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Dear Dave,

I wonder just how you feel, deep down inside, about the way the last couple of days have gone. Normally I would be one of the last people to express concern for your well-being or mental state, but now… Well, look, I know everyone who goes into public life and politics probably has at least one eye on posterity and how they will be remembered by future generations, so I expect this has occurred to you already, but I just feel the need to remind you that (as things currently stand) you stand a very good chance of going down in history as the man who destroyed the United Kingdom and dissolved the post-war settlement both here and on the continent. How do you feel about that, Dave?

european-union-eu-flag-missing-star-brexit

The ironic thing, of course, is that this is the exact opposite to what you actually wanted. The opposite of your stated intentions, at least, and I must confess I do doubt your ability to consistently lie so convincingly. You promised people a vote on Europe in the hopes of preserving unity, and as a result the UK and its people have ended up tearing themselves apart. Nice work, fella.

Is it worth repeating the narrative that this is all on some level the result of Charles Kennedy’s alcoholism? Both the promise of the vote and the fact you found yourself in the awkward position of having to keep that promise are on some level consequences of the Lib Dem’s deeply unwise participation in the coalition government, which would have been unimaginable under the leadership of someone more in touch with the traditional ties between the different progressive parties, like Kennedy. You might want to run one more public health campaign on how alcoholism wrecks lives before handing over to Boris, Dave. Just a thought.

It’s all a bit academic now, though, of course. For whatever reason, there you were, trapped in a coalition with the Lib Dems which it seemed like only you and Nick Clegg really wanted – watching the pair of you often put me in mind of two men in free fall, fighting over a parachute – blasted by the left for the simple cruelty and cynicism of your economic policies, blasted by the right for the progressiveness of some of your social policies, Mr Toad snapping at your heels and threatening to steal all your supporters and MPs for his UKIP bandwagon, the old Tory faultline juddering and shuddering – Europe, Europe, Europe.

Things looked bleak. The Tories seemed likely to tear themselves apart. You couldn’t go down in history as the man who split the Tory party, could you? So promise them a referendum. That’d shut them up, for the time being at least. But promise it for after the next general election, the one which you knew you had no real chance of winning outright. You’re a politician, no-one seriously expects you to deliver on your promises. It was a sticking plaster on a deep wound, but it would do the trick.

But then, of course, the Tory press ground into action, those great engines of loathing and fear which hate you and think they own you. You had reckoned without them, and without the fact that the Lib Dems would be quite so devastated in the election, and the fact that the SNP would be quite so buoyed by your perceived lies in the last independence referendum campaign that Labour would lose its Scottish heartlands. And you found you had won that unwinnable election after all, and were obliged to give the people at your back their prize.

Still, I expect I know what you were thinking – this will be close, but every sane person will stand up for Remain. When the paucity of the case for leaving becomes apparent, people will understand there is only one sensible option for a forward-looking UK.

Of course, you had forgotten that for many people who are mildly unhappy with their lives, any election is an opportunity to reflexively kick against the status quo – one could argue that the whole UK electoral system is founded on the principle that a minority of people are going to switch parties every few elections, regardless of policy or ideology. And perhaps you had underestimated the extent to which we now live in a post-factual world, where reason takes a back seat to simple instinctive emotionalism – ‘we have had enough of experts,’ said your former education secretary and (former?) friend, whether consciously or not giving voice to the anti-vax, anti-evolution, anti-climate change mindset. But could you really have forgotten that the Tory press was also out there?

You know the Tory press well enough. It exists not to tell people the news but to educate them on how it believes they should think. It serves not the interests of the people who fund it by buying newspapers and satellite TV but those of the cabal of rich men who own it. Pulling the UK out of the EU is very good news for them, for they despise all those protections and rights the EU has given to workers and unimportant poor people. Destabilising the European project suits them very nicely. That they could take your head as well, post-Leveson, would be an added bonus.

But they couldn’t campaign for departure on an ‘it will make rich people richer’ basis, which is why we had week upon week of dog-whistle scare stories about immigrants coming, and EU waste, and undeported criminals, and immigrants coming, and Eurocrat arrogance, and immigrants coming. Much of it not true, or totally irrelevant to the vote, but enough to scare people and create the right climate of uncertain hostility. The people responsible don’t care about these things, know that they are trading in lies, but they did enough to get what they wanted: the UK heading for departure. Europe itself gripped by uncertainty. You, off into well-paid millionaire obscurity.

So what does the future hold? (Not for you personally, of course – you’ll be all right, that was never in doubt, though I wouldn’t hold my breath for many sympathetic biographies.) Division in Labour, with Corbyn under attack for his role in the recent disaster. Division in Europe, with other sceptic groups demanding their own referenda. Division in England, with the capital and the provinces, the educated and the ill-informed, the young and the old, seemingly irreparably split. The prospect of division in the UK itself, with a further Scottish independence referendum on the cards – perhaps the ghost of a chance of one in Northern Ireland, too.

(Of course, one consequence of Scottish independence – and I note that this is something your lot are very careful not to mention in public – is that it would practically guarantee Tory hegemony over the rest of the UK, at least in the short to medium term. As we saw in last year’s great disaster, without a strong showing north of the border, Labour will never be able to challenge for a Commons majority, so in some ways the end of the UK as we know it would be very good news for your party, even though the grim right-wing wasteland it would propel the rest of us English people into scarcely bears thinking about.)

But, you know what, there is one place where people seem to be… well, not quite coming together, but at least not trying to tear each other apart with quite the usual gusto. The Tory party’s lethal instinct for power and survival seems to be as strong as ever. Perhaps you have managed to lance the European boil for them, Dave, although not many people are happy about your method of doing so. Perhaps the Tories will become united in a way they haven’t really been since the days of the old hag queen. If so, your plan succeeded. You have managed to unify your party after all. Never mind that there has been a degree of collateral damage on a potentially historic, potentially global scale, maybe you will in fact be remembered as the leader who made the Tory party whole again.

I wouldn’t bet on it, though.

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A bit of a change of pace, but I think it’s desperately important these people are stood up to.

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Which weighs more, a ton of oranges or a ton of feathers? It’s a trick question, of course: they are, in one respect at least, equal. But not identical: I know which one I’d prefer to nibble on – and which one I’d choose to nap upon, for that matter. I think this distinction between the ideas of identity and equality is an important one, too often overlooked.

This has been brought to mind by, of all things, the fall-out from the Sony hacking scandal, one of the consequences of which has been Sony relinquishing its death grip on the Spider-Man movie rights license and agreeing upon a sort of time-share agreement with the people at Marvel Studios itself. And one of the consequences of this looks like being the sacking of Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man’s on-screen embodiment, with open season being declared on recasting the character.

The internet has reacted to all of this with its usual restraint and objectivity. (Apologies, by the way, to any of the friends who’ve already seen me articulating some of the impending opinions in a different venue, and indeed to anyone who feels I misrepresent views which I disagree with.) One of the issues is – I am tempted to say ‘inevitably’ – that of diversity, and the possibility of casting a non-Caucasian performer as Spider-Man’s alter ego.

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There is a wrinkle here. The casual movie-goer may be very aware of Spider-Man’s best known secret identity, Peter Parker, who has been a fairly middle-class straight white dude since 1962 – said movie-goer may indeed be sick to death of him, given there have been five Spider-Man movies since 2002. Rather less familiar, however, may be Miles Morales, a parallel-universe version of Spider-Man who’s been around since 2011. The key difference is that Morales is, ethnically speaking, black-Hispanic.

So it’s not just a question of whether the new Spidey should be white or not, but whether they go with the Parker or Morales character. There are, I would say, sound reasons for going with both versions: Peter Parker is almost as famous a character as Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent, with the kind of audience investment that goes with this. On the other hand, using Miles Morales could spare us yet another instance of Uncle Ben taking a bullet, in addition to inevitably garnering some publicity for the change of character, and, yes, increasing diversity in the on-screen superhero community.

(I should say I am generally pro-diversity, but not militantly or dogmatically so, quite simply because I am dubious about using mainstream entertainment as an instrument of top-down cultural engineering.)

Having found the Webb-Garfield Spidey films rather dull, certainly compared to the Raimi-Maguire ones from ten years ago, I’d personally be more interested in seeing a Miles Morales Spider-Man film than yet another incarnation of Peter Parker. But I wouldn’t be surprised if famously-cautious movie moguls opted to go with Parker again.

What does bemuse me a bit are suggestions that they go with Peter Parker again but change his ethnicity. This might make a bit more sense if Miles Morales didn’t exist as a popular alternative version of the character, but given a diversity-friendly alternate exists, why make fundamental changes to a 50-year-old and much-loved character? I can’t figure it out.

It’s not as if the movie is going to be called Peter Parker, after all: the name with marquee value is Spider-Man. There’s no reason why people wouldn’t go to see a Miles Morales movie that wouldn’t equally apply to one with an ethnically-transformed Peter Parker. If people aren’t going to go and watch a movie with a black superhero, it doesn’t make any difference what his civilian name is, and if they’re only going to see a movie featuring the Spider-Man they grew up reading, then they’re not going to go and see one with a black Peter Parker because the comics character has a five decade history of being white.

‘Peter Parker is not fundamentally white’ runs the counter-argument here, but I am not even completely sure what this is supposed to mean. It reminded me of a similar discussion – possibly I am gilding the lily here, because at the time it felt like an argument – about whether a particular character had any ‘essentially male traits’. The suggestion in both cases seems to be that being white, or being male, is not a trait – is meaningless in and of itself, and contributes nothing to a person’s essential identity.

If you discard things like gender, race, orientation, and so on, I wonder what is left as a basis of personal identity: memories and experiences, I suppose, but aren’t those fundamentally informed by all the elements I just mentioned? These things are not just cosmetic labels you can pull off and move around without it impacting every aspect of an individual – I said as much when articulating my misgivings about DC’s decision to make a character with seven decades of history as a straight guy suddenly gay. Changing any of these things basically means you’re creating a new version of the character, if you ask me, and to claim otherwise is a bit silly.

Championing the idea of a non-white Peter Parker seems to me to be an attempt at having your cake and eating it: you want to hang on to the name recognition and audience investment that a character has accumulated over decades of publishing history, while simultaneously making fundamental changes to that character in the name of diversity. It completely disregards the fact that characters as popular as Peter Parker have lasted so long precisely because people have invested so much in them: dedicated fans of Spider-Man, which I will freely confess to not being among, really care about Peter Parker, and think of him almost as a real person, complaining when he’s presented inconsistently, and so on. The one thing guaranteed to annoy this kind of fanbase is to make arbitrary, glaring changes.

It almost feels as though there is some kind of secondary agenda at work, one which is trying to suggest that notions of race, gender, and orientation are not just equal but actually meaningless, in the sense of expressing any real difference. I don’t see any problem with accepting that people of different ethnicities or genders or orientations are fundamentally of equal value as human beings. I believe that myself; you would be some kind of medievalist not to, I think. But that doesn’t mean there are not deep and fundamental differences between men and women, or between the cultural histories of different ethnic groups. Equivalency does not equate to identity.

I can’t help but see a parallel with another issue which has caused me some vexation and indeed heartache recently. Not long ago the BBC broadcast a series called Atlantis, about the adventures of a straight white guy. This was the replacement for a series called Merlin, about the adventures of a straight white guy. This in turn followed Robin Hood, about the adventures of a straight white guy. Now, there are arguably sound reasons for making Robin Hood a straight white guy, and also to some extent Merlin the wizard. But the main character in Atlantis was an original creation, and the BBC had a blank slate to do whatever they liked. Did they get any stick at all for not being even a tiny bit more adventurous? Not that I ever noticed.

Yet the voices clamouring for a more diverse recasting in Doctor Who are sort of relentless, once again despite the long history of the character operating in certain terms and the accumulated weight of fifty years of unequivocal masculinity. The demand is once again for absolute continuity and fundamental change at one and the same moment.

Just as the militant pro-diversity movement seems much more interested in interfering with the Doctor’s identity than in persuading the BBC to lead a less high-profile fantasy show with a non-white or non-male character, so there seems to be rather less interest in using the already-existing, diversity-friendly Miles Morales character than in bringing about arbitrary change in the much better-known Peter Parker. And I can’t help but wonder why. You want a non-white Spider-Man? Use the non-white Spider-Man who’s been appearing in books for years. Insisting on turning an established white character black when a viable alternative exists only suggests that this isn’t simply just about diversity.

 

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Strange Fruit

A restaurant, early November 2014:

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‘Ah, m’sieur, I see you have finished. Was everything to your satisfaction?’

‘Um, well, no, not really…’

‘I am most sorry to hear that. What was the problem?’

‘Well, you know me, you know how much I love the Special Famous Pie. I’ve been eating it for decades, after all…’

‘Mmm-hmmm?’

‘Well – I couldn’t help noticing – you’ve changed some of the apple in the Special Famous Pie to blackberries.’

‘Well, as I am sure m’sieur knows, the recipe for Special Famous Pie is constantly evolving…’

‘Oh, sure, I know. Watching it evolve and become more sophisticated down the years is part of the pleasure, and I know that the way you change the kind of apple you use for the main filling is an essential part of what makes it Special Famous Pie.’

‘And so what is the problem…?’

‘Well, Special Famous Pie is apple pie. If you start putting different fillings in it’s not really the same pie, is it?’

‘Well, sir, I have to say that the new pie is very popular with many people. You may have seen a number of recent blog posts with names like Why Special Famous Pie Could and Should Be Made With Blackberries. I should say that we are probably going to change all the apple to blackberries in the not too distant future. ‘

‘You are? Why in God’s name would you do that?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I’d no idea you were that type of person.’

‘What type of person?’

‘The type who is prejudiced against blackberries.’

‘I’m not prejudiced against blackberries, I just don’t want them in an apple pie. I want apple in my apple pie.’

‘Yes, m’sieur, but it’s not called apple pie. It’s called Special Famous Pie. It doesn’t have to have apples in it, don’t you see?’

‘You’ve been making Special Famous Pie for over fifty years, and it’s always, always had apples in it. You can’t suddenly change the heart of the recipe and claim it’s the same thing.’

‘Well, m’sieur, you must recall that Special Famous Pie was invented many years ago, when we lived in an apple-dominated culture, and blackberries have for a long time been under-represented in restaurants…’

‘So make more blackberry desserts. It doesn’t mean you have to put blackberries in the apple pie. It is possible to have both, you know.’

‘Ah yes, but making our Special Famous apple pie using blackberries will be an important statement of principle.’

‘Which principle would that be?’

‘That apples and blackberries are equally good.’

‘No, the statement you’re making is that apples and blackberries are identical, which they are plainly not to anyone with taste buds and a brain. I’m not saying one is better than the other, but they are fundamentally different things.’

‘M’sieur, it’s very important to have more blackberries in restaurants.’

‘And I’m not arguing with you, but as well as Special Famous Pie you make a lot of other bland and rather dreary apple dishes – you invent a new one every couple of years. Why not stop making those and try making a new blackberry dish instead?’

‘Well, those dishes are not as popular or important as the Special Famous Pie. Also, making an apple dish with blackberries sends an important message that the two of them are of equal importance.’

‘I think it’s sending the message that you’re wilfully trying to ignore the fact that apples and blackberries are two different things. Also that there’s something wrong with apple pie that can only be fixed by making it with blackberries. Which isn’t really much of a fix at all as you’re no longer making apple pie in any meaningful sense.’

‘M’sieur, we are not changing anything. It will have the same name, it will be cooked in the same oven, most of the same ingredients will be same, it will still be a delicious fruit-based dessert -‘

‘Yes, but it was conceived as an apple pie, it became popular as an apple pie, it has five decades of accreted history and traditions as an apple pie, and making it without apple basically means you are making a different pie!!!’

‘The new style Special Famous Pie is going to be a delicious pie, sir.’

‘Yes, I’m sure it will be very popular with people who have it as an article of faith that there is no actual difference between different kinds of fruit. And I suppose there’s even a chance that it will be a good pie. But it won’t actually be Special Famous Pie, because that’s made with apple. That’s an essential part of the character.’

‘The character, sir?’

‘The character of the pie, I mean. What you’re talking about is a new pie with a completely different character. I can’t believe you’re doing this. You wouldn’t do this to any other dish.’

‘Well, that’s what makes Special Famous Pie so special, sir, that we can do this to it. No other pie has both a tradition of regularly changing its recipe and is so non-specific about its ingredients.’

‘You mean that because it isn’t specifically called Special Famous Apple Pie, the apple which is the main ingredient is somehow dispensable? That’s nonsense. You have no idea about what makes Special Famous Pie work.’

‘Well, perhaps, but we are in charge of it and we can do what we like. In the end it is only a pie, after all.’

‘Maybe so, but it’s still a pie I love and it makes me very angry to see it mucked about with this way. If there is no place for traditional Special Famous Pie with apples in it I’d rather you just stopped making it entirely than carried on with this slightly absurd travesty of a pie.’

‘Well, m’sieur, look at it this way: if the new style pie fails we can always go back to making the old pie. I expect we will alternate between apple and blackberry fillings anyway, in future.’

‘But – but – you’re still making two different kinds of pie and pretending they’re the same one. You’re still ignoring how the world actually works. Apples and blackberries are two different things.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I will have to ask you to keep that kind of opinion to yourself in a public restaurant from now on.’

‘From now on? You actually think I’m going to carry on eating here?’

‘Well, m’sieur, you said yourself you have been eating and enjoying Special Famous Pie for decades, so of course you will carry on eating it, no matter what we do to it…’

‘No! No! Have you been listening to me? It’s not the same pie any more, no matter what anyone says. I’m damned if I’m going to eat blackberry pie and pretend it’s sort-of-like-apple just because you tell me there’s no difference. If I can’t get proper Special Famous Pie, I’ll take my custom elsewhere, thank you very much.’

‘Ah well. We will see you again, when we change back to apple for a bit.’

‘I think you presume too much of my loyalty. This whole situation makes me very, very angry. Can I speak to the head chef, please?’

‘Alas, m’sieur, Mr Moffat is out to lunch.’

‘No kidding.’

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A rare excursion into philosophy/politics. Sorry, I just had to get this off my chest.

Here’s the thing: I spent four years studying philosophy. I over-think virtually everything in my life (except perhaps the things that the general consensus agrees actually warrant such consideration). I have a mouth on me and I am not usually afraid to deploy it.

I’m also – well, look, I’m not perfect. On a good day I can usually scrape ‘not actively bad’ when it comes to moral judgements and so on. But, joking apart, I don’t think I’m actually, you know, evil (the thing is, of course, that no-one outside of pulp fiction ever actually thinks that they are).

The problem which has been increasingly preying on my mind of late is this: lately, in ethical, cultural and philosophical matters, usually related to minority politics and equality in society, I have often found myself in disagreement with other people whom I generally tend to respect when it comes to other stuff. At the heart of the whole minority/equality issue is the fact that I live in a culture which was largely developed by institutions dominated by Straight White Men and, as a result, inevitably retains a degree of SWM-bias. I myself am an SWM.

Most discussion of this issue revolves around ways to make society fairer, which basically means less SWM-oriented. This can take a plethora of forms, from the words we choose to use, to the films we choose to make, to the stories we choose to tell.

Now, the thing is this: I have begun to doubt my own judgement in these matters. When I disagree with one of these proposed amendments, is it because it is genuinely a bad idea and unlikely to produce any genuine improvement? Or is it just because I am an SWM and inherently likely to react negatively to anything reducing the size and plushness of my own comfort zone? To what extent am I capable of being objective about this? Am I just rationalising my own selfish biases?

An example: I came across the word cissexual recently. To save you looking it up, it means non-transsexual. A new word minted to describe, I would suspect, considerably less than 5% of the population. My gut reaction is to say we don’t need it, that it’s quite possible to talk about ‘non-transsexual people’ without implying a negative connotion when it comes to their transsexual brethren, that it isn’t necessarily wrong to describe a group in a negative way like this. Furthermore it seems to me to be an attempt to mask the fact that with transsexuals we’re talking about a tiny minority, and that to use language to obscure the truth of that fact is at the very least bad philosophy.

But then, I’m just an SWM, and what do I know of the experience of being a transsexual? It’s all very well for me to tut-tut about this, when I’ve never known what it’s like to have my identity challenged and disregarded by mainstream society. What right do I have to raise an objection?

Well, I’m pretty sure I retain that right, simply because I’m a sentient human being. But I have to confess that the cries of ‘prejudiced’ and worse which have greeted me when I have attempted to use said right have been somewhat disconcerting. A more equal society would be a good thing, of course, but I think we all have the right to be involved in the discussions concerning how to bring it about. I often get the feeling that anything said by, or involving, an SWM is considered necessarily suspect by progressives, and if this isn’t in itself an act of discrimination I’m not sure what is. It is possible to disagree with someone progressive, whose aims are laudable, without being an evil-minded reactionary bigot oneself. Even if you are an SWM. At least, I hope so.

 

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I am lucky enough to have a job where the world walks in my door every morning: well, perhaps not the entire world, but a reasonable chunk of it; certainly enough for me to get a perspective on world events perhaps denied to people whose sole access to them comes from the news media.

Naturally, of course, there are limits to this – while I spend a lot of time with Kuwaitis, Saudis, Spaniards, South Koreans, Japanese, French, Colombians and Germans (to give only a representative sample), they tend to be affluent people from developed countries. When it comes to less lucky people from less lucky countries, I am as oblivious as the everage person.

Of course, luck can change. Nearly three years ago I had as a student a former Syrian kickboxing champion turned film producer, in the UK with his wife (a famous actress and star of numerous TV soap operas popular across the Gulf region). At that time the troubles in Syria had been underway for some time – the revolutions in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya had occurred perhaps six months earlier – and my student expressed some concern over the situation but not, as I recall, any real foreboding.

And yet here we are in 2014, with the Syrian conflict well-established as one of those ongoing wars that’s become part of the background noise of daily life here in the UK and elsewhere (news that a celebrity TV presenter was moving to a new network got more attention than anything happening in Syria this week). My former student and his wife have, I understand, long since abandoned the country for either Turkey or one of the Gulf States. I know much less about what is happening in Syria than I feel I probably should.

So this week I picked up a personal account of the situation in Syria, written by Aboud Dandachi, a software engineer and activist formerly from Homs, but currently another emigre living in Turkey. And yet even here I must confess that the decision to buy Aboud’s book was not entirely motivated by the desire to educate myself about the Syrian conflict: Aboud’s book is titled The Doctor, the Eye Doctor, and Me, and he describes it as ‘analogies and parallels between the world of Doctor Who and the Syrian conflict.’

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Well, the Doctor Who book marketplace is a crowded old piece of real estate, and it’s been difficult to find a new angle for some time now… I digress, I am flippant: Aboud has not written this book to get rich, obviously, but to communicate his opinions on number of things he feels very strongly about. It just so happens that the two principal things involved are, from the perspective of most people, totally and utterly disparate.

At first it looks like Aboud is writing one of those my-life-with-Doctor Who kind of books, in a broadly similar vein to (for example) Neil Perryman’s Adventures with the Wife in Space – the history and development of the series used as a framework to hang a few autobiographical anecdotes on, with the unique wrinkle that Aboud only really came to the series in 2011, and his autobiography involves living in a war zone.

The narrative of Aboud’s own experiences certainly takes precedence over any attempt to be comprehensive, when it comes to Doctor Who at least: Aboud came to the series with The Impossible Astronaut, but not every episode following that is covered, while he’s equally happy popping back in time to comment on The Eleventh Hour, or covering ‘extra’ material like Night of the Doctor. The sole criterion as to what he writes about has very little to do with Doctor Who itself and much more to do with his desire to find a useful parallel with events in Syria that will allow him to share his opinions about them.

Even so, the results are often startling, with a high potential-bathos quotient. For example, his piece on The Eleventh Hour makes an extended series of parallels between the challenge facing Matt Smith as a new Doctor in 2010, and that facing Bashar Assad when he came to power in Syria ten years earlier. I take Doctor Who more seriously than is probably healthy, but even my little internal gearbox krrnnked and complained a bit when confronted with juxtapositions like the following one (this is exactly how the text is presented in Aboud’s book, by the way, nothing has been skipped or elided):

‘Sixty five minutes. That’s all the time Matt Smith had to convince a new generation of Doctor Who fans to accept him as the Doctor. The burden and challenges facing him as he went into his first episodes could not be exaggerated.

When the parents of the Dar’a children held Syria’s first anti-government protests in living memory, they were shot at and themselves arrested by Assad’s security forces. And yet [Assad]’s apologists kept insisting he was a reformer at heart.’

Okay, out of context that probably comes across as an even stranger non sequitur than it does in the book, but even reading the whole book it does sometimes feel like you’re reading some sort of exercise in dissonant cut-up situationism.

I am rather more familiar with writings about Doctor Who than with those concerned with the Syrian revolution, so I can at least feel confident when talking about Aboud’s writing on this topic. He’s a competent fan writer, who communicates his passion for the series well, although again there is a slight tension between his gushing praise for virtually every aspect of the Smith era – The Impossible Astronaut was ‘the best acted, scripted, and directed forty three minutes of television I ever remember seeing’ (Aboud, let me introduce you to the middle two episodes of Pyramids of Mars), while regarding Oswin’s introduction in Nonsense of the Daleks, ‘not since The Impossible Astronaut… had I seen a character portrayed so brilliantly’ (Aboud, let me introduce you to the ladies of io9.com, who may well wish to have an interesting discussion with you about how Steven Moffat depicts women) – and the fact he seems to think some of his audience may not be hard-core Who fans (he bothers to explain who Tom Baker is, for example). Even so, you are reminded of the non-professional nature of this book when confronted with repeated references to ‘Russell Davis’ and ‘Stephen Moffat’, and a list of past Doctors that begins ‘William Hartnell, Patrick Troughton, Pertwee, Tom Baker, Davis, Colin Baker…’

Aboud is equally passionate when it comes to writing about the Syrian conflict, although I feel much less qualified to judge how objectively accurate anything he says is. His abhorrence for the Assad regime comes across just as loudly and clear as his love of the Moffat regime. This is a very personal perspective, at times limitingly so – he provides a lot of background on the crisis, with the history of the regime, and so on, but even so I lack any real context into which to put this. But this says more about my ignorance of the region than any deficiency in Aboud’s writing. Much of what he says is powerful and resonates well with the parallels he draws with the series – his comparison of the latter days of the Time War with the later stages of the conflict, where the Assad regime was set against an Al-Qaida affiliate named ISIS, is particularly persuasive. But elsewhere you get the impression he’s reaching just a bit, possibly because he knows that people who’d steer clear of a worthy, heavy series of polemics about Assad and Syria might well be drawn in by some fairly superficial Doctor Who content.

Well, it’s not all superficial – it seems like being a Doctor Who fan is one of those universal experiences, and I could certainly relate to Aboud’s experiences of fending off disgruntled family members complaining he’s obsessed with a silly TV show. It’s this sort of material that makes some parts of the book very endearing and kept me reading. Aboud’s sheer unrestrained passion for the series is quite charming, and for me rather fascinating. He came on board with The Impossible Astronaut and clearly absolutely loves the current show – for me, as long-term readers may have gathered, this same story marked the point at which I began to be consistently unimpressed with Moffat’s curatorship of the programme. Would Aboud and I actually get on if we met? I don’t know (as I write, he hasn’t responded to my Facebook friend request), but I like to think we would find some common ground, even so.

Even so, this book is just as odd as it sounds. It’s more a collection of personal opinions than a serious attempt to be objective about either Doctor Who or the Syrian civil war, and as such I suspect the value to Aboud of being able to express his views this way will be at least as great as the value to anyone else of actually reading them. But on another level it speaks powerfully of the real value of passion, and the importance of even fantasy fiction in helping people cope with life and attempt to communicate about it. This isn’t a great book in literary terms, but it’s interesting and informative, and it deserves respect.

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It seems to me that now, before we get too bogged down in 2014, would be a good time to carry out the threatened review of my list of resolutions from this time last year. Anyone expecting a similar list this time round is probably going to be in for a disappointment, by the way. Why should this be? Well…

navelgazer

Although it didn’t always feel like it at the time, 2013 proved to be a bit of a big year for me in some respects, and I’ve no expectation that this year can match it, certainly not in terms of major events. Anyone anticipating a brave declaration that this year I’m going to buy my own place, start my own business, learn to drive, or become emotionally intimate with someone new is going to be disappointed. Sorry.

I think consolidation is the word I’m looking for; consolidation and balance (in terms of the different elements of my life). The only thing that did occur to me happened back in April, or whenever it was that Margaret Thatcher finally departed this world. It seemed to me that it’s all very well to make big noises about the state of society and poisonous political legacies, but unless you actually pull up your boots and wade into actual political activism all you’re doing is just mouthing off and indulging yourself. God knows there are enough things wrong in the world today, and enough ways of getting involved should you so wish. But can I actually see myself making that kind of serious, probably thankless commitment? In all honesty, no.

Anyway, moving on to last year’s resolutions and how they worked out:

1. Move Career On. This actually happened, which was probably inevitable, but what’s slightly surprising is that it’s happened in a very positive way. At one point this year I was seriously considering going off to Chile or Argentina and the life of a peripatetic TEFL grunt, but I found I could generate very little enthusiasm for this. That I eventually wound up – more by luck than anything else – working at the very place I would have chosen to, given the option, is obviously a real bonus.

The downside is that, one way or another, I am going to have knock my association with summer schools on the head. This is a cause of some sadness, as I always enjoyed the challenge of the work and it realistically means losing a few good friends who I never see at any other time. But I need to start thinking longer term.

2. Play Some WFB. Er, well. I don’t think half a demo game really qualifies. Partly this is because I went through a real period of engagement with my Blood Angel army near the beginning of the year, and partly because I took six months out of the hobby after having my Eldar army effortlessly tabled by some Space Marines in June. My misgivings with the current 40K metagame are considerable, but on the other hand no-one seems to be playing WFB at the venue I go to. Then again, we are surely due a new edition this year, which may stir things up a bit. Anyway – I would like to play some proper WFB, but a competitive 40K army I am happy with would also be satisfactory.

3. Write More and with More Variety. This didn’t really happen. I blew NaNo again this year, but then again i suppose this is like someone who never goes jogging entering a marathon and complaining they couldn’t finish it.

In the year to come I think I will revise this to ‘Be More Creatively Productive’, whether this means through writing, painting, or practising musically (someone gave me a guitar in November, rather to my surprise).

4. Waste Less Time Playing Computer Games. An indubitably spectacular fail here, given the epic sessions of Civilisation, Total War, and The Sims I have been clocking up of late. But are games as intricate and engrossing as these honestly a waste of time, any more than going to the cinema or reading a book, passive activities I indulge in without feeling the slightest regret? Perhaps the key is to make my sessions a bit less epic – balance, like I say.

5. More Radio and Less TV in the Background: Well, this was never really a big deal, though things have got to the point where I can join in with the voice-over on certain repeats of Top Gear.

6. Sleep More: Marginal. The new job means I don’t have to go to bed quite so ridiculously early, but the effort of will involved in stopping whatever I’m doing and going to bed is sometimes demanding. I am, as ever, reminded of Somerset Maugham’s declaration that he did two things against his will every day: getting up in the morning and going to bed at night.

7. Write About Different Old Films: Does gorging on Toho monster movies qualify? I suspect not. I find it hard to feel too guilty about this one, as all the films I write about are ones I enjoy (on some level). I think one can be too aspirational when setting resolutions.

8. Write Proper Doctor Who Reviews: Well, this one definitely happened, and will continue to happen, I think. I predict a touch of seventh Doctor bias in the early part of the year, as McCoy was the guy who I hardly saw anything of this year.

This would be an opportune moment to mention again that 2013 was the year I got my name on the back of a book, Outside In (a collection of Doctor Who reviews, inevitably) – my own contribution being one of least accomplished pieces in it. 2014 promises Outside In 2, featuring a piece written specifically for publication (not to mention, I understand, the second pressing of Who’s 50 with my acknowledgement added). A third similar volume is also on the cards but I am reluctant to say more ahead of the official announcement.

Not too bad a year, then, as I look back on it – certainly not too many regrets. Hopefully 2014 will be more or less the same, but we will inevitably see.

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