Iznogoud and the Magic Computer
by Goscinny; ill. Tabary (Cinebook, 2009) [from ‘Iznogoud et l’ordinateur magique’, 1970]
Five pun-filled stories featuring the nefarious Iznogoud, oft-thwarted scourge of ancient Baghdad. Goscinny overdoes the wordplay and undercooks the characterisation while Tabary’s panels evoke a clutter, not a treasure trove, of detail. (Admittedly his camels and elephants make for comic haute cuisine.)
Sinister Barrier
by Eric Frank Russell (The World’s Work, 1943)
Russell’s first novel evinces nothing of his later puckishness. Instead it is a hardboiled SF invasion yarn that reads well under its own steam but less so when the characters act as mouthpieces for Russell’s Fortean beliefs, which informed the chilling concept.
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
by Douglas Adams (Heinemann, 1987)
Rushed ending aside, this is a consummate piece of genre creation. Adams crafts a supernatural SF detective story with gorgeous (often subtle) pieces of interconnectedness, Doctor Who rehash and zany bits of faux-throwaway, all brought together by the late-appearing protagonist. Improbably brilliant.
The Mystery of the Disappearing Cat
by Enid Blyton (Methuen, 1944)
In this second book, Blyton still has the Five Find-Outers (and dog) as a fairly generic group of kids happening upon a mystery and solving it largely through happenstance. A spot of Goon-baiting aside, they are yet to come into their own.
Fugitive From Time
by Philip E. High (Hale, 1978)
High’s novels were too often marred by instalove and sparse, wince-inducing female representation. His wellspring of SF ideas, however, cannot help but fire the imagination. Fugitive From Time is a fever dream of implacable alien menace, anti-war imagery and humanity’s metamorphosic coming-of-age.
The Mystery of the Burnt Cottage
by Enid Blyton (Methuen, 1943)
The first Five Find-Outers novel works well as a standalone, though lacking the assuredness and personality of later volumes. As Blyton feels her way, many elements of this great series emerge in nascent form. Only Fatty’s disguises (and latterly Ern) are missing.
The Prime Minister’s Brain
by Gillian Cross (Oxford University Press, 1987)
A worthy sequel to The Demon Headmaster. The subverting of free will looms once again as a terrifying middle-grade threat, to be countered by a group of (argumentative, bickering) friends all of whom bring different attributes and foibles to bear. Addictive reading.
The Red House Mystery
by A. A. Milne (Methuen, 1922); audiobook read by Bill Wallis (Bolinda, 2015)
Wodehouse without the humour. Milne takes some time to work his way into this murder mystery, almost as if he’s envisaging it as a play rather than a novel. A good read once it gets going, especially as performed by Bill Wallis.
Star Quest: Terrorsaur!
by Terrance Dicks (W. H. Allen, 1981)
Dicks concludes his Star Quest trilogy with a fast-moving but inconsequential adventure. The young protagonists are reunited with their friends from the first book and defeat the same enemies—hapless space supremacists—thanks to some guff about a possibly sentient planet-wide ecology.
Doctor Who: Illegal Alien
by Mike Tucker & Robert Perry (BBC, 1997); audiobook read by Sophie Aldred (Bolinda, 2016)
Blandly written and at least twice as long as it needed to be. Great chunks of the story involve treading water, running around pointlessly, and building up characters (both major and minor) that turn out to be nothing more than gross stereotypes.