#26
Interference, Book Two: The Hour of the Geek
By Lawrence Miles
Right then. Two books. Two Doctors. Multiple story threads. Different ranges. 600-odd (very odd) pages. Now that Interference is over, am I clear what it was all about? And was it worth all that?
Mostly yes to both.
I think it all comes down to a question: why does anyone do anything? And off the back of that: what are you going to do? And going back inside that — which feels like a suitably Interference approach — nature vs nurture. All of this is wrapped up in the meta-text with what sort of thing you should be trying to do with Doctor Who books at this point in their lifespan, if Lawrence Miles does say so himself. Everything about the two books seems on some level to interrogate these questions.
Interference asked in Book One why the Doctor does what he does, and more importantly why he doesn’t do certain things that might be helpful. It also challenged the notion of what Sam, and people like her hope to achieve, and the ways in which (or so it argued) this is lacking. Book Two crystallises these arguments somewhat.
Sam, in particular, has her outlook not only placed under the microscope but externalised for an entire city to think about. Miles/Compassion continues to give this a certain degree of side-eye: “[Sam’s] political streak was based on what she’d seen on the Nine o’Clock News, or, at the very least, on what her parents had seen on the Nine o’Clock News.” Once again we’re asking if her ideas are truly her own. Sam, in the context of Interference, also becomes a placeholder for the human concept (or at least the late 90s human concept) of progressivism and empathy — where she has failings, so do we all. “[Compassion’s] world was the same as Sam’s, only without the camouflage.” / “London and Riyadh were the same, Kode decided. But London thought it was different. London thought it wasn’t scared. The people there had used the signals to cover everything up.”
All of this ties in with the book’s wider and, let’s be honest, slightly-getting-away-from-itself argument about politics vs culture. The Remote are a society without principles or agendas, they just exist and get buffeted about by random TV signals. They’re posited as a mostly positive ideal, albeit one that is easily corrupted, because they don’t do politics. “There’s no good and bad. There’s just… politics.” They’ve got something they want to achieve, something that will cause enormous harm because they don’t really understand what it is they’re doing, but there’s an innocence to them not found in stinky old humanity, what with its arms dealing and politics and hypocrisy.
Guest, ostensibly the leader of the Remote (or this particular bunch anyway) wants to get back to their roots and contact the Cold, aka the mysterious force they’ve been trying to sell to humanity. That last bit’s really just a cover to get the Time Lords’ attention by doing something dangerously anachronistic to the timeline, so they will (hopefully) snag a TARDIS to get to the dimly remembered coordinates for the Cold. (The Cold that Guest wants to find and the Cold that he’s selling on Earth are different things, a thing and its byproduct respectively. Ehh, don’t worry about it.) As part of all this, he figures it would be a good idea to plug Sam Jones into his people’s media so they can learn from her — in essence, learn to properly care about what they’re doing so they can’t be stopped. I’m not sure they entirely need this (his peeps already seem pretty far along in the mission without having any measurable fanaticism about it) but it’s the bulk of Sam’s part in all this, so it’s important for her.
Using the same script-format interludes seen in Book One, Sam relates a bunch of moral dilemmas. Save a person or a planet, kill a baby to prevent its evil future, sacrifice animals for a greater good, etc. These aren’t the choices Sam would have made, but that’s sort of the point — using Sam’s understanding of things, a sense of morality that is both informed by and divorced from what she brings to it, it’s like moral dilemma in a raw form. One of the main concerns in Interference is “signals” interfering (ahem) with our decision-making, and we take them away here, We don’t exactly interrogate how Sam feels about these scenarios — as with Alien Bodies, I think Miles is happier characterising Sam the concept rather than Sam the person — but taking her away from her baggage and seeing what’s left seems to be the point. It’s something that we revisit right at the end of her journey in Interference, which is the last time we’ll ever see her and is also, maybe just because it’s Miles, before she joined the series.
Sam doesn’t have a huge amount to do in Interference. There are a lot of moving parts so perhaps that is to be expected, and god knows the EDAs have thrown their collective back out before now trying to figure out what to do with her. This is her last bow, but what there is to say about Sam has mostly been said already, and most of that by Blum & Orman.
Interference, for its part, makes an effort to take her seriously. It’s easy to dismiss Sam Jones as a quip in a Greenpeace T-shirt, in no small part because that’s exactly how she was sold to us; the question of whether there’s even a real person underneath is one that the books themselves have grappled with, with Miles himself introducing the idea that she’s suspiciously phoney even within the text. Interference might occasionally throw more shade at her, but it also gives her the chance to speak for herself. Her decision to leave in Autumn Mist was sudden (and not, in context, very satisfying) but following through on it here shows real conviction. She’s done what she wanted to do with the Doctor and is ready to move on now, simple as that — she’s more, implicitly, than just his plucky companion. She is set apart by the Remote from the kinds of moral judgements she is likely to have made, which can only have made her think more about who and what she is when set apart from the Doctor.
When her leaving scene comes around it’s entirely low key and arguably more human for it, a little like how Ace’s second go at a departure in Set Piece was refreshingly free from histrionics, all that being over with by that point. Then, in a sort of deleted scene we catch up with later on (which The End Of Time sort of copied, but never mind), the Doctor finds a way to visit a younger Sam at a critical moment, without giving away his identity. (I won’t say how, but it’s fun.) He uses the opportunity to ask what she wants to do with her life. Is this truly her crusade, or is it her parents’? Sam says no: she knows what the world is and she earnestly wants to help, and there’s a difference between that and what her parents half-heartedly did in their day. It’s not the Doctor or Faction Paradox dicking around that ultimately matters, she is her own person and she’ll think of something. Together with the flash-forward in Book One I think we get a respectable picture of Sam Jones. By god, it’s been harder work than it should have been because of her sketchy beginnings, but there’s a person in there if you care to try writing about her. Not many did, but oh well, at least some did.
Sam’s nature (vs nurture) is a major part of Interference, just as her departure is another perhaps underrated example of Miles trying to shake up these books once and for all. (He can’t take credit for that decision but it sure fits his mission statement.) He also applies the “why do we do anything” question to humanity, answering with a beleaguered sigh that it’s mostly down to politics and we should really stop that. He also applies that train of thought — or continues to apply it in Book Two — to the Doctor.
There’s a sense in Interference that he is not following his normal path — divorced, perhaps, in a similar way to Sam when she was plugged into the Remote media. His stay in Saudi Arabia is definitely out of the ordinary for him, albeit not unprecedented. (You really can’t get away from Seeing I here, or for that matter Genocide.) His visit to Foreman’s World, bookending One and Two and punctuating the Third Doctor bits, allows him to ponder just what the hell this all means for him, as he still (unusually for him) doesn’t know by the end of the main plot. This is especially relevant when it comes to the Third Doctor portion of the story, which is itself perhaps the biggest gauntlet-throw of Doctor Who bookdom up to this point.
Whilst in his prison cell, the Doctor (Eighth) attempts to find help. In doing so he contacts his earlier self, causing (or did he, stick a pin in that) a diversion in the timeline: the earlier self learns about Faction Paradox too soon, and makes an unscheduled visit to the planet Dust. There he meets I.M. Foreman, namesake of an important junkyard and Gallifreyan with a travelling circus. Dust is besieged by the Remote (a less friendly and much later version) and when we left off in Book One, things were escalating.
In the course of this the Doctor (Third) learns that Foreman was an early Gallifreyan renegade, and inspired the Doctor’s (First) actions both by example and as a physical presence when he and Susan left London in 1963. An echo of Sam, the Doctor now finds himself asking if his ideals are entirely his own — sort of a proto-Timeless Child conversation. We are done with Sam but not with the Doctor, so it makes sense for his outlook to be a little more uncertain now, for his tenets to be shaken rather than stabilised.
This is not, of course, the most interesting thing that happens on Dust. In the course of the adventure the Third Doctor is killed, triggering his regeneration early and potentially upsetting future events. It’s heavily implied that the immediate future will be much the same — Tom Baker through Sylvester McCoy will still happen, although god knows about the events of Planet Of The Spiders — but the possibility exists that the past isn’t what it used to be, which introduces an element of danger to the Past Doctor Adventures. Whether anyone picks it up is another matter, but Miles wasn’t enthused about the closed-off continuity of the PDAs — ya think? — and this seems like a good way to allow those authors an out. I hated this device when I first read Interference, long ago in the before-marathon times, but I can see its value now. Even if, seriously, it might not amount to anything more than sending a “sorry” letter to the Planet Of The Spiders fan club, the sheer fact of using the EDAs as a springboard for the ongoing PDAs makes an actual virtue of there being two book ranges, tying them together for the first time since (and to much greater purpose than) The Eight Doctors.
It serves a dual purpose, however, enriching the EDAs as well. Faction Paradox work a bit of magic while Pertwee is making his early exit, implanting a virus that will come to fruition once the Doctor is McGann-shaped. This handily cocks Chekhov’s Gun for the next stage of the EDAs. (It’s also a possible explanation for the Eighth Doctor’s half-humanness, although that really only makes sense if this is the prime timeline and not “interference” after all. But I mean, whatever, I’ll take it.) It also serves a character point to introduce some danger to the Doctor — is he in control of his actions? Does he control his destiny? (See also, his inability to escape from prison.) All useful stuff for a character that some authors, like Gary Russell, have vocally struggled to find a voice for in these books.
I’ve got questions about how well the Third Doctor stuff integrates into Interference. I know Miles has 600 pages to play with but it’s not hugely beneficial to the pacing. I sort of wish he’d gone off and written a Past Doctor book instead that gradually incorporated Eighth Doctor things like the Remote and then shocked us by tying together and detonating both ranges at the end. I certainly think its presence here dampens Sam’s exit, which for heaven’s sake happens almost a hundred pages before the book properly ends, turning it into more of a memory than a lasting impression once you’re done.
Also, by being the true lasting impression of Interference it keeps the focus more on Where These Books Are Going than What This Book Is About, Here And Now. There’s a definite sense that the wider arc stuff is of more interest than, say, the struggle to prevent the Remote (whose investment is so arguable that they need a pep talk from Sam) from accidentally triggering a galactic whoopsie-pooh. Even within their plot there’s a direct influence from the Time Lords’ war with The Enemy (another Alien Bodies morsel and rainy-day plot point), which is cool and lore-y and everything but doesn’t actually go anywhere in this book.
I also found, on my first read through years back, all the stuff about arms dealing rather dry and mean, to say nothing of the Doctor getting the shit beaten out of him for ages. I felt some of that again this time, although it’s at least obvious that Miles has things to say here, occasionally (like in the chapter that’s just a chunk of the Voodoo Economics documentary) pausing the wider concerns in order to say them. I know “soapboxing” is a simplification but once you’ve identified the Remote’s real reason for being here, all that’s left on the human side of things is finger-wagging.
Perhaps the most interesting part of the “now” plot is what happens to Fitz, which is ironic as he barely seemed to feature in Book One. “Seemed to” is the operative phrase, however, as Fitz’s centuries-long stay with the Remote has in fact looped back around to the present. Following the Remote process of “remembering” where people are reincarnated in new bodies using the shared memories of others (be thankful it’s not the Venusian “remembering” where they keep your memory alive by eating you), Fitz is in fact one of the Remote agents we’ve been seeing all along under a different name.
Miles isn’t just Doing A Cool Thing here with the timeline, encouraging you to read Book One again and go “ohhh” the second time; it’s also an excuse to bed in how much Fitz belongs in the TARDIS, showing us his determination to use any means necessary to stay true enough to himself so that he’ll want to go back to his old life even if on the surface he no longer remembers it. The eventual transformation back to “Fitz” and away from his Remote self is very affecting, with the Doctor ensuring it’s his choice. It’s a subtle bit of character work that follows on nicely from books like Unnatural History and Autumn Mist where he’s more and more becoming one of the guys.
There is an inverse to this, of course, which might come into play later. Fitz had a choice: stay as he is and be corrupted, or die and be reborn now, the remembering process hopefully keeping alive that spark of his true self. In the Eighth Doctor story it’s implied that he did the latter — and for all intents and purposes, he did. But in the Third Doctor story it’s revealed that he didn’t — the copies still happened and so all of that worked out, but the “real” Fitz wanted his own identity and life to remain in tact, which meant he grew old in Faction Paradox, became warped and now hates the Doctor. (He also kills Time Lords for fun. The Master and the Rani are among his trophy heads. Yikes.)
This is, of course, bloody horrible: “our” Fitz is even more of a fake than he appeared. It was bad enough that Fitz had to endure yet another indoctrination, hundreds of years stranded and an apparent suicide all because the Doctor said “hey could you keep an eye on things in Geneva kthxbye” without then going all Dark Side too. I think there’s an argument to be made that this is just the sort of edgy, try-hard character journey you’d expect Miles to roll his eyes at. But it lends itself to future stories. We learn that “Father Kreiner” has now been whisked off to the bottle universe — a Miles device that allows the New Adventures to exist simultaneously, which is nice, and which featured in Dead Romance. The Doctor, in his epilogue on Foreman’s World, doesn’t know who Kreiner is and clearly wants to speak to him again. (Interestingly we are ahead of him on this, as well as on the virus he’s carrying.) It’s worth noting that in his final scene Father Kreiner seems open to seeing the Doctor again not in the context of getting his head on the wall. If this whole thing comes back, hopefully that spirit will enter into it. But I’d understand if a reader simply looked at all this and thought, Christ, that’s a bit harsh innit? Must all companions go through absolute Hell? It’s another ongoing trope, whether Miles-the-great-disruptor likes it or not.
On a lighter note — perhaps the only one — we’re still doing The Sarah & K9 Show, guest starring Lost Boy the adorable Ogron. This continues to be a welcome addition to what is, let’s face it, a lot of heavy-going material, but all the same you get the sense there isn’t a huge amount of room for it: Sarah and co. are politely parked towards the end, and they might only have been there so someone could let the Doctor out of that damned prison cell. It’s still nice that Miles throws the more conventional fans a bone by having these characters turn up, and letting them have fun. (Apart from maybe the bit about Sarah’s belief that the Doctor has made her sterile. Come on, mate.) There’s less stuff about Ogrons in Book Two, the species being — god love ’em — easy to sum up, but a dollop of world-building in the Third Doctor section suggests that we could still do more with them.
I suppose a key concern with Interference is if it makes sense or not. I’d say yes: Miles may have a mind-boggling number of mind-boggling concepts but his writing style is engaging and wry enough about it that it doesn’t feel like work. I raced through both books; enough epilogues queue up politely before the Third Doctor stuff rounds off, and then there’s even more summing up after that for a clear-ish understanding. It’s a lot to take in but it puts the work in to be comprehensible.
Some bits still seem to be hanging though, and I don’t just mean the leftover bees in the Doctor’s bonnet. I’m still unclear on how the confluence of Doctors (surely the main “interference” of the title) came about, since the whole point is that it’s an aberration. We know now that the TARDIS’s recent odd behaviour is because it knew this was coming and the damage it would cause — but what new thing happened to get the Doctor into that cell, and consequently get that message to his earlier self? It matters since this is a paradox, and those don’t just happen naturally: this Eighth Doctor follows on from Planet Of The Spiders and he is now causing that not to happen. It’s entirely possible that I missed a spot, but I couldn’t see the intervention/interference that caused it. You would think Faction Paradox would take the credit — they’re happy to “as you know, Bob” their other achievements at the end. And while we’re at it, was that the only reason the Third Doctor ended up on Dust? Maybe it was, but given all the highfalutin machinations Interference sets in motion, you would think the inciting incident itself would be clear. Again, maybe I’m just thick, or maybe it’s still to be revealed — although I doubt that as Miles is tapping out now. I have a feeling that he simply couldn’t spin every plate perfectly.
Is Interference satisfying? As a piece of world-building and as a general milestone in two book ranges, I’d say a big yes. Of course books like Seeing I have shown that it’s all well and good setting up ground rules but it does depend on others making use of them, so this could still be a damp squib. But Miles engages with the books before now and with his own prior ideas in a way that should, by rights, make everything more interesting from now on. It’s a pleasantly fizzy experience to think about for now.
As a novel though, or the latest weekly adventure of our TARDIS trio, I think it’s rather lacking and certainly a bit dour: the Doctor mostly rots, Fitz mostly waits, Sam mostly watches a script unfold for the benefit of someone else, the Remote struggle with agency generally. I can see why younger me wasn’t engaged, but when you’ve been following all of this at least the character work pays off. Miles is here to ask big questions about the books as a whole and the characters in particular, and I generally found those answers satisfying. It’s just not much fun in between, save for Sarah and cool bits like that whole I.M. Foreman conundrum. Both books are also the most obvious mouth-piece for the author’s views I’ve encountered so far, which is a lack of subtlety that works against them.
Is it the best Lawrence Miles book(s)? Well, that’s all totally subjective, but I’d say Book Two is comfortably stronger than One, although some of that is the sheer contingent of big moments and answers he held back for this one. For what it’s worth I had more fun with Alien Bodies, which works for a casual reader despite all its lore, and although Dead Romance is even more horrible than Interference it’s at least self-contained, its focus more on what story it’s telling now than what stories we could tell later on. Not that that’s a bad thing for Interference per se, but — personal preference — I’ve seen enough sequel setup in movies to feel a little weary of it now, and I’m more excited about what’s in front of me. Again, you maybe have to look at Interference as a character piece for that.
I’m starting to worry that this review’s going to need two books, so: Book Two’s even busier, but it’s good. Sam’s exit works well — farewell, now let’s hope the next companion doesn’t face-plant immediately. (I haven’t mentioned Compassion because the fact of her companion status isn’t addressed in Interference. She just hasn’t left yet. Tune in next week?) Miles has definitely been a benefit to both book ranges before and here in particular, but I suspect that his desire to have and eat both cakes leaves some of what he’s doing in Interference on a lower volume than it ought to be. I know he hoped to write the Best Doctor Who book here. I don’t think he’s done that, but it’s a contender for the Most.
7/10
