BBC Books continue their occasional series of Doctor Who novels by big-name authors
with this third Doctor story by respected, bestselling hard-sf author Alastair
Reynolds. There seems to be a distinct
subset of science fiction authors who work in their own universes and would
never deign to enter a shared world or tie-in… unless it’s Doctor Who.
Reynolds is a fantastic author, gifted with the ability to
create vast, mind-boggling universes that nonetheless embrace the human
element. I’ve read a number of his books, and have several more waiting to be
read (causing an inevitable filing issue – do I shelve Harvest of Time with my Reynolds book s or my Who books?) On the whole, I am less keen on his expansive ‘Revelation
Space’ sequence than his more eccentric, one-off novels like the sf-noir Century Rain and the steampunk-ish Terminal World. It’s unsurprising, then,
that his take on the Pertwee years of Doctor
Who is a winner for me.
Like Stephen Baxter with The
Wheel of Ice, Reynolds here delivers a heartfelt love letter to his
favourite period of Doctor Who. He
has stated that he considers the Master to be the greatest villain ever
created, and while I love the old bastard, I can’t say I’ve ever thought he was
as good as all that… until reading Harvest
of Time. While the novel is a brilliant evocation of the Pertwee era as a
whole, where it triumphs is in its presentation and deconstruction of the
Master. Reynolds nails the love/hate relationship between the Master and the
Doctor, stemming back to their friendship and rivalry at the Time Lord Academy
(something we even get a flashback to, and a period that was more important to
the future of the universe than we ever realised). While for much of the novel the Master is
confined to an oppressive prison, submerged and irradiated to keep others from
reaching him and falling under his influence, he nonetheless dominates
proceedings, even more so after his inevitable escape.
The evil genius’s plan in this story is both brilliant and
arrogant even by his own insane standards. Knowing that his incarceration will
end one day, he co-opts his enforced involvement in a secret communications
project (using neutrinos, a good example of former ESA scientist Reynold’s use
of cutting edge physics in his work) to send a distress call to his own future
self. While the Ainley or Jacobi Master turning up to rescue Delgado’s
incarnation is a wonderful image, this isn’t what we get here (not to say that
there are no other Masters on offer during the course of the novel). Instead,
the message in intercepted by the Sild, an invasive species of alien life so
dangerous and morally corrupt that the Time Lords imprisoned them in a vast
spaceship of horrors, the Consolidator (presumably
used for the villains too nasty to even get into Shada).
The result is a work that spans history from the familiar “five
minutes into the future” of the Pertwee era to the deep future. For the most
part, Reynolds creates a perfect evocation of the best of the Pertwee era,
combining the grungy, industrial feel of much of his earliest serials with the
cosiness of the UNIT family setup. A good deal of the action takes place on an
oil rig far out in the North Sea, under the management of one Eddie Macrimmon
(no relation), a dirty workplace peopled by resilient Scots and usurped by
slimy government sorts with few charms and even fewer scruples. Eddie is herself
a finely drawn character, and while her eventual twist of fate is well
signposted, it works well in the context of the story.
Meanwhile, the UNIT team is well-drawn, with only Benton missing
out on a decent share of the action. Yates is recognisable without being the
prig he sometimes was on TV, while both the Brigadier and Jo are perfectly
recreated. We see how difficult life is for the Brigadier, forced to make
decisions of a life-or-death nature concerning his friends when the fate of the
world hangs in the balance. The gradual erasure of the Master from time, a symptom
of the Sild’s attempts to abduct him for their own purposes, leads to memory
loss, with the Brigadier worst affected. Cleverly, this allows Reynolds to play
with the more buffoonish, easily confuse Brig of the later serials without
damaging his credibility as a soldier. Jo is equally well-served. On television
it was sometimes hard to see how she ever got a job in UNIT, influential uncle
or no, but here Reynolds makes clear how resourceful the young woman is, and
how well she can use her cuteness and youth to get the big men around her to do
things her way and get away with bending the rules.
The Doctor, of course, is the centre of attention much of
the time, and Reynolds succeeds in evoking Pertwee’s patrician charm, and
occasional boorishness, very well. We’re afforded glimpses into his thoughts,
but never enough to spoil the mystique of the character. The essential actions
scenes are handled very well too, often a tricky thing to pull off. However,
the best moments for the Doctor occur when he is paired with the Master, either
at loggerheads or as uneasy allies. Indeed, in the novel’s final third, when
events move billions of years into the future, the Doctor/Master pairing
becomes a sparring double act that it would have been a joy to watch on TV with
Pertwee and Delgado. There’s the inescapable feeling that, however much they
distrust one another, the Doctor and Master need each other. The one is
incomplete without the other. There’s also the fundamental tragedy of the
Master’s existence, highlighted in an astonishing sequence in which the Master,
distant from his own native era, feels his escape from the influence of his
scattered other incarnations. There is the suggestion that each version of the
Master is part of a larger, gestalt being, driven to acts of evil by its very
nature. It’s a fascinating exploration of the character that adds him depth.
Reynolds is also clearly having fun writing for the huge,
busy Whoniverse. While alien life exists in his other works, it is generally rare,
inscrutable and distant. Here, though, he creates a busy and bustling cosmos,
full of varied creatures, from the body-snatching shrimplike Sild to the
peaceful Praxilions, far-future caterpillar people. He throws in references to
beings such as the Blind Watchmakers, whose “clocks made pulsars look slipshod,”
and aqueous creatures whose organs float visibly in their watery bodies. We learn
that the familiar universe of humans and Time Lords is part of the Era of Mass
Time Travel, and that the deep future is altogether more dangerous and
malleable. It’s an altogether more fun style of world building to his usual meticulous
approach.
At the end of the day, though, it’s all about the Master, a
man of many, many parts. Reynolds acknowledges the existence of other Masters
(there are numerous cheeky references to the revived series), but his love of
the original, and best, version of the character shines through. This is a
triumphant novel, a treat for any Pertwee fan and a must for any follower of
Delgado. Masterful.
Placement: Somewhere between The Daemons and The Sea Devils.
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