Ben Aaronovitch's novelisation of his "Remembrance of the Daleks" script is one that truly stands apart from its peers. It's longer, for one thing, and darker for another. Most remarkably of all though, it set the standard for the hundreds of original "Doctor Who" novels that would soon follow in its wake - and it set that standard high.
The book doesn't feel much like a Target novelisation at all. There isn't a whimsical chapter title in sight, as Aaronovitch favours titular dates and times instead, lending the proceedings a sense of compression and urgency. What's more, rather than see plot threads excised to accommodate the page count, Aaronovitch actually elaborates on his plot, using his prose to expound and even expand on what was seen on television. Now I know why Ace wasn't exterminated on sight at the end of Part 2, and why the doped-up and schizophrenic Dalek Supreme was such easy pickings at the end of Part 4. Most palpably of all though, here the gloves are off. Everything is gritty and brutal. I can't say for sure, but I'd wager that this is the only Target book to see someone have their head taken clean off by a Dalek death ray.
By his own admission, Aaronovitch's prose style is sparse, but I didn't find it lacking. Having watched the television serial so many times, I'm familiar enough with the look and feel of the story to be able to look past any descriptive omissions, not that I'd say there were that many. Like the author, I was much more interested in getting inside the characters' heads, looking at the story from each of their unique perspectives and examining each of their motives. Of them all, only the Doctor remains inscrutable here, but even he is subject to a partial lifting of the veil, as his infamous lecture to Ace on ancient Gallifrey is interrupted by flashbacks to the Old Time - flashbacks that see the other make his first, albeit uncapitalised, appearance.
Like many novelisations, "Remembrance" differs quite significantly from the script in several significant respects. Aaronovitch doesn't just novelise the shooting script; he incorporates ad-libs and interpretations from the broadcast serial and riffs upon them - even Gilmore's "Chunky" handle finds its way into the book in an unfamiliar context. Some of the basics are revised too - Allison isn't Mike Smith's daughter, for instance, and the understated sparks of attraction between Professor Jensen and Gilmore here blossom into full-blown romance. As the book's final pages delight in revealing, "he calls her Rachel and she calls him Ian". Rachel's Jewish background is gently explored too, and juxtaposed delectably with Mike's ignorant racist barrages.
Now as much as I love the televised story, I must admit that the world built by Aaronovitch here is a richer one. The curt relationship between Mike and Ratcliffe was a fairly straightforward thing on television, but in the book it becomes a seedy tale of chocolate and grooming - one that is paid off much more satisfactorily, as Mike realises that he's been played and resolves to murder his manipulator. The fires of "Ghost Light" can also be traced back to this novelisation, as the racism that Ace encounters triggers memories of her friend Manisha's immolation at the hands of racists, betraying, for the first time, why Ace had to mould herself into a young woman who would "fight fire with fire." We then get to take a step further back still and look at Ace through Allison and Rachel's eyes. Here their realisation that this girl is from the future is explicit, and the thought terrifies the two scientists. After all, what sort of future could produce a girl like that? The answer is far closer to home than either woman would care to believe.
What makes the "Remembrance" novel so extraordinary though is that Aaronovitch applies the exact same principles to the Dalek protagonists as he does to the humans. For the first time we have Daleks with distinct personalities - personalities accessible to the reader, yet indubitably alien. Just when we think that we've got the Dalek race pegged and nothing can surprise us, Aaronovitch offers us windows into their alien culture. Imperial Daleks aren't just Davros's drones, but children of the renaissance; the Ven-Katri Davrett. Their ship isn't just a "mother-ship", hyphenated or otherwise, it's the Eret-Mensaiki Ska. The Special Weapons Dalek is not just a formidable war machine, but a tortured, insane creature who's reviled as the "Abomination" even by its own race. Every time it fires its devastating ray, the backwash saturates its whole body with radiation, making it just that little bit madder. At the other end of the scale, imperial infants whiz about the streets of London at thirty k/ph, their immaturity causing them to fall foul of the grizzled renegade veterans. The author even dares to dip into the harrowing past of the Daleks' creator, depicting both the accident that crippled him and its aftermath. The grotesque blend of melted flesh, Tungsten wire and mooted euthanasia would prove such a potent and dramatic one that Lance Parkin would steal it to open his acclaimed "Davros" audio drama more than a decade later.
Indeed, probably the most remarkable thing about this book is its significance. So many enduring ideas can be traced back to this slim grey tome: Kadiatu Lethbridge-Stewart gets her first mention, Gallifrey's ruling triumvirate is first glimpsed, the Doctor becomes the Ka Faraq Gatri, and Davros is crippled. To think that the author only included such things as "padding" is as frightening a notion as any decapitating death ray.
And so, whilst it's far from representative of the Target range, "Remembrance of the Daleks" ranks amongst its finest titles. It services Aaronovitch's script admirably, polishing it, riffing upon it and going off on lengthy digressions that would unwittingly shape the future of "Doctor Who" fiction. When I think of my favourite Target books, I inevitably picture piles of Terrance Dicks' early second and third Doctor titles, but if I were pressed to pick one title that stands head and shoulders above the rest, then this grey-clad renegade would be it.
Originally published on "The History of the Doctor," 3rd February 2011. Reproduced with kind permission.