The Kidnappers Upstairs
by Eileen Rosenbaum (Scholastic, 1968)
The premise is not without appeal, yet the main characters remain undeveloped and the story unfolds in such a way that it is neither exciting nor fun. The ending is a study in ill-considered let-down (apparently anticipating a sequel, which never eventuated).
The Rilloby Fair Mystery
by Enid Blyton (William Collins, 1950)
The second ‘Barney’ mystery doesn’t really make good on its potential (in truth rather solving itself in the end) but Blyton lays down clues throughout and the children’s day-to-day adventuring makes for pleasant escapism. Blyton’s integration of animals makes the book memorable.
Soul Music
by Terry Pratchett (Victor Gollancz, 1994); audiobook read by Nigel Planer (Isis, 1996)
Though chock full of rock ‘n’ roll allusions and puns, Soul Music is a rarity amongst the Discworld novels in that it isn’t really about anything. Witty and imaginative and still amusing on a micro level, yes, but by Pratchett’s standards underwhelming.
The New Shoe
by Arthur W. Upfield (Doubleday, 1951); audiobook read by Peter Hosking (Bolinda, 2010)
A beautiful piece of Australiana and a preserved character study—both of the small coastal town and its inhabitants, and of half-caste Aboriginal detective Napoleon Bonaparte. Upfield’s prose is methodical yet poetically descriptive. Bony is a protagonist with unique methods and appeal.
Doctor Who: The Macra Terror
by Ian Stuart Black; dir. John Davies (BBC, 1967/2019)
While lost Doctor Who stories often work well just in audio form, significant portions of The Macra Terror unfold without dialogue – making it an astute choice for reconstruction. Patrick Troughton’s Doctor and the titular giant crabs fare particularly well in the animation.
Chronicler of the Winds
by Henning Mankell; trans. Tiina Nunnally (Harvill Secker, 2006); from “Comédia Infantil (Ordfronts Förlag, 1995)
Mankell’s alluring prose contrasts with his grim subject matter in this dreamy, darkly evocative description of daily life in an unnamed African port city, and particularly of its impoverished street children. Authorial skill notwithstanding, the overall effect is more despairing than hopeful.
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
by Arthur Conan Doyle (George Newnes, 1892); audiobook read by Stephen Fry (ABC, 2017)
The first and arguably most accomplished batch of Sherlock Holmes short stories. The cases are consistently ingenious and Holmes is full of a vitality that Conan Doyle would not always muster. Stephen Fry reads with the obvious relish of a lifelong fan.
Sapphire & Steel, Assignment 3
by P. J. Hammond (ITV, 1981)
Joanna Lumley (Sapphire) and David McCallum (Steel) return for six more episodes of atmospheric, paranormal mystery and suspense. Much rests on the close but edgy dynamic between the two, as the evil force turns out on this occasion to be… somewhat unbelievable.
Asterix and the Laurel Wreath
by Goscinny & Uderzo; trans. Anthea Bell & Derek Hockridge (Orion, 1974); from Les Lauriers de César (Pilote, 1971)
One of Goscinny’s more droll stories (a critique of Imperial Rome as witnessed when Asterix and Obelix sell themselves as slaves) done full justice by Uderzo’s distinctive illustration—exquisite attention to background detail coupled with colourful, caricatured portrayals of action and emotions.
Smokey and the Bandit
dir. Hal Needham (1977)
With B-movie aspirations yet a Star Wars-like box-office-to-budget ratio, Smokey and the Bandit goes down as one of the unlikeliest hits ever. Burt Reynolds was paid $1 million but whatever value there is comes from Jerry Reed and Fred the Basset Hound.