Johnny and the Dead
by Terry Pratchett (Doubleday, 1993); audiobook read by Richard Mitchley (Chivers, 2001)
Inspired by the real-life selling off of cemeteries in Westminister, Pratchett brings back middle-grade protagonist Johnny Maxwell (Only You Can Save Mankind) in this droll commentary on modern society (as it was in 1993) and earnest entreaty that history’s value be recognised.
Sapphire & Steel, Assignment 6
by P. J. Hammond (ITV, 1982)
The series’ much-vaunted 4-part conclusion. Hammond takes his characters out in style, concocting an eerie, unsettling scenario for Sapphire and Steel (and Silver) to unravel. Unfortunately, the trap’s convoluted outer layer proves unconnected to the springing of the more deadly trap within.
Deadman Switch
by Timothy Zahn (Baen, 1988)
Zahn melds SF concept (navigation requires a recently deceased pilot; spaceships carry two death-row felons) to moral quandary (one ‘zombie’ pilot has been wrongly convicted). The novel goes through several phase shifts exploring the wider value of maintaining a small human focus.
The Seven Crystal Balls
by Hergé (Casterman, 1948); trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1962)
Working during the German occupation of Belgium, Hergé steered clear of political commentary and showcased instead his developing mastery of action adventure, leavened here with an abundance of slapstick (and not a little Fortean mysticism). Part one of a classic two-story arc.
The Rubadub Mystery
by Enid Blyton (Collins, 1952)
In this fourth ‘Barney’ mystery, Blyton perfects the formula of having a mystery unfold around her young protagonists, to be fallen into as much as investigated. The clues appear innocuous for much of the story and then come together in a rush.
Doctor Who: Fury From the Deep
by Victor Pemberton; dir. Hugh David (BBC, 1968/2020)
This lost story always had good wraps—a tightly written, claustrophobic six-parter bolstered by Dudley Simpson’s tense score (and a resolution that validates the screaming companion!). Its rebirth in animated form makes for a welcome addition, albeit that Troughton remains quintessentially inimitable.
The Complete Peanuts: 1985-1986
by Charles M. Schulz (Fantagraphics, 2012)
Snoopy’s brother Spike remains a weak link and Tapioca Pudding is beyond doubt a character experiment gone badly wrong. Desert strips and pointless riffs notwithstanding, Schulz crosses the mid-80s with vigour, sharing his attention amongst old favourites and tapping rich new veins.
Lord Emsworth and Others
by P. G. Wodehouse (Herbert Jenkins, 1937)
Nine short stories evincing Wodehouse’s usual joie de vivre and knack for comedic happenstance, yet, save for ‘The Crime Wave at Blandings’, lacking closure, giving instead the impression of half-conceptualised novels (or subplots thereof) cut down in the mid stages of drafting.
The Sign of the Four
by Arthur Conan Doyle (Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, 1890); audiobook read by Stephen Fry (ABC Audio, 2017)
A bravura second outing for Holmes and Watson, once again deflated by a lengthy coda in which neither man features. An important novel for having affirmed the strength of these two characters, and for indicating that Conan Doyle should prefer short stories.
Design for Great-Day
by Eric Frank Russell (Planet Stories, January 1953); subsequently republished as ‘The Ultimate Invader’ [Novella]
In several of his stories Russell took delight in sending up blinkered authority. In this novella he endowed his protagonist not only with the usual insouciance but also the ethical clout of a highly advanced multi-species commune. At first rib-tickling, then earnest.