Height Attack

Tarak’s a ‘tall man’, the Doctor’s a ‘Tall man with curly hair and a silly scarf’, Zargo and Camilla are ‘both tall and thin’ and, of course, the last of the great vampires is a ‘giant creature’ with a ‘giant hand’ and a ‘giant heart’ which requires a ‘giant rocket’ to defeat it

This feels like a bit of a step backwards, even in its good bits. When the Three Who Rule are described as ‘remote and alien’ (3), not ‘quite human’ (4), it feels like Doctor Who and the War Games (1979) all over again, especially in the context of being described simply as ‘the Lords’ (5). Furthermore, discussion of the ‘cold and distant’ manner of the ruling classes as what would ‘be expected (6) and their attitude to those they rule ‘as if [they] were a member of some different, inferior species’ (7) harks back to Dicks’s anti-imperial barbs that were commonplace in novelisations such as Doctor Who and the Pyramids of Mars (1976) and Doctor Who and the Mutants (1977). Remember though that the story was inevitably a bit of a step backwards itself – originally commissioned, according to Shannon Sullivan, in 1977 (8), and only dropped because of concerns it might reflect badly on a planned adaptation of Dracula (9) rather than because of any flaws in itself. This is a story designed for 1977.

    Not so much a backward step and more just a problem is, as identified by the sole review of the novelisation on the Doctor Who Ratings Guide, written by Andrew Feyok, the flatness of the characterisation (10). K9 is, as ever, unbreakable, with particularly bright moments including: his ecstasy at ‘a good, complex calculation’ (11); the matter-of-fact way he states he’ll ‘go and rescue’ the Doctor and Romana (12) as soon as he has a free moment, even before there’s any evidence they’ve got into trouble; his reaction to the Doctor’s hunt for information on vampires, taken aback and unsure of the Doctor’s ‘mental balance’ (13); and the acknowledgement that he’s ‘very sensitive’ (14) and it would be best if Ivo apologise for some harsh words earlier.

    The Doctor, surprisingly, proves less writer-proof. There is one lovely flourish – when the Doctor declares he ‘was probably one of the last children on Gallifrey to have genuine nightmares’ (15), it offers a tantalising glimpse of how such a sterile society produced this children’s hero, vanquisher of the monsters under the bed – and a few moments which capture the late-Baker performance – ‘babbling nonsensically’ when ‘worried’ (16) and getting ‘increasingly tactless’ when he takes a dislike to people (17), but these are almost rote character points by now – but Feyok sums it up well saying ‘it feels just like reading Tom Baker’s lines and not Tom Baker himself’ (18), which might sound strange but, when you read the book, is pretty much spot on.

    In fact, it might be a little kind. There’s one scene that differs from the broadcast episodes which it’s difficult to imagine the post-Hinchcliffe Baker even approaching – maybe it got changed in rehearsal, which’d certainly explain the ersatz comic patter of the TV episode (19). The Doctor’s insistence that, should the giant vampire get free, ‘billions of lives will be lost’ and he ‘can't endanger all those lives for the sake of just one stowaway’ (20) leaves little doubt he’s willing to sacrifice Adric for the greater good.

    Faring worse than the Doctor, though, is Romana. Little moments, as when she reflects her and the Doctor’s meeting with Zargo and Camilla ‘was turning out to be one of the least successful social occasions of all time’ (21) capture the distinctly home counties frame of reference of Lalla Ward’s incarnation, but Feyok’s generally right when he observes she’s ‘like a cross between the stereotypical helpless companion and Mary Tamm’s version’ (22) – certainly, the moment when the Doctor physically moves to ‘protect [a fallen Romana] as best he could’ (23) fits the former and Romana’s pointed unwillingness to be ‘outdone on points of scholarship’ (24) fits the latter. However, returning to the Doctor’s willingness to abandon Adric, it’s difficult to imagine either Romana or even Leela (25) delivering the line ‘I can't think in billions […] I can only think of Adric –’ (26). It might just about fit former, more conventional, Tardis travellers like Sarah or Jo, but it’s hard to portray the line as ‘helpless’ when it forces a parallel plan to rescue the young Alzarian. Perhaps a cross between generic companion and Mary Tamm would cover it, which would be understandable given this in only the second serial starring Lalla Ward that Dicks has adapted, and ‘Destiny of the Daleks’ had a pretty ropey approach to the character, while he’s novelised four of the Key to Time stories.

    One change from the broadcast episodes, though, feels like it reflects more directly on his actual experience on ‘State of Decay’. When Romana initially pooh-poohs the Doctor’s tale of ancient giant vampires (27), it’s her clear intent to launch into extended dismissal beginning ‘Scientifically speaking’ (28) that irritates the Doctor into shutting her down more emphatically than onscreen, insisting on the validity of explaining the universe ‘poetically’. In this exchange, Dicks may be playing out his frustration with Bidmead who, according to Shannon Sullivan, kept ‘butting heads’ (29) with Dicks, ‘unhappy’ that the story didn’t adhere to ‘solid scientific concepts’ (30). The mutinous but ignored ‘Humph!’ given to Romana as the Doctor blithely ploughs on might reflect Dicks’s victory over Bidmead once director Peter Moffatt, according to Shannon Sullivan, took his side (31) and, according to Dragon Dave, pushed John Nathan-Turner  to limit Bidmead’s alterations to the script (32).

    Adric’s in this too.

    Beyond the Tardis crew, however, there are some gleams of light. Tarak’s rescue of the Doctor and Romana gets a little more attention than on TV: he’s able to remember the guard’s routines to his advantage (33) and then pithily comments on how everyone else’s similarly brilliant memories are a hindrance (34). His death, more clearly gruesome in the novelisation (35), also feels a little less incidental. His insistence on accompanying Romana in her search for Adric, despite the Doctor’s reservations (36), not only absolves the Tardis pair of responsibility for his death, but also gives Tarak more agency in his fate, choosing to be brave; he dies a hero rather than collateral damage.

    Habris, meanwhile, is the real winner. There’s a very clear sense of the dilemma he’s in, trapped between the Lords, who terrify him (37), and Ivo, who manages such crucial resources as food, seemingly for the guards as well as the villagers (38). He can’t even practice discretion in his position as mediator between castle and village because Aukon will know if he attempts to withhold anything, hence his decision to take Karl despite inspiring Ivo’s ire (40), and is indeed so frightened of Aukon that, even though it’s stated his ‘main concern was with his own survival’ (41), he follows instructions to defend the tower from the rebels (42) even as Aukon confirms it will likely mean his death (43). Despite all this, Habris is a less sympathetic figure than onscreen, taking satisfaction in terrorising his guards as the Lords terrorise him (44) and, when confronted by Ivo at the end, trying to connive one last time for his life (45) where on TV he seems much more ready to accept responsibility for his earlier actions, even if he’s also trying to excuse them (46). In this, he fits more easily the role of quisling, which might explain why Dicks decides to have him killed (47).

    And that’s pretty much it. It feels a shame that the first book to wear the new 80s Who logo should both be so keen to look backwards and stumble so badly on formerly solid basics while doing so. Interestingly, though, this is also El Sandifer’s verdict on the TV serial (48) and, in this, she’s sees a recurring issue for the whole Nathan-Turner era issue emerging, so maybe this is in fact the most apt way for the books to ring in the new branding.