Retrospective: BBC Books’ The Banquo Legacy

Simon Danes is a writer at Kasterborous Doctor Who News and Reviews - All the latest Doctor Who news and reviews with our weekly podKast, features and interviews, and a long-running forum.

My great claim to fame is my connection to Justin Richards.

Back in 1980, I co-edited a fanzine called Fendahl. We once ran a charity raffle; John Nathan-Turner generously sent us a box of stuff that had been used on TV, including Tyssan’s nylon rope: as you watch the story, you will see Tim Barlow carrying said item in Destiny of the Daleks. This marvellous and highly prized artefact was won by none other than Justin Richards. Thus I claim celebrity and recognition that shall never die.

Justin Richards is also one of the best of the Doctor Who spin-off novelists; he doesn’t disappoint here, either, where he’s joined by Andy Lane (another good spin-off Who writer) as co-author. The book’s narrated in the first person by two witnesses to the events: Inspector Ian Stratford, and John Hopkinson. (One assumes Justin wrote one, and Andy wrote the other.) Narrative devices like this can be pretentious and can go badly wrong; there’s always the danger of the ‘look at me, aren’t I clever?’ syndrome, which irritates intensely and gets in the way of just telling the story. When it’s done well, it’s very effective, and it’s similarly very effective here. First person narratives are great ‘pulls’ into the world of the story (one of the reasons why Doctor Who and the Daleks is probably the best of the TV novelisations). The original novel of Dracula is told by multiple narrators; the period and tone is similar to Banquo Manor, so it’s a possible influence. And the narrators are believable people, well characterised and with their own distinctive voices.

And it’s another belter of a novel. Except…

I don’t like Compassion. No, I don’t mean I don’t like compassion. I don’t like Compassion. (This is a most amusing joke that has never been used before. Read on and you’ll comprehend my burblings.)

A running theme of the Eighth Doctor novels is that something’s gone badly wrong with the TARDIS and it becomes unusable: lost, blown up, or generally utterly knackered for various tedious reasons. For quite a few of them, the Doctor has a replacement TARDIS – and she’s sentient, she’s called Compassion, she looks human, and she acts as a companion in her own right.

I never really felt this concept worked. Taking the proper TARDIS away from the Doctor is like taking Morecambe away from Wise, or Laurel from Hardy. They’re a double act and they have to be together. Nor does it feel right if the TARDIS looks like Nicole Kidman rather than a police box (one of the books – I forget which – said she looks like that, and that’s a bit silly, really).

The other problem is that Compassion’s a fairly unlikeable character. While this does produce some dramatic exchanges, as her morality’s far from that of the Doctor’s, it makes it hard to sympathise with her. It’s hard to care what happens to characters who you don’t like. Compassion’s spiky, selfish, and unpleasant. Idris, she ain’t. And you keep wanting the proper TARDIS back, not some snide, sexy substitute.

That said, the presence of Compassion in the novel is its only real drawback. And there’s always the splendid Fitz Kreiner to compensate: a well-meaning, slightly dodgy, grungy chap who combines incompetence with genuine warmth. (And someone who, unlike Compassion, would work well on TV.) Much of the book’s humour – and it’s genuinely funny, too – comes from him. He and the Doctor pose as scientific investigators, under the names of Doctor Friedlander and Herr Kreiner. (Fitz is half German, you see.)

The Doctor and Fitz land on Earth in 1898. Compassion’s chameleon circuit makes her meld with Susan Seymour, a guest at Banquo Manor. (Aha! The clue’s in the name. Banquo was murdered by Macbeth’s henchmen and his ghost causes a bit of a social embarrassment when it turns up at the Macbeths’ banquet. Expect something nasty to happen in the book, then.) The melding’s not a bad idea; it provides some good moments when the dual personality switches between Compassion and Susan, making her alternatively bitchy and then nice – but surely invading someone’s body without their consent, as Compassion does, is a violation? I’d be bloody annoyed if someone jumped inside my head without asking.

It’s a bit odd that neither the Doctor nor Fitz draw attention to this. But never mind, because there are exciting and nasty things going on. Susan’s fiancé is an obsessive scientist called Richard Harries, the owner of the Manor, who’s experimenting with telepathy. Never a good idea. It releases dark forces among the guests who’ve gathered to witness his experiments, and they’re stalked by some deeply vicious beings.

The enclosed setting gives you a variant of the ‘base under siege’ story; the Manor’s effectively cut off from civilisation by heavy snow, and there’s no possibility of help from outside. And there’s a mysterious butler whose pantry seems to be bigger on the inside than you’d expect it to be…

I don’t want to give too much away about the plot, because that would spoil it when you read it. Enough to say that The Banquo Legacy is a real page-turner: well-written, involving, and with a strong story. (And, I fear, a considerably stronger story than many from the first televised Capaldi series. The production team might do well to look at the novels for more tales which deserve the Human Nature treatment. Controversial? Me?)

Highly recommended. Dust down your copy or grab one from eBay or Amazon. Take it to the beach this summer. You’ll enjoy it much more than booze, sand or sea.

Yes, you will.

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