trying to put into words here. All I'll say is this is certainly not a book for the squeamish. At this point, the story becomes pure Lovecraftian horror of a sort that some people will surely love, but might turn others off. I admit I enjoyed reading it at first, but I felt like this section dragged out for too long. Going back to the character issues, some are introduced just so they can get killed off, which struck me as a bit of a callous move. This is one part of the book that I'd say was gratuitous.

In keeping with the spirit of the Seventh Doctor's era, the book also contains some heavy-handed ecological and anti-capitalist themes. Lines like “the rape of Lucifer” will likely discourage some people by their sheer blatantness. Personally, I'd say it was warranted, given how these issues are even more relevant today. The depiction of a future world that's overpopulated and polluted certainly clashes with the upbeat philosophy we're used to seeing in Doctor Who. But Doctor Who at its best has never been one to shy away from harsh truths, and so I feel the metaphors work to the book's advantage.

Lucifer Rising is by no means a perfect book, as I've said. It's characterisation is often clumsy, the plot can drag a little and it could have been cut down a bit. Its tone is dark throughout with only a few spots of fun, which certainly won't be to everyone's taste. But if you want to see the Doctor Who formula taken to its full potential, I would highly recommend it.

Book Review - Moon Over Soho (Ben Aaronovitch)

Moon Over Soho is the second in Ben Aaronovitch's Rivers of London series, which follows Met DC Peter Grant as he investigates the supernatural underbelly of his native city. This installment opens with Peter looking into a strange pattern of deaths – jazz artists who keep dropping dead of seemingly natural causes, and all around the area of Soho. The trail only gets stranger and more disturbing from there, and Peter discovers that the truth lies in his own past, and the past of the city.

There's a lot to love about this book, but its narrator has to be number one. Peter is a wonderfully engaging lead, both an impulsive young maverick and a somewhat aged cynic. His sardonic view of the world and the force he works for brings a lot of levity to the story. His conversational tone gives him a chance to go off on tangents, but Aaronovitch never lets this slow the story down. Instead, it makes the reader more intimate with Peter as he shares his thoughts with them, as if talking to them in the pub.

Peter's somewhat flippant tone also provides a curious lense through which we see his personal life. The story opens with him going to see a friend and colleague, Lesley May, who was badly scarred due to events in the last book, to the point that she doesn't show her face and communicates with a keyboard. It's a pretty grim start to the book, but Peter never lets this get him down. Indeed, this could be seen as one of Peter's flaws; he hints several times that he's afraid of what he'll see when Lesley shows him her face. Being a young man, Peter's not one to go on and on about his feelings, but Aaronovitch gives us just enough of a glimpse to show Peter's vulnerability without wallowing in melodrama.

He uses a similar approach when writing about Peter's homelife. The reader gets an indication that Peter had a less than happy childhood, with a short-tempered mother and an aloof father who spent most of his time working on his music. Aaronovitch never spells this out for us, but there does seem to be some vague rift between Peter and his parents, which could explain why Peter has such an independent spirit.

For instance, jazz is a huge part of the story, and Peter knows so much about it because of how much his dad listened to it and played it, yet Peter admits that he doesn't even like jazz that much. He says this to the reader, but not his father, as if he doesn't confide in him that much. Peter may not be the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but I get the feeling like Aaronovitch is dropping hints for a character arc that will explore this in greater detail.

Other characters are treated similarly, particularly DCI Thomas Nightingale, Peter's mentor in magic, and superior officer in the supernatural branch of the Met known as “The Folly”. We get a few hints about Nightingale's past, like his boarding school days with other wizards, and his time during the Second World War. I liked the contrast between the cool, composed figure that Peter knows and the more powerful younger soldier who blew up a Tiger Tank.

For all this, we get the sense of tragic quality to Nightingale's character. For instance, he and Peter visit his old school at one point, where Peter finds an enormous memorial his mentor carved by hand to commemorate the wizards who fell in the War. There's also the fact that, despite his powers and intelligence, Nightingale spends most of his time shut up at home with only his silent maid, Molly, for company. As he says at one point, “while I lived here with Molly, the world continued on without me” (P. 218)

The theme of life wrecked by the cataclysm of the War is returned to throughout the story. The wizarding community was rapidly depleted, leaving the survivors cut off and unaware of each other's existence. This allows a sinister black magician to go on operating for years without Nightingale being aware of it. This is an interesting contrast to other fantasy series like Harry Potter, where the magical communities, though in hiding, are extensive and interconnected. Here, they're cut off and scattered, reflecting the devastating effect the War had on people across the world. The London Blitz also becomes a major plot point, and is used to show how disaster can transform people into monsters, sometimes in unexpected ways.

If the wizarding community is fractured, the city of London is buzzing with life, and Aaronovitch never misses a chance to show off the depth of his knowledge of the place. Peter wryly observes the architecture and people of the city, and sometimes diverts into little anecdotes about its history. These parts of the book will obviously appeal more to people who know London well. I sometimes found it a bit hard to relate to, especially when it came to placenames and geography, but I appreciated the personal touch all the same. Aaronovitch once said he'd only be seperated from London when it was prized from his cold, dead fingers, and that devotion is as much a cornerstone of this book as its characters.

His characterisation of the Met is also interesting; while many urban fantasy books have the hero try to keep their supernatural dealings a secret, Peter works for an institution that knows all about his line of work. In a diplomatic “See no evil, hear no evil” arrangement, the powers-that-be tolerate the Folly's presence so long as it doesn't impinge on other areas of the Met or reveal itself to the public. However, it also means the Folly receives no funding so as to avoid a paper trail, meaning Peter and Nightingale are brought in to investigate the unusual cases while receiving little credit for it in return. It plays in well with the cynical tone of the books and also gives Peter another shaky relationship with authority.

In a similar vein is the testy relationship between the gods of the River Thames, with Peter stuck in the middle. The gods don't get as much focus as they did in the last book, but it's clear that this is an arrangement that could get Peter in serious trouble further down the line. The sinister and manipulative Lady Tyburn makes a few appearances, casting a shadow over proceedings and setting the stage for further clashes with the Folly.

Another character of interest is Simone Fitzwilliam, former lover of Peter's first victim. She's introduced as a typical dettached ice maiden, and her effect on Peter has the sort of effect you'd expect from their first meeting. While I found parts of this subplot a bit predictable (Spoiler: They end up fucking), there were other parts that I didn't see coming. Not only was I glad of that, I felt the way this plot progressed tied very well into some of the book's other themes, while also making Peter a more vulnerable and relatable protagonist as a result. It also sets up another arc, with another enigmatic villain.

While the tone of the book is often slow in keeping with the arduousness of a police investigation, the action is also well-handled when it occurs. Whether its to do with commandeering an ambulance or chasing a suspect, Aaronovitch does a good job of balancing tension with dry wit. There are also a few inclusions of gore which take the book down a much darker and more disturbing path.

In conclusion, I'd say Moon Over Soho leans heavier on the criminal side than the fantastical. Overall, it feels more like a gritty modern thriller with the supernatural sometimes dropping in, rather than an equal blending of the two genres. That's not to say that fans of the latter genre should be put off – even if crime isn't your usual cup of tea, I'd say this book is still fun and funny enough to win many people over.