11. Marc Platt (1997), Lungbarrow (Virgin New Adventures)
Wednesday, 6 August 2008 21:55![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
strange_complexAs far as I can remember, my total experience with Doctor Who novels before this one consists of:
For all that, I'm glad I read it. It seems to be the novel that is referred to most often in fannish debate forums, so at least I know what all the fuss regarding looms is about now. It was also generally an enjoyable read. I liked the portrayal of early Gallifreyan history and the sense of atmosphere about the Lungbarrow house - although I did think that maybe there were slightly too many scenes of people wandering about trapped in its oppressive corridors and wrangling with one another over ancient feuds. I wouldn't say it was great literature, and I noticed a higher proportion of typos and spelling errors (e.g. 'populous' for 'populace') than I would expect in a professionally-produced publication, but it was imaginative and absorbing all the same.
Of course, the big issue that this novel prompts among fans is that of 'how canon' it is. And you can see why. Let's assume for the moment that the meaning of the word 'canon' as used in a Whovian context is roughly 'a set of stories about a single character, all of which need to be viewed as part of the same continuity, and therefore each of which casts a meaningful light on the way that character should be understood in all the other stories', which is what seems to me to be implied in most discussion contexts where I've seen it being used. If that definition holds, and is applied to this novel, then it is asking its readers to revise their understanding of the Doctor on an unusually radical scale, and to apply that new understanding to every other story he has ever appeared in. Suddenly, he's a reincarnation of mysterious figure from Gallifrey's early history, he's not literally Susan's grandfather, and he hails from a distinctly soap opera-esque family - and all of this in spaces where the reader's imagination had previously been free to play. It closes doors, presents a new view of the Doctor's motivations which readers may or may not like, and arguably reduces the mystique of the character by the very act of laying out his origins.
Whovian canonicity is something I really want to write about at some point in this journal. I'm fascinated by the way the concept is applied, and especially the way it frequently seems to me to go alongside very literal interpretations of things that are said by characters in accepted 'canonical' contexts. Just at the moment, though, I have a growing backlog of all sorts of review posts which need writing, not to mention the fact that I'm slipping further and further behind on the schedule of academic work that I was going to get completed over the summer. So it's probably better to let my thoughts on the matter mature quietly in the background for the time being, and satisfy myself with linking to Paul Cornell's excellent post about it instead. It is obvious, though, that Marc Platt is very conscious of what he's doing in this novel, and of the impact it was bound to have on fans, as I think this little exchange between the Doctor and Dorothée (aka Ace) while they are watching a puppet-show demonstrates:
If you'd like to read Lungbarrow yourself, it is available in full on the BBC's Doctor Who ebooks page. But I can't help but suspect that if you did, you'd have found that out already. ;-)
- One Target novelisation read when a child, I think involving Cybermen overseeing human slaves working in a quarry. I can't remember which Doctor was in it, but if anyone has the slightest idea what I'm on about, do let me know. Unhelpfully, I shall add that the slave-masters may not even have been Cybermen (but I'm pretty sure they weren't Daleks).
- State of Change, a Virgin Missing Adventure in which the Sixth Doctor and Peri visit ancient Rome and find that all is not as it should be, read in my early 20s when a friend who was both a prominent member of OUWho and a fellow Classicist lent it to me.
For all that, I'm glad I read it. It seems to be the novel that is referred to most often in fannish debate forums, so at least I know what all the fuss regarding looms is about now. It was also generally an enjoyable read. I liked the portrayal of early Gallifreyan history and the sense of atmosphere about the Lungbarrow house - although I did think that maybe there were slightly too many scenes of people wandering about trapped in its oppressive corridors and wrangling with one another over ancient feuds. I wouldn't say it was great literature, and I noticed a higher proportion of typos and spelling errors (e.g. 'populous' for 'populace') than I would expect in a professionally-produced publication, but it was imaginative and absorbing all the same.
Of course, the big issue that this novel prompts among fans is that of 'how canon' it is. And you can see why. Let's assume for the moment that the meaning of the word 'canon' as used in a Whovian context is roughly 'a set of stories about a single character, all of which need to be viewed as part of the same continuity, and therefore each of which casts a meaningful light on the way that character should be understood in all the other stories', which is what seems to me to be implied in most discussion contexts where I've seen it being used. If that definition holds, and is applied to this novel, then it is asking its readers to revise their understanding of the Doctor on an unusually radical scale, and to apply that new understanding to every other story he has ever appeared in. Suddenly, he's a reincarnation of mysterious figure from Gallifrey's early history, he's not literally Susan's grandfather, and he hails from a distinctly soap opera-esque family - and all of this in spaces where the reader's imagination had previously been free to play. It closes doors, presents a new view of the Doctor's motivations which readers may or may not like, and arguably reduces the mystique of the character by the very act of laying out his origins.
Whovian canonicity is something I really want to write about at some point in this journal. I'm fascinated by the way the concept is applied, and especially the way it frequently seems to me to go alongside very literal interpretations of things that are said by characters in accepted 'canonical' contexts. Just at the moment, though, I have a growing backlog of all sorts of review posts which need writing, not to mention the fact that I'm slipping further and further behind on the schedule of academic work that I was going to get completed over the summer. So it's probably better to let my thoughts on the matter mature quietly in the background for the time being, and satisfy myself with linking to Paul Cornell's excellent post about it instead. It is obvious, though, that Marc Platt is very conscious of what he's doing in this novel, and of the impact it was bound to have on fans, as I think this little exchange between the Doctor and Dorothée (aka Ace) while they are watching a puppet-show demonstrates:
"'Inaccurate,' complained the Doctor. 'Rassilon should not be wearing that sash yet.'Gotta respect that.
'Whoa! Better write in and complain,' said Dorothée."
If you'd like to read Lungbarrow yourself, it is available in full on the BBC's Doctor Who ebooks page. But I can't help but suspect that if you did, you'd have found that out already. ;-)
