I'm Not Going to Compete With a Ghost (The Black Archive #42: The Rings of Akhaten)

Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, kill my enemies!

Will Shaw is an interesting critic. He's not as structurally daring as, say, Elizabeth Sandifer or Sam Keeper, but he, much like Richard Jones or Sam Maleski, has a knack for keeping a reader engaged with the criticism he is writing, even if the reader has no familiarity with the subject and the length is in the six digits in terms of word count. No where is this more apparent than in his recently released entry into The Black Archive: The Rings of Akhaten.

For those unaware, The Black Archive is a series of book length analysis centered around the television series Doctor Who. They are quite good, ranging from deep dives into the history that the episode is exploring to examinations of the racial politics inherent to a story riffing Hammer Horror films, to an overview of all the clever, interesting things an episode is doing. While Shaw's book is very much of the third variety, it's a damn good one for the simple fact that there are a lot of clever, interesting things about the marmite episode.

Perhaps the crown jewel of the book is its opening chapter, wherein Shaw deftly juggles the interrelated deconstructed concepts of New Atheism and Orientalism within the episode. While the latter aspect is certainly without critique (and Shaw is willing to provide it), his analysis highlights the ways in which the episode often subverts and critiques these aspects as well as their history within Doctor Who. And what they show is a tendency for the Doctor to assume he know what the world is, even as it repeatedly surprises him in how wrong he is. It highlights, though not necessarily leads, a path forward. The Rings of Akhaten, much like the companion who stars in it, for all the criticism laid upon it, might just be one of the most important things to happen to Doctor Who, its implications still being explored.

That's not to say that the remaining chapters and appendixes aren't without merit. The follow-up chapter, focusing on the role of Clara in the episode and the concluding chapter about the episode's role within the 50th anniversary year are both delightful. And while the chapter focusing on the flaws within the episode is probably the weakest of the four, it is nonetheless a fascinating read. And, of course, the behind the scenes material provided both by the interview with Farren Blackburn as well as his Director's Statement are quite interesting.

There are certainly flaws within the book. In the ebook edition I read from, some of the footnotes were seemingly not included (one notable one being an entire quote from Neil Cross' adaptation of MR James' Whistle and I'll Come to You without a citation). There are points that are tantalizingly brought up (such as Akhaten being a patriarchal figure or a more in-depth look at the line "I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a mad man") only not to be explored with much depth. Equally, the book assumes a reader more familiar with the New Series than the classic one and as such leaves out several interesting threads such as the history of the Doctor interacting with God like figures, the similarly deconstructive implications of Carnival of Monsters, or Lalla Ward.

But perhaps most galling of all is the lack of discussion of the final confrontation between Clara and the Doctor. While the conclusion of that scene is discussed at length, what led up to it is surprisingly absent. In it, Clara confronts the Doctor with his, shall we say, less than ethical actions. When he tries to justify his actions as being because she reminds him of someone he knew (who died), she rebukes him, saying she's her own person and won't be treated as secondary to someone else. It both establishes Clara as a figure with agency in a story that assumes she's an object and acts as meta commentary given the previous time a beloved companion left (without a gap year full of specials), her successor was coldly received by the fandom and treated somewhat poorly by the show. It feels like a noticeable gap that the implications of this brief conversation (for good and ill [note the focus on Clara not being her echoes and not the Doctor being at her mother's grave]) are absent from Shaw's analysis.

Still, the book (as well as the series it's a part of) is a must read for anyone interested in Doctor Who, quality criticism, and arguments you can make against that guy you know from the internet who won't shut up about how all religions are inherently barbaric. I look forward to whatever Will Shaw has planned for the future. I'm sure it will be something awesome.

🍁

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There’s Only One Rule That I Know of, Babies— (The Basilisk Murders)

Relatable.

I never expected to write about Andrew Hickey so soon. I was sure I was going to get to him eventually, but I figured I’d have talked about him in the blog proper rather than in a spin off post. I suppose I should introduce him, if only for the readers who aren’t in the same blogging communities I swim in. Hickey is a science fiction critic whose work ranges from analyzing the unintentional implications of American comics by Scottish writers to exploring the historical importance of The Monkees to leaving various projects about Cerebus incomplete.

In regards to my personal history with the author, he was one of the first critics that made me rethink how I view fiction and the world around me. Given the blogging circles he walks through, as well as the book this post is about, one could argue he was my Red Pill into the world of postmodernist critics. Unfortunately for those invested in “rational” narratives, I somehow did not discover those other authors through him (especially irritating given the article Hickey wrote on sentient universes [an article I remember giving me an idea or two] directly links to one of those author’s blog). But that’s life for you: coherency was never an option.

Recently, he’s written some fiction works (primarily within the science fiction genre, though he has written a Sherlock Holmes pastiche focusing on Dr. Watson that I’ve heard good things about), which while not as good as his critical work, still have a level of quality to them. Indeed, there’s a sense that Hickey’s getting better book-by-book. And while I prefer his previous book (Destroyer), this remains the case with his most recent book, The Basilisk Murders.

Given the preamble I gave to this post, one would not be surprised to see me compare the book to Philip Sandifer’s upcoming (and brilliant) Neoreaction a Basilisk, as both books explore the same snake. However, while there would be humor in that, the books are radically different enough in genre, style, and worldview (Hickey is very much an optimist, while Sandifer [as he presents himself within the text] can be best described as the cynicism of someone who walks down the streets during a downpour unable to remain dry while occasionally pointing out houses on the street) that such a comparison would be tenuous at best.

No, the book The Basilisk Murders ought to be compared to is Warren Ellis’ Normal. Both are locked room mysteries based around a group of highly intelligent, highly unsociable, and slightly mad geniuses being trapped in the same place while a series of unexplained murders happen around them. The only person willing and able to solve the mystery is a person who isn’t the typical detective. There are differences between the works, most notably in the solutions to each of the mysteries. While Normal opts for a more science fiction answer (and a technology the Basilisk Murders offhandedly scoffs at), The Basilisk Murders opts for a more human killer.

It is this difference in solution that highlights the core theme of The Basilisk Murders. More than the jokes at the expense of mathematicians, the befuddlement at wanting to live forever in a computer, and the disgust at the racist rhetoric espoused by rational people, the book has one clear idea it wants to explore: how do you interact with other people? This perhaps most shown with the relation ship between Sarah, our narrator and protagonist, and her wife Jane. Recently, they’ve been having a fight and Sarah feels like her relationship has been falling apart. Being around these tech people has gotten her in the unhealthy mindset of acquisition. Additionally, her ex girlfriend is one of those people and Sarah’s beginning to contemplate if she was responsible for that relationship falling apart as well. I won’t spoil her conclusions on the matter; suffice it to say things aren’t as simple as a math formula.

Hickey’s prose is phenomenally readable, to the point where I’ve had to force myself to stop reading. The book’s wit works wonders, though dies down as the body count begins to rise (though it sadly uses up it’s best joke in the opening chapter). While not up to the standards of quality of his critical work (though Chapter 24 does get the book close to that point), it’s still a good read with its heart in the right place. For no one is an island and sometimes you just need to come in out of the rain.

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[Photo: Doom Patrol #19 by Grant Morrison and Richard Case]