4th Doctor Book Review - Jonathan Morris's Festival of Death
Festival of Death by Jonathan Morris
Published by: BBC Books
Publication Date: September 4th, 2000
Format: Paperback, 320 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy
The Doctor has arrived at the G-Lock, a space station that is the result of a massive pile up two hundred years ago. The G-Lock has become a place of pilgrimage for those wishing to experience The Beautiful Death. The attraction doesn't just simulate what death and the veil beyond is like, but it quite literally kills you and then a short time later brings you back, that's if you're wanting to come back. Though the most recent death has gone horribly wrong turning almost all 218 participates into zombies controlled by some unknown force.
The Doctor and Romana arrive in the aftermath to find that everyone knows them and are heralding The Doctor as their saviour. Problem is, The Doctor's never been here before. Which means only one answer remains, in his future, the G-Lock's past, he comes here and saves everyone. Romana warns The Doctor that crossing their own time streams is very dangerous and they have to be careful not to change anything. If they are fated to die, well, they must face this fact, they can not mess about with time, something a time lord should know. Yet each journey into their past proves that they are inextricably linked to the G-Lock, and it's more then a little frustrating trying to find a time when they were unknown. If they are careful, then the G-Lock will be saved, but their own fates, well, that's another thing.
I'm sure every one of you has had a book that you just can't be bothered to pick up. You know that you just need to bite the bullet and power through, but somehow, you just can't. The longer you avoid the book, the easier it is to accept that you will never finish it. If you are like me, and reading is an integral part of you life, this one book then throws everything in your life out of whack. My moods and emotions are usually keyed into what I'm reading at the moment, if I like the book, life seems easier, if I don't... well, I'm a bit of a grump. This inability to finish yet unwillingness to pick up anything else is the worst situation a reader can face. It doesn't happen to me often. The worst case I suffered was back in August of 2008, the book was Breaking Dawn. While I'm not going to comment on this book by Stephenie Meyer here, that would require far more time and energy then I'm willing to spend on this book review, I will say that it took me an entire month to get through that book. Think of all the other books I could have been reading? While I never allowed Festival of Death that hold on my time, I will say that I begrudge it everything else I could have been reading and will forever hold it against it. Though, in the final analysis, this was the least of this books sins.
My issues with this book started on page one. I am never one to skip the intro, even if it might contain spoilers. I have attempted in recent years to read the intro after the books conclusion, but, well, the majority of these new Doctor Who intros are, how shall I put it, just reveling in the fact that their book was chosen. The first three books had something to offer, a little bit about their love of The Doctor and in particular, why they loved THIS Doctor... not so with Jonathan Morris. Jonathan Morris's intro seems more along the lines of us mere mortals should be privileged to read this glorious book he has written. While until this book he was a humble Eraser fan running the fan club (seriously, dude you really think this is an accomplishment?) then this glorious piece of writing was birthed by him, and, while he won't take all the credit for bringing the wibbly wobbly timey wimey to the Whoverse... oh, who am I kidding, he will take all the credit. He will view the complex time lines and the ability to loop back on your own life as his own amazing creation, forgetting, oh, almost a centuries worth of work that came before him. That Red Dwarf episode, "Future Echoes," the one from 1988, more then a decade before this book, well, forget that, this book totally didn't just rip it off, because, well, Jonathan Morris CREATED timey wimey! In fact, if we take his introduction to heart, using his own timey wimey, he must have created Doctor Who himself and every other time travelling show, literature, what have you, ever. Quantum Leap, totally his. Gaw, this author is so full of himself.
And here is the real snag in the book. Ego aside, the book is just a pastiche of all these other shows and books, that couldn't possibly be as original as Festival of Death because the author says so. I can't tell if it's his naivete as a new writer, or his immense ego that let's him just rip off other writers without a care in the world. These are not nods, these are blatant rip offs. The "reference" to Douglas Adams, ie, the depressed computer ERIC, well, let's just call him MARVIN and move on. I mean, seriously dude, this isn't cool. If you watch Doctor Who, you've read Adams at some point, and well, readers aren't going to let this slide. Adams was a genius, YOU ARE A HACK. The reason I mentioned Red Dwarf above, well, it's because one scene was almost lifted fully from that previously mentioned episode. A good author is able to incorporate other ideas and references into a solid narrative that is original while yet being referential... Jonathan Morris, the author I shall never read again, doesn't do this. The book isn't a cohesive whole, just a bunch of jokes and scenes lifted from other sources and precariously strung together. Here's all the "references" I was able to ferret out, and I'm sure it's by no means exhaustive: The Shining, Alien, Titanic, Lord of the Rings (in particular Gollum), Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (and yes, I did check release dates so that I am not wrong), and in the end, Being John Malkovich, in the weirdest "nod" yet. Seriously, couldn't the author try anything original? All he did was point out how bad his book was by "referencing" books/movies/whatever that I enjoyed far far more.
In the few rare instances that he tries to show some originality, it comes across as bad jokes or goes against the cannon of the show. The alien races that he encounters, I'm not talking about those little lizard people who are obviously out of the canon of Adams, but the Arboretans... could you think of a lamer name? I'm sorry, but plant based life that is kind of Fern Gully meets Doctor Who and you named them Arboretans? Do they live in the Arboretum near my house? Could you try to think of a non cringe worthy name? Like you're deja vu jokes that made me groan. Preja vu? The stupid running joke about The Doctor not having passed his test to fly the TARDIS. Or the fact that you actually killed The Doctor for thirty minutes and therefore destroyed some of the cannon, because, if he died, he would have regenerated, and well... HE DIDN'T! That is one of the glaring problems of this book. Because we know The Doctor saves the G-Lock, but in doing so he supposedly dies... well, we know he can't die, neither can Romana, because, well, that's not what happens to them, so there is no peril, no impetus to keep reading because we know what happens. I can say I finished the book, but I will never read this author again, I would rather have my brains smashed out by a slice of lemon, wrapped 'round a large gold brick.
After Dead: What Came Next in the World of Sookie Stackhouse by Charlaine Harris
Horde by Ann Aguirre
Last of the Gaderene by Mark Gatiss
Dreams of Empire by Justin Richards
The Casebook of Newbury and Hobbes Volume One by George Mann
Fallen Women by Sandra Dallas
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
The Mystery of Meerkat Hill by Alexander McCall Smith
Allegiant by Veronica Roth
Eragon by Christopher Paolini
Ten Little Aliens by Stephen Cole
So, earlier, when introducing this three month themed extravaganza I mentioned "The Doctor Who Reading Challenge," and then told you you'd have to wait for an explanation. Well now is the time for said explanation. For us bibliophiles, what better way is there to celebrate Doctor Who then to read lots and lots of Doctor Who books? In fact, the written and audio books should be lauded as what kept the show alive during the years it was dark. We got new stories from new authors, some of which went on to then write on the show! Mark Gatiss anyone? So yeah books and yeah Doctor Who!
How To Be a Good Wife by Emma J. Chapman
Mad About the Boy by Helen Fielding
Behind the Shattered Glass by Tasha Alexander
Just One Evil Act by Elizabeth George
Copperhead by Tina Connolly
So who is my Doctor (the above picture should give you a clue)? If you aren't familiar with this idea, here's how it goes. Everyone has THEIR Doctor. This is The Doctor that made them a Whovian. The one who made Doctor Who an integral part of their lives. He is the first Doctor you think of when someone mentions Doctor Who. He might not even necessarily be your favorite Doctor, but you know that he is what defines the show for you. He is YOUR Doctor. For me, this is a concept that I have struggled with. Not because I didn't grasp it, but because I kind of wanted David Tennant or Matt Smith to be My Doctor. Until Matt Smith came around, I would have said that David Tennant was hands down my favorite Doctor, but there's something about Matt Smith, his raw acting ability, the fact that he can rise above sub-par writing and being labored with crappy companions to be this luminous, amazing Doctor makes me want to go, "There, that's him, there's My Doctor." Yet I know this would be a lie. I would just be tricking myself into what I wanted while all the while Tom Baker is My Doctor.
I seriously don't know why or how I knew Doctor Who was returning. At this time I didn't really use the internet for much, other then to do homework (see, I can't escape school now that it's sucked me back in, and in fact this fall is the first time since 2006 I haven't had classes) and to play online games with my friends. But there, in the back of my mind, I knew that there was a new series and that, well, obviously, I had to see it. The one thing I did know, from my various British addictions, was you could be sure, whenever the show showed up in the US, it would be a long time since it had aired in England. In fact it was almost a full year from the airing of "Rose" on the BBC till it aired on Sci-Fi (or Syfy as it now ludicrously is). As it turns out, I didn't have to wait that long...
In the spring of 2005 I was done with college (round one) and at a bit of a loose end, thinking maybe grad school, maybe not. My friend Sara had gone to graduate school in Halifax, Nova Scotia at NSCAD. She was graduating that spring and having a big gallery show/thesis/dissertation combo event with mashed potatoes on the side (seriously, there were mashed potatoes at the opening). Her whole family and a few of her close friends, me included, decided to descend on Halifax. Cold and wet and bleak and full of children wielding led pipes... the drug capital of Canada... needless to say, I didn't go out much. After most everyone else had returned to their respective homes, I stayed in Canada for another two weeks or so. I spent most of my time in Sara's little cramped apartment. She had one roommate, Kenny, and no spare space. The kitchen was minuscule, the bedrooms were tiny, the bathroom was somewhat large, but the hallway was non-existent as it kind of merged with the stairwell and the ceiling in this stairwell was mildly psychedelic, as the landlord had plastered the ceiling with these swoopy wave patterns. It was white, but there was like glitter mixed in. This ceiling fascinated me, because all I could think of was who would spend that much time on a ceiling? It would have actually fit in quite well with a few of the TARDIS interiors over the years.
Here I was, far from home and my cat, in another country, but I was going to watch Doctor Who! Not just any Doctor Who, the newly rebooted series! I remember the Sunday night before there was a horrid cold front that moved in. Sara and I were driving back from PEI and it was so windy the car was struggling the whole way back to Halifax. And then the wind that night. It howled and howled. I started putting on more and more clothes in an attempt to keep warm. The next day the whole apartment was frigid, because of the fact the landlord turned down the heat during the day. The cold continued into Tuesday, but I didn't care, I had a fire in me to keep me warm, I had The Doctor. I remember it was still a little light outside the window as I sat down on the edge of the orange plaid blanket that covered Kenny's bed. I was instantly hooked as soon as Christopher Eccleston said "Run!" I mean, the first episode sure had it's flaws, but, well, that was to be expected. Mickey was the main flaw, but then, well, Rose left him in the dust didn't she? When the episode ended and I realized that come the next Tuesday I would be in New York again and not able to watch "The End of the World" I was beyond depressed. When Christopher Eccleston's face lit up in that wide smile surrounded by the London Eye, well, I knew I couldn't wait till this show came stateside.
I still think how naive I was to the ways of the internet. I didn't know about downloads or torrenting. I knew about Amazon UK, and so, I pre-ordered the DVDs, which came out in batches of three episodes every so often and then took about a month to get to me. So over the course of 2005 I slowly watched all the series. Each episode making me more and more a Whovian. In fact, that Christmas when they aired David Tennant's first episode simultaneously in Canada and England, I told Sara all I wanted for Christmas was for her to tape that episode, she did and I was ever so grateful, it was like being back in Canada again!
Longbourn by Jo Baker
Ever After High: The Storybook of Legends by Shannon Hale
Emerald Green by Kerstin Gier
Desert Tales by Melissa Marr
When I graduated high school, my very first decision was not to go to college, if you know me now, the perpetually in school, this is very ironic. But I didn't want anything further to do with education. What ended up happening is I took a gap year, I know, how very British for this little Midwestern teenager right? During my gap year I did many far ranging things. I took to grocery shopping and embroidery and watching daytime talk shows... yes, in essence, I became a little old lady, sitting at home with my cats talking to the tv, or to the cats, because to the day he died Spike never justified why he wouldn't watch Dallas beyond the death of Jock Ewing. That seems a very specific thing to take against and totally disrupted my three o'clock ritual. 
Of course, with this new found obsession, well, I realized I really liked hanging out with people with similar interests. Seriously, if you think about it, could you be friends with someone who didn't like Doctor Who in this day and age? It is the age of Who! In fact, my convention bug was started because of Doctor Who. Back in 1998 I went to my first science fiction and fantasy convention in Chicago, At Her Majesty's Pleasure. Oh, the dealer's room, the guests, the people dressed up as Tom Baker, and look, there's K-9! Thankfully I didn't have much money so I didn't go crazy. The aforementioned Paul, let's put it this way, he was down $1000 after about thirty minutes in the dealers room*, at least it wasn't all for him, he was purchasing for others as well.
*Photographic evidence of said spending spree, so many books and ephemera, they couldn't be stacked in one pile, try as he might. The T-Shirt over his face is a parody of the Fed-Ex Logo and the TARDIS, just saying cause I think it's cool, not as cool as my tin banks at the top of this post, but still wicked cool.
Stupid camera and stupid guys head... I swear that Slyvester McCoy, Mark Strickson, and Louise Jameson are in this picture!
When I was just a little girl... (ok, now I have "Que Sera, Sera" in my head). But, seriously, when I was just a little girl I don't think I ever had a full weekend at home. My brother and I would be bundled into the car and would either head east to Milwaukee, where my dad would have work and we would stay with my Uncle spending vast periods of time at the Milwaukee Public Museum, or, which was more likely the case, we would head west to my maternal grandparents farm. They had a big old farm house out in the driftless region about half way between Spring Green and Lone Rock (the coldest place in the state with the warmest heart) out on Hwy. JJ. The house was huge, having been a mail order farmstead from Sears that was expanded on over the generations. Almost every Sunday this is where I was to be found, in the house, while my grandfather would always insist that we should go outside and play (rare photo of me "in the wild" flying a kite above). There were many reasons that I didn't like to go outside. One was my really bad allergies, two was it was usually hot or cold and I liked the standard temperature indoors, but three was because of Doctor Who. 
I am a tv addict. I love television (though I am studiously ignoring it and obviously bored in this picture of my grandparents living room). I can honestly say that I came by this through genetics. My grandfather was a worse tv addict then me (notice, the tv is the center of the room). Not only did he have the tv on constantly, even eating his dinner away from the rest of the family watching tv, but when he got a VCR he would record everything he watched as well. Now there is only so much space for tapes of America's Funniest Home Videos... I mean seriously, that house was filled with them. At this time though, what was to be his favorite and most recorded show had not yet made it's debut. Instead he turned on PBS and left it on all day. No one was allowed to turn the channel because in the morning was This Old House, which being a constant remodeller in the most unique of ways (there was an outlet built into the top of the house to hang lights on the old satellite dish) he had to watch. Then at dinner time Are You Being Served? was on... which was his favorite comedy. So that there would be no interruption between the two shows the channel was never changed all day.
What was on PBS during the interval between This Old House and Are You Being Served? you might ask? The answer is Doctor Who. Doctor Who with Tom Baker. Now, I'm a little kid at this point, like 6 or 7, and, not wanting to go outside, well, that left Doctor Who. This show freaked me out on a regular basis. I liked the goofy man in the blue box who saved the day, but what I most remember is him being chased in gravel pits by evil monsters, notably, the Cybermen. Now to add to this story the crucial point. My grandparents farm had two big fields and then hills. In these hills were located two quarries. As in gravel pits. As in, the place where The Doctor always encountered his enemies. So after spending an afternoon seeing a show that clearly stated the dangers of gravel pits, my grandfather would tell me to go out and play in a gravel pit (in the photo above, the gravel pit is out of sight to the right). Now, at this point, you might be thinking that, oh, he didn't mean to scare me, this isn't his way. WRONG! This is just the sadistic kind of humor he had, which I have indeed inherited. This is a man who would hid peas in his blind cat's food to watch him sort it out in a little line on the side, laughing the whole time. So in other words, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Whenever I went to the lower gravel pit my parents always wondered why there was one section I would never go into. Well, in fairness, I spent so much time learning about the dangers of gravel pits, I knew that that little curve in the valley created by the gravel was where the Cybermen lived. I knew it in my heart. Years later, when Doctor Who had fallen out of my life, now that my grandfather had switched to watching ABC on Sundays, I would still get chills thinking about that lower pit. In fact, it wasn't until I started watching Doctor Who again that I remembered that this was the reason I was scared. I had totally forgotten about Cyberman and the goofy guy in the blue box, but I remember expecting to see a flash of silver if I where to turn round that corner. I still find it odd that years later I would look back on this time as a defining time in my life, despite the fear. Was a born to be a Whovian? Or did my grandfather make me into one?
I think it can go without saying, but I'll say it anyway: I love Doctor Who. While I haven't been around nearly as long as The Doctor, growing up in the late 70s and early 80s thanks to PBS The Doctor has always been a part of my life. I can literally not think of a time when I didn't know who he was. Therefore, I couldn't miss this opportunity, this once in a lifetime chance to celebrate Doctor Who. The Doctor has been gracing our lives for fifty years! Just think of that, that's half a century. Sure, half a century is no time at all to a Time Lord claiming to be around 1200 years old. But to us mere mortals, us humans, this is a long time and our love for him just seems to grow and grow. Will this show go for another fifty years? I can't tell you, my guess would be no, but if it does, I plan on being around to see it happen. But for now, let us revel, let us take delight in the fact that he has been here this long and shows no sign of retiring the TARDIS.
The Prize: 
