Star Blazers, Season 1
(1979-1980)
Adapted from the Japanese anime Space Battleship Yamato (1974), Star Blazers remains much-beloved for its flared, 70s-style uniforms and incidental music, its blue-skinned alien adversaries, and a remarkable facility for evoking peril and near-despair… despite the all-encompassing disregard for logic and astrophysics!
The Big Four
by Agatha Christie (William Collins & Sons, 1927)
audiobook read by Hugh Fraser (Lamplight, 2014)
A fix-up novel that shows its seams yet affords both an arch-(group)nemesis for Poirot and also the space to do it justice (cf. Conan Doyle’s one-shot introduction and despatch of Moriarty). Poirot’s quirks and Hastings’ stupidity remain one-dimensional and rather clumsily wrought.
Hands Off
by Robert Sheckley
Galaxy Science Fiction (April, 1954); UK No. 18 (September, 1954), pp. 54-63.
SF novelette offering a two-pronged narrative, following the actions firstly of an unscrupulous human pirate crew, and secondly of the principled alien whose near-totally incompatible physical makeup renders it impossible for them to steal his spaceship. A whimsical, waggish tale of comeuppance.
The Disappearing Diplomat
by Terrance Dicks (Blackie & Son, 1986)
A return to form. Dicks makes use of Cold War tropes to cram in a proper, high-stakes action adventure where all the Irregulars have a chance to contribute (Mickey, thankfully, is reined in a little). Dan’s Sherlock-inspired brainwork is spot-on for middle-grade.
Doorways in the Sand
by Roger Zelazny (Harper & Row, 1976)
audiobook read by Andrew J. Andersen (Trantor, 2024)
A near-future SF runabout with a veneer of mystery and dollops of humour. Career student (and serial acrophile) Fred Cassidy proves a welcome departure from the usual hardboiled protagonists of such stories. Still, there’s a sense here of Zelazny just dawdling along.
Face It: A Memoir
by Debbie Harry (HarperCollins, 2019)
audiobook read by Debbie Harry (Jammer Audiobooks, 2020)
Like many memoirs, this focusses disproportionately on the early years—particularly the New York punk scene of the 1970s, for which Harry has a nostalgic fondness (without romanticising). Her account reveals a learn-as-you-go approach to life, reflected upon without pretence or dissembling.
The TV Kid
by Betsy Byars (Viking, 1976)
Short book. Short chapters. Byars again creates a relatable MG character with life issues. In this instance, however, it’s not clear whether she’s advocating imagination (albeit TV-fuelled, not dissimilar from the escapism of The Cartoonist) or the maturing benefits of real-world experience.
Locke & Key: Heaven and Earth
by Joe Hill; ill. Gabriel Rodriguez (IDW, 2020)
Two standalone stories plus one vignette (and some indulgent author/illustrator photos). While ‘Open the Moon’ has a wistful sort of charm, ‘In the Can’ is a non-event and ‘Grindhouse’ rolls out its exploitation film vibe without pushback. Grey tones. Borderline-grotesque character art.
Beyond Paradise, Series 2
(BBC, 2024)
Again, the balance is skewed a little too much towards character drama at the expense of the police investigations, but these personal storylines (Martha’s mum’s dating forays; Esther’s single-parenting; Humphrey and Martha’s foster-parent aspirations) are at least well-structured across the six episodes.
Stranger Things: Six
by Jody Houser; pencils by Edgar Salazar; inks by Keith Champagne; colours by Marissa Louise (Dark Horse, 2019)
A bleak graphic novel exploring MKUltra’s backstory through the character of Francine (‘Six’), a teen exploited for her burgeoning precognisance growing up (nuclear holocaust orange–hued flashbacks) and at the lab (straightjacket greys and greens). Stays in keeping without offering anything new.