Short Trips: The 7 Deadly Sins

Of the three Short Trips collections I have read so far, I think this one has impressed me the most. The conceit—contributed by David Bailey and the ever-agile Jacqueline Rayner—is a brilliant one, only slowly revealed. I felt quite put off by Bailey’s foreword (perhaps because it reminded me of “Love & Monsters”) but as I read on, it all made sense. I began to realize that “the showman” from the Introduction was the Eighth Doctor, though the whole set-up smacked of the Seventh Doctor’s fondness for manipulation. Overall, I got a huge sense of knowing fun from the writers, probably because they were part of an integrated whole rather than random stories.

I have to say Gareth Wigmore has not left an impressive track record with me. His story for Sloth, “The Duke’s Folly,” is the weakest contribution to the book (in my opinion). While the idea of Ian as an Old West sharp-shooter and Barbara as London society’s “Lady Foreman” is an appealing one, there doesn’t seem much of a story here (the pot calling the kettle black?!). I have difficulty believing the First Doctor would have invested so much time in “Little David,” and that he would send Ian and Susan off on a trans-Atlantic mission with next-to-no motive (though I like that they pass through Santa Fe!). There’s a good deal of exposition given in long speeches, and I think the narrator’s assessment of Ian’s accent—a none-too-good Wild West accent taken from a thousand B-movies—applies to the whole Wild West plot. The handle on the Doctor’s character, as well, seems quite sloppy compared to The Time Travellers.

Mark Wright’s dreadfully-titled “That Which Went Away” is actually quite an enjoyable Second Doctor story. It represents Wrath, with Jamie and Zoe hanging around for the ride. In Jamie’s case, however, the effects of wrath are a bit more up close and personal (I have to say I guessed what was happening because I knew the name ‘Bior’ meant ‘bear’)! I really like the setting—eighth-century Scandinavia, ‘it’s probably more correct to call these chaps barbarians’—and it’s atmospheric. The Doctor and his companions are characterized deftly, especially as Jamie starts developing his own opinions and threatens to stay while Zoe and the Doctor return to the TARDIS. All in all, it’s a well-written story—and I’m down for anything that strips Jamie to the waist—heh!

Tara Simms has quite the twisted mind, but she does write some of the most unique DW pieces I’ve ever read. Her story on Envy, “Angel,” uses first person narration (again, from a slightly tawdry, unhappy woman) and seems to swirl in and out of reality. However, the premise of the story is pretty awesome—a dying woman upon whose body messages appear, in this case the knowledge of time travel that’s been denied the Third Doctor in his Earthbound years. Simms writes the Third Doctor well, something I have to, uh, envy.
I have to admit I was puzzled as to how the collection was going to tackle Lust, not a vice that shows up in DW much (or didn’t, until Captain Jack). Paul Magrs’ “Suitors, Inc.,” is a roaringly funny romp that is about as silly as some fan fiction I’ve read, but I won’t fault it because it’s just so fun. In it, the Fourth Doctor, a very puzzled Romana, and a rather overpompous parody of K9 arrive in 1979 to discover “frisky” Time Lady Iris Wildthyme (I believe she was in some of the early Eighth Doctor novels?) has manufactured “EroticDoctorBots.” I think you can see where this is going. ‘What have you read in Cosmo, K9?’ ‘This,’ he said simply. It was a two-page advert for a new brand of aftershave for men. Instead of the usual brawny hairy chest and denim shirt that one might reasonably expect in such a spread . . . Romana found herself staring at a photo of a model in rather scruffy tweeds and a singed-looking multi-coloured scarf. (Tom Baker once said there should have been armies of grateful people all dressed like the Doctor, following him around.) Add to it Sarah Jane and Harry—‘I’m not sure I’ve met your delectable man friend before. I must congratulate him on his sideburns’—and a cat named Binky . . . The story never resolves, but that’s okay. I expected a chorus line of old ladies from The Producers any second. To be sure, the funniness of all this is doubled by the fact that the Tenth Doctor IS a sex symbol—at least for teeny bopper girls and . . . er . . . me.

John Binns contributes a thoughtful, carefully-written story that only falters at its anti-climactic ending. It’s “The 57th,” a story for Pride, and quite a surprising take on a vice that, as the Doctor admits, touches a little close to home. I found the opening written a little bluntly, but the story—of a mysterious duplicate who arrives at a research station, to which the Fifth Doctor and Nyssa are sent to investigate—quite interesting. It had a very contemporary feel, and yet at the same time the Fifth Doctor was written very true to form. I know Nyssa was chosen as one of the least favorite companions on some survey or other, but she’s well-written here—A sudden sensation hit him then, a potent blend of deep affecting and concern. Not for the first time, he had to remind himself that Nyssa was still very young, and very vulnerable . . . He wanted to hug her, but it didn’t seem right. I just wish the ending wasn’t such a let-down!

David Bailey gets the Sixth Doctor to work with, and with him weaves Frame Story #1 in Avarice, “Telling Tales.” As a story on its own, it’s a bit too fragmented, but in the context of the collection, it’s quite brilliant. If I tried to tell it, I’d get hopelessly confused, but it does involve the Doctor’s adventures being a source of entertainment/misery for millions, and sets up the “machinery” for Frame Story #2, which I’ll get to in a minute. I find that generally writers who tackle the Sixth Doctor do with empathy, which I always appreciate. Bailey gets his outrage and self-importance—‘There are many, many more powerful threats in the universe than you, Doctor.’ ‘Well,’ he replied, a little deflated. ‘That’s as may be . . .’—but also his introspection. He also gets Peri at her funniest, sometimes hard to do: ‘That’s just what I was trying to . . .ah.’ ‘Ah? Good ah or bad ah?’

I was rather impressed by Rebecca Levene’s Seventh Doctor story, “Too Rich for My Blood,” which represented my own closest sin, Gluttony. I’d never read anything with Bernice Summerfield in it and I don’t know who this Chris fellow is, but they’re both take-charge companions. The Doctor, mysterious as ever, can even leave them alone in Las Vegas while he traipses dark hallways and broods. Who can’t be impressed by a story set in a casino that references Roswell and creates a very impressive new breed of zombies whose metabolism is sped up by taking alien serum?—He was damned if he was going to die here, killed by a hot-dog-eating champion. I enjoyed it.

I confess I don’t know why David Bailey didn’t write the linking bits himself, but I’m glad it’s Jacqueline Rayner who contributes Frame Story #2, since she rarely supplies the sub-par. The story involves the Eighth Doctor gathering living effigies of the Seven Deadly Sins in order to short out the Machine in Frame Story #1. There’s some great stuff in these short bits, from the Doctor trying to get the most slothful man in the universe to defuse a bomb, to his taunting a fellow Time Lord with the remark, ‘I’m not entirely sure how many times I’ve saved the universe now. You stop counting after the first two or three.’ From an automaton/human being programmed as Pooh-Bah from The Mikado to a send-up of celebrity chefs (‘ . . . I was sometimes accused of gluttony back then—but, without wanting to get all self-defensive, it simply wasn’t true. Love of cake does not a glutton make, as you might say. A fondness for pie needn’t make you sigh. Et cetera, et cetera’). And a personal favorite, the outrageously sexy narration when a vampire queen wants the Doctor’s blood. I could quote most of it, but I won’t.

If nothing else, this is a very optimistic collection because it illustrates the Doctor’s belief that doing something to combat evil, even if it creates problems, is better than doing nothing. ‘. . . I have never given up walking onwards, forcing myself to take one step after another, however rocky the road.’