The Time Dissolver
by Jerry Sohl (Avon, 1957; reprinted Sphere, 1967)
An amnesiac ex-scientist investigates his own memory loss. Sohl favours gentle SF intrigue in pursuing his premise, working in a low-key human element rather than driving forward with the psychological breakdown/conspiracy thrills of, say, Eric Frank Russell’s “With a Strange Device” (1964).
The Collector
by John Fowles (Jonathan Cape, 1963)
audiobook read by James Wilby (Bolinda, 2015)
Chilling only insomuch that it lays bare the knowledge that such people exist, more or less integrated into society. Wilby puts real emotion into his audiobook reading but it’s still just half a novel of pure ick, inadequately countervailed by Miranda’s reminiscences.
Flash Gordon, Season 2
(NBC, 1982)
Perfunctory and pointless. With Ming defeated, Flash Gordon and a playfully feminist Dale adopt the baby dragon Gremlin (irredeemably annoying) and embark upon 16 non-episodic, half-length action adventures all of which start with them playing happy families and end with demented laughter.
The Nargun and the Stars
by Patricia Wrightson (Hutchison Junior, 1973 / Puffin, 1975)
Wrightson’s MG fantasy makes the most of its Australian setting and Aboriginal Dreamtime influences while sneaking in a tale of bereavement and found family. The plot moves at its own pace, in its own direction, while the characters find their way forward.
Jeeves & Wooster, Series Two
adapted by Clive Exton, dir. Simon Langton (ITV, 1991)
Clive Exton hits his adaptive stride, taking plot lines from various of the Jeeves & Wooster novels and short stories and stitching them into familiar (yet pleasingly independent) single-episode treatments. Hugh Laurie’s iteration really is the perfect multiversal embodiment of Bertie Wooster.
Flash Gordon, Season 1
(NBC, 1979-1980)
Insufferably trite, 16-episode peril-per-minute space opera adventure serial, notable for: less-than-cut-price animation; objectified though strong-willed, powerful women; zero changes of wardrobe; and the endless gung-ho optimism of thick-necked, bull-at-the-gate hero Flash Gordon. Worthwhile only for its memorable SF backdrops and vehicle designs.
Chess: Master the Moves
by Leonard Barden; ill. G. Domenech (Chancerel, 1977)
A bizarre if collectible primer aimed at beginners but intelligible only to experienced players, its wisdom delivered through fine-detailed comic-strip illustrations where mediaeval knights discuss strategy, and condescending coach Steve wows chess groupie Sonya (and then an entire harem!). Oh, the 1970s…
Rumpole for the Defence
by John Mortimer; audiobook read by Bill Wallis (Bolinda, 2016)
originally “Regina v. Rumpole” (Allen Lane, 1981)
Seven further trials, adapted from the 1980 BBC Radio series (plus one Play for Today). Behind Rumpole’s cynical bluster and his numerous personal and professional setbacks, Mortimer offers up ingenious case studies in legal defence. Bill Wallis’s audiobook reading is superbly Rumpole-like.
The Secret of Moon Castle
by Enid Blyton (Basil Blackwell, 1953) [Armada, 1991]
![Book cover: “The Secret of Moon Castle” by Enid Blyton (Basil Blackwell, 1953) [Armada, 1991]](https://www.derelictspacesheep.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Blyton_Secret-Moon-Castle.jpg)
Blyton’s ‘Secret’ series ends with a bit of a whimper. The villain is unambiguous and the mystery entails a nebulous mining scheme that, Scooby-Doo style, would have remained hidden if not for his trying to scare the kids off with manufactured spookery.
Maid Marian and her Merry Men, Series 1
by Tony Robinson; dir. David Bell (BBC, 1989)
One-of-a-kind children’s comedy with a penchant for slow-rapped beatbox scene-setting (courtesy of Danny John-Jules). Episodes rattle along through a gamut of small-scale absurdisms, over-the-top, self-aware characters, corny anachronisms and genuine wit. Tony Robinson brings Blackadder vibes as the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham.