Kiss Me Kate, Series 1
by Chris Langham & John Morton (BBC, 1998)
A delightfully droll, oft-overlooked British sitcom that sails along on character interplay and comic timing. Perfectly cast with Caroline Quentin playing a sardonic counsellor, Chris Langham her deadpan colleague, Amanda Holden their naïve receptionist, and Darren Boyd their affable but dim-witted co-tenant.
Raison D’Etre
by Timothy Zahn, Analog (October, 1981), pp. 94-109.
SF short story envisaging an off-books government project where comatose, telepathic/telekinetic infants, kept like battery hens, have their powers harnessed to neutralise radioactive waste. While Zahn presents a challenging moral dilemma, the first-person segments (one subject’s burgeoning awareness) make for laborious reading.
Monkey, Series 2
(Nippon, 1979-1980)
Half the episodes were adapted into English only for the 2004 DVD release, the step-down in quality highlighting the sublime mastery of David Weir’s original work. The second-string opening and closing themes are spirit-dampening missteps (though ‘Holy and Bright’ has its charms).
Men at Arms
by Terry Pratchett (Victor Gollancz, 1993)
audiobook read by Nigel Planer (Isis, 1996)
A consistently funny mystery scripted like a jigsaw puzzle. The sidelining of Vimes affords space for the new watchmen (Angua, Detritus, Cuddy) to shine, and for Carrot—so often reduced to a walk-on support role—to have his day in the sun.
Love Story in Three Acts
by David Gerrold
Nova One, ed. Harry Harrison (Delacorte, 1970); reprinted (Sphere, 1975), pp. 111-123.
SF short story. Gerrold’s two-hander sees a jaded couple hook themselves up to a ‘guidance model’ to improve their lacklustre lovemaking. Cue the retrospectively tame sex scene. Regrettably, the protagonists are banal archetypes, the ending a telegraphed twist (spoiler: the placebo effect).
The Quiet Woman
by Christopher Priest (Bloomsbury, 1990)
audiobook read by Jane Collingwood (Bolinda, 2016)
Granted, speculative fiction should contrast the everyday with the unreal; but Priest takes ‘everyday’ to banal extremes, and his ‘unreal’ is merely a half-baked melange of surveillance state and mental breakdown. A book-length, autological lament/sneer at the state of the publishing industry.
A Present From Joe
by Eric Frank Russell
Astounding Science Fiction (February 1949); reprinted Best sf: Science Fiction Stories, ed. Edmund Crispin (Faber and Faber, 1955), pp. 199-213.
SF short story. In his inimitable, puckish manner, Russell attributes mankind’s warlike propensities to the telepathically induced manipulations of a non-spacefaring alien race whose invasion plan requires humanity first to come to them! The aliens’ POV reveals a Machiavellian kinship of thought.
The New Wine
by John Christopher
from The Twenty-Second Century (Grayson & Grayson, 1954); reprinted Best sf: Science Fiction Stories, ed. Edmund Crispin (Faber and Faber, 1955), pp. 168-182.
SF short story that starts off exploring the emotional ramifications of time dilation (for a couple soon to be separated), before segueing into a threnody on reckless, irreversible scientific experimentation (induced telepathy). Sombre food for thought, undermined by a token twist ending.
The Dead Shall Be Raised
by George Bellairs (John Gifford, 1942)
audiobook read by Ric Jerrom (Isis, 2017)
Bellairs writes with literary pretensions and a faux-waggish jocularity, intent on scoring points off his cast of village stereotypes. While thus engaged, he leaves Inspector Littlejohn to follow basic leads and listen to confessions. A paltry, self-solving mystery with only one suspect.
A Thief in Time
by Robert Sheckley, Galaxy Science Fiction (July, 1954); UK No. 21 (December, 1954), pp. 4-27.
A light-hearted romp but the time travel paradox isn’t explored so much as indulged in, ad hoc, until (it feels) Sheckley rollicked his word count up to novelette length and the editor had enough pages filled to put a stop to it.