Qpid by: Ira Steven Behr from a story by: Randee Russell and Ira Steven Behr and directed by: Cliff Bole

 

“Qpid” is written by: Ira Steven Behr, from a story by: Randee Russell and Ira Steven Behr, and is directed by: Cliff Bole.  It was produced under production code 194, was the 20^th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 94^th episode overall, and was broadcast on April 22, 1991.

 

Unable to outshine the premises of “Q Who” and “Deja Q”, “Qpid” is an episode that decides what Star Trek: The Next Generation really needs is a love triangle between Captain Picard, Q, and Vash from “Captain’s Holiday”.  Randee Russell is credited with contributing the story to the episode with Ira Steven Behr, and apparently his only contribution is the love triangle at the center of the episode.  The plot and final script is credited to Ira Steven Behr, a writer responsible for “Captain’s Holiday” and some of the ideas behind “Yesterday’s Enterprise”.  “Qpid” is actually his last contribution to Star Trek: The Next Generation, he had left the writer’s room at the end of the previous season due to feeling creatively unfulfilled.  Michael Piller asked him to come back to write “Qpid” as Piller believed that Behr’s touch would work for this season’s appearance of Q, played by: John de Lancie, and the thought to bring back Vash, played by: Jennifer Hetrick, when this was proposed for the third season as an episode set in Camelot.  The love triangle would have put Picard, Vash, and Q in the roles of King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and Sir Lancelot respectively as an examination of courtly love and to test Picard’s feelings towards the treasure hunter.  In developing the episode, however, the setting of the fantasy changed to Sherwood Forest and the tales of Robin Hood and accommodating this a lot of the genre of the episode changed.  It does allow the rest of the Enterprise crew to become Merry Men, even if Worf declares that is something he is not, and it becomes a test for Picard to go on an adventure so his Robin saves Marion.  Joining the cast on the adventure is stage actor Clive Revill hamming it up as a delightfully evil Sir Guy of Gisbourne.  Of course by the end of the trial Picard passes the test from Q, the rest of the Enterprise crew contribute to the final rescue of their captain and his love, and Vash makes the not so surprising decision to choose Q over Picard (he can offer her far more adventure and treasure, though Picard uses his debt from Q to promise her safety in a touching ending).

 

The actual parody of Robin Hood only takes up the last third of the episode and yet the way Ira Steven Behr scripts the sequences work as well as they do because they don’t overstay their welcome.  They are particularly tight, within the space of five minutes giving each of the Enterprise crew a moment to shine in the comedic shenanigans, the aforementioned Worf declaration being a highlight but Data also gets quite a good one of just being a complete fish out of water in this genre of story.  Cliff Bole directs the episode and it’s clear he is having a lot of fun taking advantage of the location filming allocated to the episode and in parodying classic adventure films.  Michael Curtiz and William Keighley’s The Adventures of Robin Hood is visually the clear inspiration as to how the action is filmed and the sets that are used, as are the specific colors used on the Robin Hood costumes in this sequence.  Because it’s only the final act of the episode, this is also a sequence that does not overstay its welcome.  While the original series of Star Trek would do similar parodies, were Star Trek: The Next Generation to do so in the same way it would not work nearly as well.  The subversion of the typical Robin Hood story is that it is Picard in the role of Robin and Vash’s own sense of self-preservation means that both characters are going to act against type.  This is what provides the tension for the sequence, they are both to be executed at noon because Picard did not just let his crew into his confidence.  Picard does not really know how to reconcile his relationship with Vash, her nature as a treasure hunter, and his position as captain of the Enterprise.

 

What elevates “Qpid” is how the first two acts play out as a standard romantic comedy as close to the letter as possible.  The episode opens with Picard incredibly nervous about having to give a speech to a group of archeologists, the end of the pre-credits scene being Vash’s entrance which is played as a lover coming back into Picard’s life.  Both Hetrick and Patrick Stewart play it incredibly well, with loving looks in each other’s eyes and nothing but happiness.  Dramatically this is creating the twist that the danger of the episode is not some big, planet destroying threat of aliens, but Picard having to be emotionally vulnerable enough to fall in love.  The conflict comes from the fact that Picard did not actually tell anybody about his relationship with Vash, Gates McFadden as Crusher getting the best reaction of this mix of subtle jealousy but immense pride that the stiff captain is in fact a human being.  The only thing that undercuts this, and the weakest aspect of the episode, is that the scene of a character reacting to the fact Picard had a romantic interest does repeat perhaps one too many times without actually developing it a little more.  Jonathan Frakes plays Riker’s scene as equally romantic and Data is fortunately not given one.  It’s after this sequence that Behr then twists the expectations by introducing Q, sitting in Picard’s chair in his ready room.  This is framed and performed as the same as the appearance of Vash.  While on the surface and with the conclusion, the love triangle implies Q and Picard are vying for Vash’s affections, Q’s reintroduction heavily implies that it is actually Vash and Q vying for the affections of Picard.  John de Lancie has always played Q as queer coded and while executive producer Rick Berman was quite adamant at keeping LGBTQ characters off Star Trek, a decision that will always remain a black mark on the franchise and a reminder how its progressivism has always been inconsistent, Behr’s script and de Lancie’s performance makes it clear that Q feels a passionate attraction and fascination with Picard.  Q is written as outside of the human concept of love, but de Lancie makes him an ignored lover, elevating the episode to the same level as the last two appearances of the character.  Even the title of Qpid indicates that Q’s role here is that of a god of love and passion.

 

Overall, “Qpid” somehow manages to slip an actual love triangle onto Star Trek: The Next Generation and becomes a near perfect example of how to do a fun episode while still saying a lot about the characters.  Ira Steven Behr is a writer who understands how to layer the subtext of the episode to make the fun Robin Hood pastiche a damning indictment on Picard’s need to let himself go, find love, and accept fluidity in his role and identity.  9/10.

Star Wars: The Living Force by: John Jackson Miller

 

A Glup Shitto refers to basically any Star Wars character that would not be recognizable to the mainstream audience.  Star Wars fans may feel incredibly passionate about them, especially if they are characters featured in the expanded universe.  They are not inherently bad characters, they are inherently obscure characters.  There is even an argument to be made that Qui-Gon Jinn could be considered a Glup Shitto as secondary protagonist of exactly one film, one of the much less loved prequels at that.  The Living Force is best described as a tribute to all of the Glup Shitto characters in the background of Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace, focusing almost entirely on the members of the Jedi Council.  Sure, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are also here but their roles feel more of a supporting capacity when you take into account that author John Jackson Miller writes for a whopping twelve protagonists in addition to those two.  This is a book that could best be described as for the fans, because coming from my perspective of someone who has seen The Phantom Menace but could only name maybe one or two council members not played by Frank Oz or Samuel L. Jackson it’s essentially reading about original characters.  This isn’t a bad thing, Miller even wraps everything up in a story that does not have much to do with the plot of The Phantom Menace, making The Living Force an exciting chance for pre-Empire worldbuilding within the framework of the rebooted canon.

 

The Jedi are a flawed order, that is something central to the conflict to both the prequel trilogy and the sequel trilogy.  The Living Force uses that as a starting point for this story; the Council as a whole represent the isolationism of the Order to be a particular problem that will lead to their downfall.  Qui-Gon Jinn as a character is the only one banging the drum that the Council needs to do far more with their position instead of just sitting while the republic slowly becomes more and more bureaucratic.  Miller’s choice of villain for a novel like this is the correct decision to eschew any hints that the Sith exist, outside of a few choice scenes featuring Senator Palpatine which do sadly read a little like the fanservice they are (especially an epilogue scene that directly ties into The Phantom Menace), instead having the Jedi Council facing off between a group of space pirates.  Tonally this harkens back to the many of the science fiction adventure serials that inspired George Lucas to make Star Wars in the first place.  For those following the Star Wars books there are also quite a few direct connections to The High Republic publishing line, though Miller does include enough context that the setting’s connection to that history is made apparent and the parallels between the Jedi then and now form a proper backbone to the argument against the order being isolationist.  The villain of the novel’s final fate is also interesting, the Jedi giving her some leniency and mercy in prison which is an interesting indication that there is something more to the Council in their ability to learn.

 

John Jackson Miller is given a difficult task in writing The Living Force.  This is a novel celebrating 25 years since the premiere of The Phantom Menace and each member of the Jedi Council is supposed to have a part to play.  While the novel certainly has the space to use the twelve characters, they are a bit uneven in their portrayal.  Mace Windu and Yoda are actually given a fair amount of balance in their appearances here, taking up perhaps a bit too much time but nowhere near as much as a lesser author may be tempted to do.  The ten other members at least get one big moment to shine and delve into character more than what The Phantom Menace would allow.  Yaddle’s personality, that is the female member of Yoda’s species, is perhaps the most fun due to Miller using her as a trickster closer to how Yoda was portrayed during his introductory scenes in The Empire Strikes Back.  The most depth of a character for me is the running gag involving Ki-Adi-Mundi and an ice cream vendor.  It’s a philosophical joke about the nature of flavors and the Jedi enjoying basically ice flavor.  There’s a lot of the character’s personality surrounding this running gag and how kind he actually can be.  He is also flirted with at several points through the novel and is portrayed almost as the perfect Jedi, being unable to form an attachment.

 

Overall, The Living Force is a book that’s clearly aimed at longtime fans.  Casual Star Wars viewers, including myself, will struggle just a little bit with remembering who each of the protagonists are as John Jackson Miller juggles a dozen protagonists, most of which falling into the category of Glup Shitto.  There is an admirable effort in making each of them have at least one scene to establish who they are and add something to the central theme of anti-isolationism, however it is a novel that has perhaps too many.  Character work on a whole is particularly strong and the plot is light enough that even with the multitude of protagonists it is fun, but there is some great stuff being held back because of just how many plates are being spun.  7/10.

Delta and the Bannermen by: Malcolm Kohll

 

Delta and the Bannermen was written by: Malcolm Kohll, based on his story of the same name.  It was the 139^th story to be novelized by Target Books.

 

There was a time where Delta and the Bannermen ranked as my least favorite Doctor Who story.  So much so that I have reviewed the televised story twice and there was some apprehension going into this batch of Target novelizations which includes Malcolm Kohll’s adaptation of his only Doctor Who television story.  Luckily in converting the serial to prose there are several issues that are either fixed or softened slightly in adaptation.  Kohll does take time in the opening act of the story to actually explore the Chimeron/Bannermen conflict as well as add just the tiniest bit of depth to Gavrok as a character.  The genocide is happening because Gavrok and the Bannermen are motivated by greed and profit over the life and environment of planets.  Kohll clearly cares about the impending threat of climate change, the novelization making it slightly clearer as to why Andrew Cartmel would approach him to write for the show.  The political commentary is still skin deep, Gavrok and the Bannermen are still just characterized as evil brutes with no real sense of inner life, but at least the backstory is something.  There is also an epilogue that attempts to explore the fates of the surviving characters, the living Bannermen being transported to prison, Billy and Delta living happily ever after, and Ray taking the motorcycle and heading to the European continent.  At the very least these additions add something to the novelization.

 

Kohll does not seem to have had any experience before or since in terms of writing prose and there is a sense with Delta and the Bannermen that there was a lack of editorial support.  There is a fairly famous typo that slipped through the copy editor, but the novelizations pace is also all over the place.  While some of the additional details are nice, Kohll does write these incredibly short chapters that fluctuate from being a single scene to multiple scenes tied together.  The prologue for instance isn’t a prologue, but a description of the Doctor and Mel in the TARDIS at the start of the story.  The epilogue actually serves as an epilogue as stated above, but that prologue could easily be cut and you would have a stronger book.  There is a sense that Kohll has seen science fiction novels with prologues and epilogues so he includes one of each of them.  It’s particularly odd as Delta and the Bannermen was not published during the experimental phase where novelizations became tests for longer Doctor Who novels.  Kohll also struggles with the different groups of characters.  Hawk and Weismuller are expanded but only in service of adding more comedy to the story, the same can be said with Burton Burton running the holiday camp, but a lot of this humor is outdated.  Burton feels like a parody of neurodivergent people, which I’d like to believe is unintentional from Kohll.

 

Overall, while there are some improvements to a particularly bad story, Delta and the Bannermen is still one of those stories that just don’t work.  Adding extra details mean that the story is easier to follow, but this is still a story with extreme tonal whiplash from outright camp comedy with silly aliens having a jolly old time to a genocidal invasion.  Fundamentally it is a weak story and no amount of expansion is actually going to save that.  3/10.

Doctor Who and the Horror of Fang Rock by: Terrence Dicks

 

Doctor Who and the Horror of Fang Rock was written by: Terrence Dicks, based on his story Horror of Fang Rock.  It was the 40^th story to be novelized by Target Books.

 

Horror of Fang Rock is one of those Doctor Who stories that should probably not work as well as it does.  It was written rather quickly by Terrance Dicks after the BBC requested cancellation of The Vampire Mutations.  It’s a testament to Dicks’ skill as a writer that it’s the highlight of its season and one of Tom Baker’s best serials.  Since it’s a Dicks story it was also an easy candidate for novelization, Doctor Who and the Horror of Fang Rock being published less than six months after the television story completed.  While not the quickest turnaround time (The Five Doctors hit the shelves the day before that story was broadcast), six months does mean Dicks has little time to adjust the story before his deadline.  His prose is the usual easy to read style, leaning itself nicely into the gothic horror tone of the original story.  There is a great sense of isolation with the lighthouse setting and some slight expansions of Fang Rock and its legendary beast.

 

Dicks avoids the temptation in adding to the legend of the beast to make it a previous Rutan that somehow made it to Earth, implying in Doctor Who and the Horror of Fang Rock that the Rutans have only just become able to change their appearances.  They have only been intergalactic recently, far less than the Sontarans.  This does create an interesting perspective when Dicks writes a few scenes from the point of view of the Rutan.  It’s basic for characterizing a gestalt entity but it makes an impression when the rest of the novelization suffers from not having sterling performances.  Terrence Dicks does adapt his script well, the characterization is there, but without the cast a lot of the lines that transfer over don’t quite hit as well.

 

Overall, Terrance Dicks clearly understood the story he was adapting when writing Doctor Who and the Horror of Fang Rock, even if there is just a bit of the novel suffering from being a novelization.  His breezy prose is for the best, even enhancing the feeling of isolation while characterization does suffer slightly.  8/10.

The Nth Degree by: Joe Menosky and directed by: Robert Legato

 

“The Nth Degree” is written by: Joe Menosky and is directed by: Robert Legato.  It was produced under production code 193, was the 19^th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 93^rd episode overall, and was broadcast on April 1, 1991.

 

2001: A Space Odyssey is a revolutionary piece of science fiction.  Stanley Kubrick defined cinematic science fiction, all during the initial broadcast of Star Trek.  The original series never outright produced an homage to 2001: A Space Odyssey, but it was made up of writers with connections to Arthur C. Clarke and often discussed similar themes.  Star Trek: The Next Generation was produced in a world where the reputation of 2001: A Space Odyssey fully cemented, and yet it took until the back half of the fourth season to cannibalize some of its surface plot elements and visual style with ideas from Daniel Keyes’ Flowers for Algernon.  “The Nth Degree” is about the Enterprise encountering an alien race that exists as pure thought, calling other species to them for an exchange of knowledge.  This is done through invading and controlling the mind of Lt. Reginald Barclay, played by Dwight Schultz, giving him fundamental knowledge of the universe.  This develops Barclay into a HAL-9000 figure, integrating himself into the Enterprise computer and controlling the ship.  The explanation of the aliens as peaceful and using Barclay as a conduit is a twist so the episode presents this as horrific, Barclay is losing his humanity.  The buildup to this is the fear that the Enterprise crew cannot take any action because Barclay is simply becoming more intelligent and more socially competent.  He makes a pass at Troi which is brought up as potentially a problem, but that is quickly forgotten and she actually agrees to go on a date with him.  At least there is an attempt to frame it as inappropriate with Troi’s position as counselor, but he still gets the date in the final scene of the episode.

 

The biggest issue with “The Nth Degree” is Schultz’s performance.  This was clearly an issue in “Hollow Pursuits”, Barclay’s introductory episode, where he learned not to retreat into his own fantasies in an episode that calls for a particularly nervous performance, coded as through an anxiety disorder.  Joe Menosky’s script for “The Nth Degree” shifts the anxiety not to something he can control but actively resets his development back to being able to work, though with far less derision from the rest of the crew.  Schultz, however, is tasked with playing Barclay as becoming increasingly confident with his increase in intelligence throughout the episode and he simply doesn’t.  With every line delivery there is this undercurrent of that nervousness that makes the confident dialogue stilted.  It is not helped by Schultz’s physical presence still embodying that anxiety, making himself look small and weak.  When the performance shifts to voiceover in the final act that problem decreases, clearly indicating that it’s the physical presence of Schultz that is making Barclay more awkward than he needs to be.  The pre-credits sequence calls for Barclay to perform in a scene from Cyrano de Bergerac poorly, and it is difficult for a good actor to give an intentionally bad performance, but oddly enough these scenes are somehow some of Schultz’s best work in the episode.  He’s paired on stage with Dr. Crusher and Gates McFadden is clearly drawing on her experience on and off stage.  It’s very possible that director Robert Legato isn’t directing Schultz properly because these weren’t issues in “Hollow Pursuits”.  That’s particularly a shame because there are several moments where the blocking and framing of the episode is particularly excellent.

 

Joe Menosky’s script clearly understands the character of Barclay but writes the character arc as a retread of ground from “Hollow Pursuits”.  In the script there is a lack of external conflict from the rest of the crew, Menosky almost cordoning off Barclay when he becomes too smart so the rest of the cast can sneak in to try and turn off the computer.  Where Menosky’s script does fall particularly flat is in its ending, the reveal of the aliens coming into the story simply because a resolution is needed.  Barclay as a character sits in the role of a potential fan of Star Trek, he is supposed to represent the introverted nerd stereotype which in the mind of the general public and the production staff is the type of person who likes science fiction.  Rhetorically it is sympathetic to this type of person, however, the stereotypes it draws upon for Barclay are of bad people.  Retrospectively, while the writers want the viewer enamored with Barclay’s growth and give him the reward of a romantic date at the end of the episode, it is these elements that are precisely why the character doesn’t work.  Once again, it is at the expense of Deanna Troi, often the female character on the show reduced to the role of potential love interest or even just a simple sex object.

 

Overall, while “The Nth Degree” isn’t a bad episode, it is one that is drawing on two science fiction stories that have been engrained in pop culture and it does try to say something about Barclay as a character, it’s brought down quite a bit by Schultz’s poor performance and inability to have more than a nervous presence and particularly poor direction of the actors.  In far too many ways it retreads the previous Barclay episode without having much new to say on the character.  6/10.

The Massacre by: John Lucarotti

 

The Massacre was written by: John Lucarotti, based on his story of the same name.  It was the 125^th story to be novelized by Target Books.

 

On television, The Massacre was rewritten several times by Donald Tosh at the behest of producer John Wiles.  This was largely due to production difficulties: there were uncertainties whether William Hartnell could adequately perform the double role of the Doctor and the Abbot of Amboise as well as if the production team could feasibly film the episodes within the typical 90 minute recording blocks.  Hartnell was also given a week off for the second episode of the serial and the initial plans to introduce new companion Anne Chaplet fell through as Wiles and Tosh believed she would have the same issues as Katarina, both characters out of the long distant past.  Tosh would be credited on the fourth installment as cowriter, being responsible for a full-scale rewrite of the entire serial and leaving his position as story editor during production.  When it came to novelizing the story in 1987, John Lucarotti made the decision to go back to the original scripts instead of following the televised story.

 

In using the original scripts, The Massacre immediately improves by involving the Doctor far more actively in events.  Lucarotti enhances the mystery of whether the Abbot and the Doctor are the same person by resolving it earlier.  While the Abbot and the Doctor do not share scenes, the Doctor does impersonate the Abbot to actively attempt to save people.  Lucarotti’s other Doctor Who scripts played up the Doctor as a trickster figure, something that was lacking in the televised version of The Massacre, and reading the novelization makes you feel its absence.  If given this material to work with William Hartnell would have excelled in accentuating how different the Doctor and the Abbot are.  This does mean that the final scenes in the TARDIS are absent, the Doctor does save people, so Steven does not have nearly as much anger, but it’s a clear decision from Lucarotti that understands the character motivations for leaving.  It denies the novelization of one of Hartnell’s best speeches but in its place the story is overall stronger.

 

There’s a sense that Lucarotti is using The Massacre to comment on The Aztecs.  The Aztecs is a story that writes into stone that “You can’t rewrite history, not one line.” and on television The Massacre draws its drama from the Doctor following that to the letter.  The novelization takes almost a delight in making the Doctor an active participant in rewriting history, not so much that the grand scheme of things changes, but enough that the massacre of the Huguenots is less deadly.  It’s still a tragedy, there is still a massacre that in the novelization Lucarotti leaves to the reader to fully embrace the horror of the situation, but the Doctor saves people.  He also comes dangerously close to breaking the laws of time, Lucarotti writing this book from a perspective where Doctor Who has just broadcast its 23^rd season all about the Doctor being put on trial for doing just that.  He even includes a framing device of the Time Lords extracting the Doctor from his timeline to question the events of the story.  It’s an odd framing story, Lucarotti clearly likes the idea of the Time Lords but hasn’t actually seen The War Games or The Trial of a Time Lord, yet it works for the novel.  It’s a literary device to portray the Doctor as an underdog.

 

Overall, The Massacre as a novel ends up becoming one of the strongest examples of how to novelize a story.  Some of it might be the fact that the television story is the story hit most hard by the junkings, no episodes or telesnaps or clips exist and the soundtrack is a poor quality, and reading the novelization is a more consistent exploration of the historic setting and one with a better grasp on the characters.  Lucarotti has always had a unique voice for Doctor Who but The Massacre is his masterpiece.  9/10.

Wolfsbane by: Jacqueline Rayner

 

The BBC Books line of Doctor Who novels have this tendency to create multi-Doctor stories where the pair of Doctors do not interact.  The Colony of Lies was the oddest of these in terms of structure, the Seventh Doctor was almost exclusively in the prologue and epilogue while the rest of the novel was a standard Second Doctor, Jamie, and Zoe story.  Heart of TARDIS was Dave Stone’s attempt at a Fourth and Second Doctor novel where the TARDIS teams got close to meeting while Interference: Book Two is its own beast.  Jacqueline Rayner’s Wolfsbane is the most interesting example of this trend.  It is a multi-Doctor story that separates the Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane from Harry Sullivan by a couple of years due to a TARDIS malfunction.  Harry finds himself with a different Doctor, one that he has to be convinced is the Doctor while his Doctor and Sarah find his grave.  Now it is important to put this into the context of the Eighth Doctor Adventures at this point: the multiverse is collapsing and it’s clear that the previous Doctors’ timelines are being altered, often with the deaths of companions.  The Doctor Harry meets and spends the novel with is the Eighth Doctor, set during his exile on Earth after the events of The Ancestor Cell, meaning that he is suffering from amnesia at this point.  Rayner plays with exactly what the Eighth Doctor knows, his segments are entirely from Harry’s perspective and he isn’t sure if this mysterious Doctor is at all related to his Doctor.

 

As the premise dictates, Harry is doomed to die in Wolfsbane.  Rayner uses this to play with expectations, while the Doctor and Sarah Jane find his grave his actual death only comes at the very end of the novel.  Wolfsbane examines what role Harry Sullivan actually plays as a character.  His function on television was made redundant by the casting of Tom Baker as the Doctor, being initially envisioned as filling any required action with the potential casting of an older Doctor.  In developing the character, however, something interesting happened with Harry, he became the more old-fashioned character.  Rayner in Wolfsbane, by putting him into the 1930s setting, is putting him into essentially the older time that he should fit within.  He was written to make several chauvinist remarks towards Sarah Jane especially and Rayner does not diminish that attitude, but there is also the sense that he is pushing forward into the “modern” times of the 1970s at which Season 12 was produced.  Outside of Harry’s death, Wolfsbane is on one hand a story about a werewolf terrorizing an English village and on the other hand an examination of British myths.  There is a man convinced he is the son of Mordred, intending on taking the throne if/when Edward VIII abdicates, and the search for the Holy Grail.  To add to Harry’s chauvinism is a dryad, portrayed by Rayner as ethereal and as fickle as you would expect from the fair folk.  The choice of entrapment of Harry with a dryad is a deliberate choice made from love, despite separating the TARDIS teams Rayner clearly loves them.

 

Emmeline Neuberger is the novel’s werewolf, Rayner laying out these werewolves as unable to control themselves on the full moon although they can force the shift.  There are connections made between the moon and silver that create the weakness of it, specifically discussing the connection of colors.  Making the werewolf female creates a subtext of the werewolf as a further metaphor for femininity.  This is in addition to being in the explicitly patriarchal society of the 1930s, Emmeline being initially presented as a victim before becoming closer to a full person through the course of the novel due to her interactions with both Doctors, Harry, and Sarah.  The mythic history of Britain is framed by Rayner as masculine and specifically aristocratic.  It is power as subjugation, the villain isn’t actually Mordred even if the magic and supernatural elements of Wolfsbane are explicitly real.  There is the thematic element of a mother scheming to usurp the power as a parallel of Arthurian legend, but Harry Sullivan is not a knight destined to find the Grail, Sarah Jane is not Guinevere, and the Doctor is not Arthur.  That particular parallel does weaken ever so slightly the commentary on gender in Wolfsbane.  Rayner’s plotting is meticulous in how it actually ends with the possibility that this story does not actually happen at all, or happened in a different way, but again that is partially the nature of myths.  There could be a mote of truth, and on some level the reader knows that Terror of the Zygons is going to happen eventually, but for where it stands it is a myth.

 

Overall, Wolfsbane is a novel that works because it’s examining both an aspect of Doctor Who, in this case a companion, and putting them in the context of their archetype and a larger look at British myths and legends.  It plays the supernatural incredibly straight and finds a way to write the story where it feels right that the two Doctors don’t meet in the end.  There’s a lot of this novel about the Doctor, Sarah, and Harry as a team and how they fit while also tackling a larger societal underpinning.  In terms of Rayner’s novel work it’s the strongest novel she’s written.  9/10.