All You Zombies and Other Stories
by Robert A. Heinlein; audiobook read by Spider Robinson (Blackstone, 2014)
Although lacking the plot progression, character arcs and no-frills brevity mandated by modern editors—for shame!—these five Heinlein stories demonstrate the engaging effect of powerful ideas wrapped in real narrative personality (and additionally, through Spider Robinson, a bona fide storyteller’s delivery).
The Nursing Home Murder
by Ngaio Marsh (Geoffrey Bles, 1935); audiobook read by James Saxon (AudioGO, 2010)
The nursing home (to the modern reader, operating theatre) murder is quite diverting once it gathers steam. Unfortunately, the first fifth of the book is groundwork. Inspector Alleyn—himself unimpeachable—is a late arrival and has to recover ground already laboriously trodden.
Mardoc
by Ronald A. McQueen (Hale, 1981)
Unintentionally reactivated by a corrupt corporate government, a genetically engineered sleeper agent (think James Cameron’s Dark Angel) sets out to topple the established order. McQueen’s novel is a curious yet memorable mix of SF politics and super-powered insurgency. Intriguing, though plainly written.
Doctor Who: The Mind Robber
by Peter Ling (Target, 1986); audiobook read by Derek Jacobi (BBC, 2010)
Peter Ling’s only Doctor Who novelisation is more competently written than many in the Target range. As a Wonderland homage, however, and as a pioneering work of metatextualism, the story trots out (and bottoms out on) visual flourishes better suited to television.
Small Gods
by Terry Pratchett (Victor Gollancz, 1992); audiobook read by Nigel Planer (Isis, 1997)
Pratchett’s one-off Discworld novels were often rather special, and such is the case with this exposé on organised religion. The (formerly) Great God Om finds himself unwillingly manifested as a tortoise with only one follower. Nigel Planer is exquisite in his narration.
The Coming of the Fairies
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Hodder and Stoughton, 1922)
It isn’t Doyle’s beliefs that grate in this tract; it’s his plodding insistence on presenting facts via formal correspondence. Even when addressing himself to the reader, Doyle assays a monotonous inveiglement, showing nothing of the literary warmth so beloved of his fiction.
Rebecca
by Daphne du Maurier (Victor Gollancz, 1938); audiobook read by Anna Massey (Bolinda, 2014)
As the newly wedded narrator—tellingly unnamed—struggles to find her place in the shadow of her husband’s deceased first wife, Rebecca, the upper crust splits apart and a slow-burning plot takes hold, the writing as beautiful and alluring as Manderley itself.
The Time Mercenaries
by Philip E. High (Dobson, 1969)
The anachronistic juxtaposition promises much—a submarine crew, fighting instincts still intact, is resurrected to defend a future civilisation of genetically ordained pacifists from alien invasion—but the premise is too quickly cast aside; the captain and his men become largely superfluous.
Three to Conquer
by Eric Frank Russell (Avalon, 1956)
Russell selectively breeds two SF storylines — alien body snatchers and telepathic outsider — to produce a memorable invasion tale, told in the manner of hardboiled detective fiction (itself melding lone wolf with FBI manhunt). Cited for possible adaptation during Doctor Who’s planning stages.
Doctor Who: Fury From the Deep
by Victor Pemberton (Target, 1986)
Having opened on a well-staged cliffhanger, Pemberton proceeds with a workmanlike retelling of this lost serial, contented more or less to prosify his own script. Off-screen as on-, his only feat of note is the puckish metatextualising of Doctor Who’s screaming companion.