Still on Genre, I pull myself away from reading Neil Gaiman’s Sandman saga, at the point where one powerful character in female form – Despair, Sister of the Endless family – is shown to be living in an eternal realm that lurks on the other side of every mirror.
From this, I watch Doctor Who, which ends with a powerful character in female form – The Family Of Blood’s Sister Of Mine – imprisoned in an eternal realm that lurks on the other side of every mirror.
Sandman homage or not, this latest Doctor Who story is bold enough to move the programme from its nominal sci-fi genre into something more mythological, classical, dream-like. The ‘Sister Of Mine’ character is left in the form of a sinister little girl, still clutching her balloon. It’s the keeping of the balloon, even behind the mirror, that I like. Very reminiscent of Ovid’s poetical, creative punishments metered out by the ancient gods on their enemies. The Doctor is said to visit the little girl behind the mirror once a year – why? And why not put all the aliens in the same void, rather than dole out individually-tailored fates? Because it makes classical sense. One of the aliens is even transformed into a statue based on his own creations, which is VERY Zeus.
Genre can sometimes stand in the way between a story and a reader who might otherwise enjoy it. The Time Traveler’s Wife is a good example of a science fiction novel successfully marketed to people who don’t like science fiction.
Sometimes, it’s because people are put off by a perceived notion of what the audience is like:
“I do not like or am not like the audience, therefore I cannot or will not enjoy this material.”
The reverse theory can be just as damaging:
“I do not like this material, but I will pretend I do because I am like the audience. Or because I want to BE in the audience.”
Ideally, there should be no such thing as genre at all: no stories for boys, or stories for girls, no ‘gay interest’. no fantasy fiction or crime fiction or romantic comedy. Just well-written stories and badly-written stories. But I realise this is a naive way of thinking: people will always like their filters and signposts, award nominations, plaudits from names they like or admire. Everyone has their own way in.
With the new, go-ahead 21st Century Doctor Who, a traditionally boyish sci-fi programme has finally become more girl-friendly and ‘Time-Traveler’s Wife’ compatible. David Tennant’s Doctor, mysterious as he is, is clearly into human ladies, who in turn are better written than the archetypal damsels in distress of old. The price paid is that despite all the flirting he can never be allowed to truly get off with them. Or can he? This is what keeps people watching, of course.
What’s particularly interesting is that the latest Doctor Who tale is also an adaptation of a book in the 90s ‘New Adventures’ spin-off novels. The original novel (“Human Nature”), regardless of its merit, would only have been read by the most devoted of old-style Doctor Who fans, as opposed to normal people. So its new life on TV this week represents a kind of triumph for those fighting in the genre wars. It’s one thing to moan about how awful such-and-such a popular band or film or author is, while much better artists and works reach tiny genre-based or ‘cult’ audiences. It’s another to actually do something about it.
