#50
Happy Endings
By Paul Cornell
Two books meet in a pub. Who Killed Kennedy says “I dunno, mate – I think I’ve overdone it with the continuity
references. I’ve gone back over it and
maybe you can have too many, y’know?
Like, we get it, Doctor Who
stuff, well done, have a badge for mathematical excellence – damn it! I’ve buggered it, haven’t I.” And Happy
Endings says, “Hold my drink.”
Behold, the mother lode. Happy
Endings is on a mission to celebrate the New Adventures, and no one gets
left behind. Well, almost. The fact that, for example, Apocalypse and Lucifer Rising only warrant tiny mentions is
fannish in itself, since you’ll need an industrial strength anorak to sort the
wedding guests from the couldn’t-make-its.
I’ve read every Virgin novel up to here, and when I reached the chapter
written by all but one of the NA authors even I had to get my Google on.
It’s a 300 page panto
walk-down. It is utter, utter
fanwank. And... I sort of loved it anyway. But how can that be?
Well, I think there are some important
distinctions between Happy Endings
and your more garden variety fanwank.
With the “bad” (okay, that’s almost all
examples of) kind, references for their own sake tend to come at the
expense of something else, and they have little to do with the actually
substantial bit. Point being, there
usually is one. No Future, for example, goes full tilt at the
30th anniversary of Doctor Who,
chucking in lots of familiar heroes and villains. But it also has an interesting plot about
social violence and it’s meant to wrap up a multi-book arc about interference
in time and space – plus finally resolving the tension between two long running
characters. Instead it goes “Ahh, isn’t
this nice?”, and ends up as probably the least substantial book in the arc. It’s a jarring mix.
Whereas Happy Endings is a celebration from the outset. Literally, since it concerns Bernice and
Jason’s wedding. It only exists to revel
in how marvellous all this stuff is and all these characters are, and though it
occasionally rouses enough interest to have a plot, that “plot” remains a
subplot, low in the mix. Frankly, too
many machinations would spoil the party; it’s hard enough just keeping a head
count. You can do characterisation at
the expense of plot – which isn’t exactly true of The Also People, but that
remains the best example I can think of where plot gets measurably shorter
shrift – but then Happy Endings
doesn’t massively do characterisation either.
With so many characters, it isn’t really possible to tell a unified
story with people, or with plot. So
everybody just gets a sort of sprinkling of progress. A.k.a. some happy endings, fired cheerily in
all directions. An actual keeping-a-straight-face
plot would just seem inappropriate.
Okay, so we do get
something. Bernice and Jason are getting
married in Cheldon Bonniface – of Revelation and Human Nature fame – and the
Doctor is determined to make it a wonderful occasion. He’s inviting people he’s known since meeting
Bernice, and one or two from before (just go with it), and soon a host of
humans and aliens from the past and future are gathered. Something sinister is afoot, although
everyone’s generally too busy to notice.
(Which come to think of it, is
the something sinister.) The Doctor
begins to worry that having all these aliens on a pre-first contact Earth will
cause ripples in time, not to mention fights, and the tension wobbles both ways,
from punch-ups to a (quite lengthy!) cricket match. Bernice spends most of it wondering if Jason
really loves her, because he’s acting strangely. (Strangely, that is, for someone she’s known
for hardly any time at all, as have we.)
And… we’re already pushing it, to be honest. There are wedding jitters and there’s a slight
mystery, and it all plods gaily along.
Part of my (perhaps improbable) enjoyment
comes from lavishing so much attention – relatively speaking – on Bernice. She earned it. She was brilliant immediately, then got side-lined
by a team of nervous authors with conflicting briefs (ahem), only to share the
spotlight pretty much for the rest of her run.
Her enduring popularity makes perfect sense, as she jumps off the page
with almost any author. She’s that rare
thing: a character invented by fans who isn’t an avatar, someone who adds
meaningfully and refreshingly to who the Doctor is, and what the series can
be. I’m obviously livid that this is it
for Bernice’s ongoing travels, save for a few return visits and her own
(equally deserved) line of solo books.
But for a series that always wanted to try new things, there’s something
admirable about not having too much of a good thing.
As for the relationship with
Jason, sadly a lot of years have passed since Happy Endings came out, and I do know that the title won’t be
accurate for long. But that’s another
story – and another very pressing question of why they made such a fuss about
it only to undo it later, a-bloody-hem
– so what of Bernice and Jason in this?
The latter appears at times to be a philandering jerk, which is only a
slight exaggeration of the guy we met in Death And Diplomacy. The plot does a good job of having its cake
and eating it, and it’s heartening how happy all this ultimately makes Bernice,
but I can’t honestly say I know who Jason is, or whether he’s a good match for
Bernice. (It’s difficult to separate
opinion from foreknowledge on that front.)
Ultimately it’s a romantic comedy starring Bernice, and you pretty much
just have to go along with it. Hey ho.
There’s something lovely, albeit
small going on with the Doctor in amongst all this. He said he was done playing games in Death
And Diplomacy, and he – as well as the books – has been moving in a more
positive direction lately. Trying to
orchestrate a successful mix of people, aliens and oblivious locals without any
shots fired is an unusual twist on a Doctor
Who setup, a conscious attempt to do things differently. And he’s right to want to change, up to a
point; an inevitable sneaky exit (so he can travel alone, plus Wolsey) is foiled
by Bernice, sensibly pointing out that that’s a load of codswallop and he needs
his friends in his life after all. The
Doctor, adorably denying tears, goes along with it. I don’t know if I’ve loved this Doctor more
than here, moving worlds to make Bernice happy.
As for everyone else… well, Ace
gives her mum a hug, which is that endless well dry at last. Chris lives to bonk again, which is his main
reason to exist apart from being loveably over-enthusiastic in general. (I’m honestly baffled at him now having two
kids he doesn’t know about.) Roz is
utterly charmed by Sherlock Holmes, which is easily the happiest I’ve seen her,
but she doesn’t have room to do much else.
Holmes and Watson repeatedly threaten to steal the spotlight, which is
impressive in itself; Cornell reverts to the diary format of All-Consuming Fire
for their bits, which naturally are where the book’s meagre plot spreads its
wings. What’s the point in including
Sherlock Holmes, if he doesn’t have even a little mystery to solve? (Mind you, it’s totally worth bringing them
back just for the line: “I have become
‘with it,’ Watson!” But having
Bernice’s increasingly cold feet point her towards Watson is an oddly charming
detour.)
And the rest sees you into
tick-off-that-hanging-plot-thread territory.
We open with Romana (hooray! Be in more books!) resolving the
stalemate of The Highest Science, not to mention becoming President of
Gallifrey (oh, so that’s when that
happened); Muldwych, the odd possible-future-Doctor from Birthright, escapes
his confinement; Ace’s one-time love, Robin Yeadon, moves on at last, though he
keeps it in the family; the Brigadier is getting on in years, and his story has
a noble end, as well as a very sweet new beginning; and the Doctor gets his
original TARDIS back. One of the oddest
decisions in the New Adventures, the TARDIS-swap has remained a thumping great
non sequitur, as hardly any writers made light of the fact that we’ve been
seeing a different one. (Probably because
it doesn’t make any damn difference.)
I’m glad it’s been tidied back to normal. Odd that we didn’t tick off the feral Doctor
and Ace from Witch Mark, since we’re in the market for random loose ends, but I
gather they turn up at some point.
The infamous Everybody’s Welcome
At The Wedding chapter is like a confetti cannon of mini-closures, with awkward
goodbyes made less awkward on the second attempt, off-screen happy endings
confirmed, and at least one random thing happening that doesn’t appear to mean
anything. (Neil Penswick? You don’t say.) It reads surprisingly well, including a
self-deprecating jab at John Peel’s not-exactly-loveable Gilgamesh. It’s just a shame Jim Mortimore wouldn’t
participate. I mean, fair enough, it is a hell of a gimmicky idea. But come on, dude! It’s a wrap party! They even got Andrew Hunt back, and he was a
vet by then!
That chapter is a good example of
why the book, however improbably, works.
It’s a celebration of good work done by a host of different people, and
everyone gets their due. Although Paul
Cornell naturally leans into his own books, particularly the tail-end of the Timewyrm saga (and adorably Saul, the spirit in the local church, whom I’ve
missed), it never feels as smug as fan writing so often does. It’s written with absolute love for every
incidental character and every effort made to get these books into print. And well done, that lot. It’s also, as you might expect, frequently
bloody hilarious. It opens with a poem
by Vanessa Bishop, which is all good but absolutely shattered me with: “And noticeably absent certain malicious
pepperpots, who never go to weddings and have avoided fifty plots.” Captain Duranne from Shakedown, which co-starred
Sophie Aldred, at one point stares quizzically at Ace and asks if they’ve
met. The Doctor gets several
mock-dramatic moments, including “There
will be no rehearsal here!”, and a reprise of his “If we fight like animals…” bit is amusingly curtailed. The villain of the piece eventually shows up
with a hilarious line that I mustn’t spoil, and at least one of the cameos is a
deliberately crass false alarm that made me hoot. Oh, and one of the chapters is titled
“Blake’s Heaven”. (Sue me, I like a good
pun.) It’s worth mentioning Cornell’s
prose remains thoughtful and witty throughout all this; bereft of continuity, I
loved the bit about the vicar feeling the eyes of the Bishop on her as she’s
working: “The Bishop was sitting in the
front row, which made Annie feel as if she was in the middle of some sort of
‘vicary’ test, like a driving test. When
the Bishop tapped on the pew, she’d have to perform an emergency sermon.”
It works, though it isn’t
perfect. Obviously. Such a critical mass of fandom is inevitably going
to be hit and miss. The urge to include
everything, including the furniture if we can get it in the van, leads to a bit
of simply not knowing who the hell he’s on about. At first I thought Hamlet Macbeth (damn it,
it’s HAMLET, not HAMISH, every bloody time) was the paranormal cop from Witch
Mark, and I’d completely forgotten what he did to the Doctor; Bernice’s
dalliance with Vivant Denon slipped my mind entirely; and while I recalled the
books they were from, a fair chunk of the Group Chapter People scarcely made an impression the first time. But given the purpose and the spirit of Happy Endings, by that point you’re
fully aware of what you’re in for, and it’s oddly satisfying watching Cornell
grab another New Adventure alumnus and cram them in the bag. There’s a great deal to celebrate and be
proud of, and although it’ll be sheer Sanskrit to anyone not well versed in
these books, I suspect the sweet atmosphere would still carry it some of the
way. Everyone, after all, is welcome at
the wedding.
8/10
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