Wednesday, 7 January 2026

Doctor Who: The BBC Books #85 – Escape Velocity by Colin Brake

Doctor Who: The Eighth Doctor Adventures
#42
Escape Velocity
By Colin Brake

Here we go then. After six novels set (and stuck) on Earth the Doctor is finally getting his TARDIS back and is heading out into the universe. So no pressure, first time novelist Colin Brake.

To start positive, he does a few things I like. Brake has that very popular habit among Who novelists of changing scenes frequently, but he is more able than most to keep his focus between them, so we might dart over to the side but it’s clearly the same scene continuing, perhaps from a different perspective. (A cabbie or a passing cat, for instance.) I was still jolted by the all-too-TV-ish scene breaks that tie-in writers are for some reason obsessed with, but they contributed to the momentum overall, at least more than I’m used to.

Also, quite a big deal here, Brake introduces the new companion: Anji Kapoor. I don’t think he does a bad job, or at least no worse than we’re used to. Sam had as much introduction as Terrance Dicks could hurriedly scribble on the back of a crisp packet; Fitz and Compassion both had full stories setting them up, but the actual “join the TARDIS” bit fell between scenes and between novels respectively. Anji is the first one to be actively written like a trip in the TARDIS might make sense for her, and although she doesn’t go down the traditional “sign me up” route there’s at least a proper scene to solidify her ongoing adventures. It doesn’t sound like much but you notice when these things are absent.

Beyond that it’s a bit difficult to get excited about Escape Velocity. It’s a momentous story because of where it sits in the arc, but otherwise when it comes to significant events — whether they’re arc payoffs or just the plot — everything feels anticlimactic.

Some of that is due to scheduling. Staying on Earth means running into the same problem they had in 1970: the threat will be random monsters, mad scientists or alien invasions, over and over. As it turns out, The Turing Test, Endgame and Father Time all had malevolent aliens hiding on Earth. (Unhelpfully so did The King Of Terror over in the PDAs.) As a result I’m starting to get my shifty aliens mixed up. Father Time also stepped on Brake’s toes by sending the Doctor on a space mission at the end — an event that, in hindsight, probably should have been saved for the climax of the “desperate to get off Earth” arc, and certainly feels like less of a big deal now. (Granted, he goes in the TARDIS this time, but only as a last minute substitution.)

It’s not just a feeling of “been there, done that,” however. Major events in the book just seem to plod past. The invading aliens, the Kulan, are outed directly to the reader in an interlude, as opposed to through any sort of dramatic reveal or character interaction. That was easy! After that there are scenes of the Doctor and Anji, then Fitz, then biochemist Christine Holland all finding out about the Kulan, each with as little resistance or secrecy as possible — it’s either a case of someone telling them without prompting or them asking and getting back “yeah, since you asked, aliens mate, big time.” Easier still! Brake was a script editor before this, which makes me wonder if he was deliberately trying to move these beats along faster. If so, well done, but now they feel perfunctory — especially where they keep happening. (See also the bizarre damp squib moment when the Doctor announces that humans have Kulan ancestry. Are we doing anything with that? No? Just gonna drop the mic and go? Okay then.)

The Kulan are not a fascinating menace. The idea itself isn’t bad: an expedition crashed on Earth with the intention of reporting back on whether the rest of them should invade. They broke into two groups, for and against, and due to losing their ship they each need to work with a different space-obsessed billionaire in order to build a rocket that can contact their people. A space race ensues; meanwhile the fleet is approaching.

They’re just not very memorable otherwise. Aliens who want to invade Earth for the resources are ten a penny. We hear a bit of lore about their weird family structure towards the end, but by then we’re pages away from getting rid of them. There are some physical characteristics that mark them apart from humanity, but not so many that they can’t pass for human. Fitz notices that they don’t seem to mind rain and they’re good at mountaineering. (Fascinating.) Some of them are benign and at least one of them is a bit of a psycho — I’ll let you guess how this aligns with their views on Earth invasion. The whole “who gets their message through first” plot seems a bit redundant, since the fleet is almost in orbit. Would you turn around and go home? So the plot supporting all this feels much of a muchness until we can get up there and decide one way or the other.

Said plot is mostly a lot of perfunctory (that word again) action and kidnapping. We meet Anji and her boyfriend Dave as they encounter a “good” Kulan carrying precious cargo. He slips this onto Dave as he’s dying — hello, every other Hitchcock movie — who soon after gets nabbed by the “bad” Kulan. By this point Fitz, getting impatient waiting for the Doctor, gets involved because the dead man had two hearts. (An amazing coincidence that’s the only reason the Doctor and Fitz get involved at all.) Soon the CIA are chasing Fitz, Dave is dying of a strange alien infection, Christine Holland gets involved because of her missing daughter, and the characters are ping-ponging effortlessly between billionaires Tyler (team: good guys) and Dudoin (bad guys) until it’s time to launch, executing various quite easy break-ins and escapes along the way.

Some of this feels superfluous in the extreme, particularly the CIA thread that eventually just gives up and stops. (The afterword suggests that this was done to allow a “small cameo” for Topping and Day’s Control character. I’m sure both of them clapped.) Our time with the billionaires isn’t very well spent either. The concept has certainly/unfortunately aged well, what with Jeff Bezos and the like, but Brake is very optimistic with his nice-guy billionaire Tyler, whose last minute tragic info-dump and heroic exit from the narrative are pure B-movie stuff. Dudoin on the other hand might be insane — he seems happy for Earth to be invaded and he has no qualms about kidnapping his own daughter… so more your Elon Musk type, then? — but he’s not deep enough for it to matter, and he’s quickly dispensed with when the plot needs to wander off somewhere else instead.

Dudoin’s ex-wife and daughter — the latter a very unconvincing smart-beyond-her-years eight year old — don’t have space to process his end, and to be frank they don’t make much of an impact in general. Christine ought to be fairly interesting since her expertise is pivotal to the plot (build an interface that allows humans to pilot Kulan-assisted spacecraft) but there are some stumbling blocks to this. Namely: Christine’s bizarrely instant distraction from her kidnapped daughter just because she’s so excited by Dudoin’s task; her going from “I don’t believe in aliens” to “I’ve built the interface” in about a day; and the slight nitpick that they could probably just get a Kulan to pilot the bloody thing in the first place.

In short, there’s not much of interest happening in the novel-specific nitty gritty — it’s all a bit of a low rent racket. What of the regulars? It’s A Big Deal novel for each of them, after all. Unsurprisingly the answer is: see plot.

You’ve probably been wondering where the Doctor’s “Meet me in St. Louis” note would lead. He has, after all, done a few recces to the city of St. Louis by now and found no clues. (As per Father Time.) I’m not sure whose idea it was to make it a bar in London, or how it makes any sense that the Doctor changes an existing bar to be called St. Louis and that happens to be where the note was talking about, but oh well, if you don’t fancy setting the book in America then so be it. The actual meeting, though, is yet another anticlimax. Yes, it’s a delight to see Fitz again — but the Doctor doesn’t seem to agree, feeling decidedly neutral about the whole thing because (oh yeah) he doesn’t remember Fitz. But wasn’t he excited to find out anyway? I’m pretty sure he was. The plot soon requires that they split up (!!!) and that’s that for most of Escape Velocity. Hope you weren’t expecting a big reunion or owt.

Fitz is much as he’s ever been, thank goodness. (Although he fails to cop off with anyone, plus it’s made clear that Anji is not his type. She’s in a relationship anyway.) The relevant parts are when he wonders about the Doctor’s amnesia. He’s pretty sure it’s “denial on a cosmic scale” about what happened to Gallifrey, and he has a few occasions to wonder if he’s just putting it on, before the Doctor outright fails to remember Sam, which seems to clinch it. (The irrelevant part would be the portion of the book where Fitz seems to develop his own amnesia. Is that going somewhere or is it a dropped stitch? It doesn’t do a thing in context and it’s gone by the end.)

Then we have the Doctor, as well as inevitably the wider question of how this arc has progressed. Plot arcs like this always exist at the mercy of individual writers, and this one has been no exception: the Doctor’s allowance for violence comes and goes, his desperation to leave Earth waxes and wanes, at one point he had an adopted daughter but she’s moved on and there’s no sign that this has had a lasting impact on him. Brake very much has his cake and eats it with the amnesia, but to be fair that’s a constant among the writers: the Doctor can remember stuff when it helps, but in practical terms he’s just “the Doctor, a citizen of the universe. I travel through time and space in my trusty TARDIS and I try to help people. That’s about it, isn’t it?

Presumably that return to simplicity was the whole point of the arc, but I’m not convinced it’s worth all that much, since a) it’s already getting pretty tedious hearing him say “I don’t remember that,” b) we know all the stuff he doesn’t, so it doesn’t add any mystery and c) the Doctor only needs to harp on about continuity as much as you, the writer, want him to. If you want the books to rely less on deep cuts then maybe just stop returning Craig Hinton’s calls. (The Quantum Archangel doesn’t do much for the “clean break” theory, does it? To the casual reader surely this all seems like the same range.)

The Doctor is a fairly breezy genius/action hero in Escape Velocity, albeit he lacks some of the confidence and any sign of the learned humanity he acquired in Father Time, apart from having the financial resources to casually buy a bar. He makes a decent enough companion (so to speak) for Anji, who sees him display various abilities and attributes. And yes, he gets the TARDIS back, which is a relief, albeit it’s yet another example of anticlimax: the TARDIS isn’t ready until it is, and then the Doctor can pilot it until he can’t, which sets up the Hartnell-ish status quo at the end. This is written in (sorry) as perfunctory a manner as ever, all eye-rolling “Doctorrr!” from Anji and “Here we go again” from Fitz. Much like the amnesia, I’m sure this could lead somewhere interesting in the right hands, but that obviously depends on who’s writing it and what Justin’s asking for. There’s nothing mind-blowing about what we see here.

And that just leaves Anji. As I said, some positives to consider here: she gets that “stuck in the TARDIS” scene so it feels like she is officially here to stay, plus there are several hints that she had wanted to broaden her horizons anyway: “What [Anji] really wanted, she had decided recently, was to go somewhere further afield, somewhere truly different in every way. Somewhere really alien.” Hey, I never said they were subtle.

As a character, so far she is unfortunately very much the sort of character you’d find in Escape Velocity. She’s well intentioned, nice enough but ultimately a bit too dry. She’s science-minded in a way that drives a wedge between her and her family. We hear lots about how practical and pragmatic she is: “As ever, a problem was something that needed a solution, and Anji prided herself on coming up with calm, logical solutions to problems.” There aren’t a lot of opportunities for her to show this; one example is when she incites the annihilation of the Kulan fleet, who otherwise might have been convinced to leave peacefully. Oops. (Mere pages later she shoots a Kulan dead: “Anji felt sick — she’d just killed a living creature. Disgusted with her actions, she threw the gun away.” Yes love, but didn’t you also blow up a cruiser just now? And everyone on it?) Her politics are otherwise less extreme than Sam’s, her friendliness is slightly greater than Compassion’s. She seems good enough, if not particularly intoxicating to read about, but then it’s not really her story.

Well, that’s a partial fib, as her relationship with Dave is a key component of the plot, and presumably it will inform her character going forward. It still isn’t much to write home about though: Anji and Dave are already on the rocks when we meet them, they spend little time together afterwards, Anji is too busy to ruminate on her feelings for most of the book when he’s missing and then when Dave recovers from his illness — easily of course, we wouldn’t want to slow things down! — he gets murdered anyway in a fairly dastardly and, the way it’s written, amusingly explosive fashion. Anji is again too on-the-go to be thoroughly traumatised by this, however. I presume that later books will do more with it, but by then I’ll have to remind myself: this is about Dave? That guy? He feels more like a plot object than a person; at best he’s a less interesting version of Fitz. Even when they’ve rescued him people seem to forget he’s there.

Escape Velocity is one of those “necessary” books that just needed to do a thing, which means you could probably have farmed that thing out to another book altogether — and maybe they should have. The scaffolding we get around said thing is unadventurous, if mostly inoffensive enough. It’s quite pacey at least. I’ve seen fairly scathing reviews for it and I don’t think it’s that bad; it’s just a tepid, unimaginative and not particularly well-written effort that seems weirdly keen to get past all that icky drama stuff as fast as possible, with characters bizarrely stopping for visits to the gym or naps at home during critical events. That’s how I’d prefer to live my life, quite honestly, but it doesn’t help all that much with a race-against-the-clock space thriller.

5/10

Sunday, 4 January 2026

Doctor Who: The BBC Books #84 – The Quantum Archangel by Craig Hinton

Doctor Who: The Past Doctor Adventures
#38
The Quantum Archangel
By Craig Hinton

Well look, if anyone was going to write a sequel to The Time Monster — that barmy Season 9 closer with the silly bird man and also Atlantis for some reason — it was probably going to be the guy that wrote GodEngine.

It was hard to have particularly high expectations for this one. Craig Hinton has certain habits that don’t exactly bring a novel together, shall we say, but he has written well before. That was mostly in Millennial Rites: a Sixth Doctor and Mel book that took a creative approach to the Valeyard problem. This one has the same Doctor/companion combo, so we’re off to a good start. It’s then just a question of “which Craig Hinton are we getting”: the one who has an actual idea for a book, or the one who came here to reference continuity and chew bubblegum and he’s all out of bubblegum?

Sadly it’s the latter. The Quantum Archangel hits every possible self-indulgent traffic cone on its way to being good. It might not be the worst PDA so far (can I interest you in The King Of Terror?) but it joins the ranks of the least effective and the worst written; not for the first time, I’m wondering if the editing process for the PDAs at this point consisted entirely of checking that the page count = 280.

You can’t really critique a Craig Hinton book without mentioning fanwank. (It’s one of life’s little ironies that he is credited with naming it, yet he is one of its most enthusiastic purveyors. I think we need to accept that he probably meant it as a compliment.) Sure enough, The Quantum Archangel is another example of Hinton making so many unnecessary references to things that he must be trying to win a bet. Got the Master in his TARDIS? Well then, why not have him catalogue the various adventures that led to his current physical state, such as Traken and Sarn? Why not have him look at components and remember that he nicked them from Sontarans and/or Rutans? Why not have him recall previous disguises and pseudonyms while he’s devising new ones? (I could say “because it’s not very interesting for a villain to stand around recalling trivia,” but I doubt that the editorial process got as far as asking him about that.)

It’s not just the Master, of course. Everybody, including the disembodied prose, is in it to win it continuity-wise, so we get nods to earlier canon that might be relevant (The Time Monster, Millennial Rites, Business Unusual, Divided Loyalties and — pushing it — The Trial Of A Timelord), nods to things that have nothing directly to do with any of this, but why not eh (e.g. a comparison to the Animus, or locations you might recognise such as the Doctor’s almost-hermitage in The Twin Dilemma) and nods to off-screen adventures, just for fun (featuring Quarks, the Voord, Krotons, Bandrils, Daleks, Yeti etc). It even goes beyond Doctor Who, with chapter names borrowed from mostly inappropriate song titles. (Total Eclipse Of The Heart? Really?) I know there are people that love this sort of thing but for me it has the cumulative effect of making this feel not really like a novel or a story at all, more a series of forum posts with linking material. It’s just bonus stuff sprinkled on already heaped piles of stuff.

Here’s the thing though: I think it goes beyond fanwank. Hinton, no doubt amusing himself greatly all the while, seems genuinely unsure how to distinguish between prose that advances the story and prose that just adds more words. Sentences groan with trivia, whether it’s Doctor Who quiz fodder or just general TMI about the characters. Here’s a typical example, employing punctuation the way you might use chewing gum to hold an old car together: “When he had got back from the physics symposium in Copenhagen — a day early, due to the fact that (a) there was nothing being discussed that was of any interest to him whatsoever, and (b) he had spent most of the week attempting to avoid that old fraud Winterdawn hurling himself around the Copenhagen conference centre in his souped-up wheelchair — he hadn’t gone to the flat; instead, he had come straight to the university — to the TITAN Array, hoping to see Arlene, to surprise her.” Did we need all of that? Did all of it belong in the same thought?

When not overloading us with asides and bonus material The Quantum Archangel indulges an arguably even worse habit: filler. Every character’s inner voice is leaden with dreary rhetorical questions, pondering each line of dialogue and then second guessing every thought: “Hard facts hit him like a bucket of water. How could he return home? How could he face the disapproval and accusation of his peers after the events of Maradnias?” / “He had to choose between emergencies. There were more important considerations that were even greater than a night in one of the best restaurants in the universe. Even greater considerations? Yes, much greater.” / “Friend? Once, long ago, the Master had been his best friend.” (Those are all from the Doctor. Here’s a winner from somebody else: “At that moment his body convulsed in pain and he doubled up in agony. Was he having a heart attack?”) Why can’t they thrash these questions out in dialogue or action? It makes them seem passive, processing the story around them or privately relating it to trivia instead of doing something about it. It matters when characters aren’t dynamic. Between all the fanwank, the overstuffed character detail and the bland introspection it’s an incredibly inert book.

This is at least a bit surprising as The Quantum Archangel has a few ideas that could — if you were the least bit interested in trying — have made for a pretty interesting story.

We find the Doctor and Mel at a crossroads, him having spectacularly misjudged a situation on the planet Maradnias (leading to the deaths of everyone on it), her wanting to leave the TARDIS in disgust, which she then does. What will become of Mel? What, given what we know about (nyurgh) continuity, will happen to bring them together again?

Then we have the book’s really big idea. After about 180 pages spent mucking about with the script for The Time Monster we finally meet the title character: a godlike but flawed entity who wants to make everyone’s lives better by shifting them into timelines that maximise their potential. A benevolent god that nevertheless must be stopped is a terrific twist on the usual fnar-fnar bad guys, and it opens up possibilities for parallel realities. You could write a fairly off-the-wall novel using these realities as a starting point; The Blue Angel, Falls The Shadow, Oblivion and Unnatural History all did something similar, but that’s no reason not to give us the Craig Hinton version as well.

The Quantum Archangel comes to this idea too late to really make a go of it. We get a few alt-histories for the Doctor (now commanding Gallifreyan armies against the Daleks), Mel (now Britain’s Prime Minister facing a Cyberman invasion) and the various physicists they’ve been hanging around with for most of the book. These realities clearly aren’t going to end well so a literal deus ex machina character plucks them all back to our reality instead. Easy peasy, so there’s no need to use these alternatives to reach any new conclusions, for instance with Mel who specifically needs a bit of context for her character arc. Instead it’s just a bit of colour towards the end. What a waste.

That inability to capitalise on ideas runs all the way through the book, which spends great swathes of time trying to dazzle us with enormous space and time phenomena — at one point the Doctor and the Archangel literally throw moons at each other — but Hinton unloads it all in great sweaty heaps of telling rather than showing. He harps on and on and on about incomprehensible things like Calabi-Yar Space, the Six-Fold Realm, the Lux Aeterna, the TITAN Array and (Time Monster fans are eating well tonight) TOMTIT, all while the characters stand around in the TARDIS hearing about it, unless it’s the prose unspooling it for our benefit, in which case it’s just piled over the characters making it doubly hard for anyone to do anything. Before long my eyes were passively rolling over the words. It’s truly tedious stuff, all the scale of a sci-fi epic somehow played out interminably in a small room with a scanner screen.

It’s not much better on a character level. Hinton has specifically served this Doctor and companion well in the past, moving them a little beyond the limited dimensions they often had on screen. Apparently he’s had enough of that now, so the Sixth Doctor is back doing his “repeat a word three times to show incredulity” schtick. Mel spends most of the book out of the way altogether, either trapped in the Master’s TARDIS or thanklessly stuck in a physicist throng in the Doctor’s — which is not great for a character in crisis. But then, presented with a golden opportunity to interrogate her life in the TARDIS, she just ping-pongs arbitrarily between viewing the Doctor as a lost schoolboy and a malevolent menace, before simply picking the nice alternative and choosing to come back. For good measure her hesitation is eventually blamed on an external force, so perhaps there wasn’t really a dilemma at all. Terrific. (I don’t much like the dilemma, while we’re at it. Maradnias is one of the few times in the book that Hinton shares too little information, which makes Mel’s response seem harsh right from the start. We all know the Doctor meant well, and it sounds like getting them to blow themselves up was the last thing he wanted, as well as it being, y’know, their choice.)

The supporting cast aren’t an improvement. The Master has more to do here than in most of his novels, but he flip-flops allegiances and falls on his face so often that he ends up looking utterly hapless. As for the academics the Doctor and the Master are lumbered with — one of whom is a supporting character from The Time Monster, much rejoicing! — it’s hard to get invested, despite tripping over them every other page. It’s like sticking the Doctor with several Liz Shaws, minus the personality.

If you’re a big fan of The Time Monster (hey, it’s a big universe, they must exist) then there’s probably a good deal to enjoy here… except that even as someone who mostly frowns through that story, I kinda doubt it? The Chronovores were the main threat in that one and again for most of The Quantum Archangel, but they barely feature in this book — I suspect because they’re just too massive a concept to really represent for pages at a time. (When Hinton tries to wrap our minds around really big concepts he ends up writing a half-baked reference guide instead of moving the story forward.) But then, if Chronovores don’t work as a menace for your book, why go to all the trouble of sequelizing The Time Monster at all? Surely it wasn’t just to write giggle-fodder lines like “I might be able to search for the Master through the TOMTIT gap!”, or to remind us of that strange piece of sensor equipment that looked like a metal willy?

I don’t think it’s uncharitable to assume that yes, that was the point. Hinton says in the afterword that he meant to write “a fun romp dripping with camp menace.” A contemporary review from the Doctor Who Ratings Guide quotes Hinton a little more specifically: “I set out (with the full backing of Justin) to write the ultimate in fanwank. Indeed, Justin even suggested areas in the first draft which he wanted uber-wanked. I just wanted to see how far I could go.” Which, I mean, you do you, and clearly the editorial staff thought it was okay too, but this is still a published novel that people need to pay to read. In my view, setting your sights no higher than making a small number of geeks laugh because they understood that reference seems like a pretty feeble use of the license and opportunity, not to mention the time of any reader not obsessively well versed in all the lore. And look, I know it’s a Doctor Who tie-in novel, and I’m basically describing most of the readership and myself there, but good god, don’t they ever want anyone new to dip into these? Can you imagine a casual reader sticking with The Quantum Archangel to the end?

Clearly this kind of navel-gazing self amusement isn’t my cup of tea. I do understand that it is for some people, and power to them, but I think this one fails on all sorts of other levels besides its litany of not-especially-comedic “in jokes”. It’s a space opera that’s suffocatingly stuck in the TARDIS console room, forced to describe what’s happening outside with diminishing returns; it’s a sequel that mostly just copies and pastes, until it finds its own genuinely good idea and then doesn’t know what to do with it; and it’s a less coherent idea with worse execution of the two lead characters than Hinton’s own previous effort that used the same ingredients. For all its cosmic silliness and meta winks it’s somehow boring too — a plot the size of the universe and yet no greater ambition than a pub quiz. But hey: I understood the references!

3/10