It was in the early 80s, when I was in my teens and starting to think about my future -- not very realistically, obviously -- and there was a show on the ABC which I've been unable to pin down, which consisted of interviews with philosophers. I found it absolutely thrilling: the notion that there were people who spent their days wrestling with big, important ideas, that this could actually be a JOB, was incredibly exciting and inspiring.
This ambition withered about six weeks into my first year philosophy course at uni, which was torturously dry and dull, all about Logical Positivism, rather than the meaty questions of ethics and values that I craved. I probably should have done History and Philosophy of Science instead.
And I must admit that I found parts of Kevin S. Decker's Who is Who? somewhat dry, even with the attraction of Doctor Who as source material. Also, it suffered from sloppy editing: for example, a single quote was not only repeated in the first few pages, it was attributed to two different authors!
For the most part, though, this was a fun excursion through questions of identity, political ethics, the nature of knowledge and other philosophical issues through the lens of Doctor Who. I would have liked a discussion of the new Doctor's gender switch and its implications, but alas, this book pre-dates even the Twelfth Doctor, let alone the Thirteenth! But I'm happy to add it to my collection.
And if anyone else remembers that philosophy show, please let me know! I'm starting to think I must have imagined the whole thing.
Ziggy Truegood lives in Dell Hollow, where strange, unsettling things have begun to happen. Evil has come to their town, surrounded by woods, and people are becoming suspicious and hostile. The arrival of a strange boy and his grandfather hold the clue to the mystery, but is Ziggy brave enough to defeat the jinn and the paranoia it has cast over her community?
It took me a little while to adjust to the setting of this junior fiction novel, which seems to be vaguely American -- there are woodchucks and squirrels in the woods, with sycamores and trees that turn red in autumn. The mysterious Raffi and his wise grandfather come from an equally non-specific Eastern/desert/North African land with its own mythology and language. While on one hand I appreciate this broadening of the usual cultural horizons, I'm not sure if others might be troubled by the 'floating', exotic, non-specific nature of Raffi's magic? Are we there yet? I'm not sure. It's hinted that Raffi and his grandfather come from a parallel world of the imagination, so I guess it doesn't really matter.
This is a beautifully written and produced story of courage and ingenuity that thoughtful children are sure to enjoy.
Life Below Stairs was produced a year after Downton Abbey started screening in the UK, and I can't help wondering if this was a canny effort to cash in on the success of the show and the fascination with the "backstage" world inhabited by the servants. I wasn't a huge fan of Downton, but I really loved Julian Fellowes' first venture into this dual universe, the movie Gosford Park, which was ever so slightly more realistic than the highly porous class divide depicted in Downton Abbey!
Life Below Stairs would be a valuable resource for anyone writing a book set during this era, as it contains comprehensive and clear lists of the household hierarchy, and all the tasks expected of each member. Domestic service might have provided a certain security, but my God, it was a tough life -- long hours, arduous physical labour, practically no time off, and constantly at the beck and call of others... Hm, not unlike my life at the moment, come to think of it... Except I don't get paid!
But hey, it's 2017, and I'm learning to move past these gender stereotypes. But I still wasn't sure about the Doctor becoming female. Gradually the show began to hint that such a thing was not just possible, but inevitable -- a line of dialogue here and there, the regeneration of the Master into Missy. I won't say I warmed to the idea, but I was prepared for it.
But as soon as the announcement was made that the luminous Jodie Whittaker was to take the role, I was in. She's wonderful, amazing, an incredible actor. She was fabulous in Broadchurch, and I can't wait to see what she'll bring to the Doctor. Yes, it's a big shake-up, but this is Doctor Who! It's always been about challenging expectations, expanding horizons, questioning assumptions. That's the whole point of the show!
She's here, and I can't believe I ever doubted her.
In Sarah Ayoub's Hate is Such a Strong Word, the perspective is that of seventeen year old Sophie, eldest daughter of a strict Lebanese-Australian family, who attends a Lebanese Catholic school and chafes against the expectations of her community while still feeling strongly bound to it. I liked that Sophie wasn't a total rebel. She didn't want to break free completely or reject her culture, she just wanted a little more freedom to move, to express herself and enjoy the normal social life of a teenage girl in Sydney, and this ambivalence felt realistic to me. And I must admit I was slightly shocked that Sophie's father was so strict, certainly much stricter than I've ever been with my fifteen year old daughter!
Naturally, there is a crossed-wires romance, between outsider Sophie and outsider "half-Aussie" dreamboat Shehadie (who seemed to feel annoyingly entitled to lecture Sophie on her behaviour, despite being allegedly more enlightened than his peers). Maybe this is the true value of books like these: to show that, whatever their cultural background, most teenagers are essentially the same?
I really enjoyed the setting of this book; I've long thought there should be more children's and YA books about the links between Australia and PNG (cough... New Guinea Moon... cough). The idyllic island setting, the use of Tok Pisin words sprinkled through the text, and the exploration of ancestral beliefs, gave this novel a distinctive atmosphere.
Though Izzy is fourteen, this feels like a book for younger readers, probably Grades 5 and 6. The diving scenes didn't appeal to me, because I'm scared of caves and drowning, so exploring underwater caverns seems like a nightmare to me! But I can see the subject capturing young imaginations, and the eerie deep-sea world almost doesn't need the addition of magic to be weird and spooky. I also enjoyed the poetic interludes from the viewpoint of the shark.
I have a terrible weakness for the Mitford sisters. My gateway drug was the 1980 television series of Love in a Cold Climate, which together with Brideshead Revisited and Chariots of Fire at around the same time, had an indelible and unfortunate effect on my adolescent aesthetic and left me with a permanent guilty affection for English poshness. (Actually, you could probably throw in All Creatures Great and Small, which was less posh, but also set in the 1930s.)
From Nancy Mitford's novels, on which the series was based, I progressed to memoirs and biographies of the family, to their voluminous letters. (I still haven't forgiven the theft of my two collections of Nancy's letters... was it you, Colin Batrouney??) My favourite sisters were Nancy, with her heart-breaking unrequited love for Gaston Palewski, and Jessica, the Communist who ran away to America and became a civil rights activist. The fascist sympathisers Unity and Diana appalled me; Pam and Deborah were fairly neutral.
This memoir by Deborah Devonshire, the last of the sisters, was published in 2010, a few years before her death. The first few chapters, dealing with her youth, are delightful; the rest of the book deals with the restoration of her husband's ancestral home, Chatsworth, and her experiences as a diplomat's wife in the 1950s and 60s.
Deborah was unashamedly conservative and doesn't hesitate to say so -- she protested in favour of fox-hunting, disapproved of reforms to the House of Lords, couldn't bear Jessica's 'communist' friends etcetera. I must admit (do admit!) that I found the book less enjoyable as it went along. The antics of aristocratic young girls in the 1930s are jolly good fun, but shoots and balls and hanging out with the Prince of Wales and the Queen Mother feel slightly uneasy as we creep into the twenty-first century. Wait For Me! provides a window into a very different, very privileged world, and it's not a comfortable view.
The Twelve Doctors of Christmas is a collection of twelve short stories, one for each incarnation of the Doctor, each one set at Christmas. Disappointingly, though several stories were set away from Earth, all the Earth stories featured a northern hemisphere festive season -- no Australian summer Christmases here! The stories were variable in quality, but several were excellent, especially the contributions from Jacqueline Rayner. There was also a colour illustration for each story, each by a different artist -- these were less successful, to my mind.
But this was a lovely gift, perfect light reading for the holidays. It's my own fault that I delayed reading it until the mid-year break... at least the weather has been more or less appropriate!