I read these essays on Doctor Who as they were posted at the time on Mr. Rilstone's blog, but as collected here they take on a new meaning, telling the sad tale of one fan's disillusionment with the programme he loved.
The book starts in 2004, with Mr Rilstone's excitement at the then-forthcoming Doctor Who revamp, and ends in 2009 in disgust. Mr Rilstone's reviews of the first series of the show under Russel Davies' control are enthusiastic, excited and joyful, but as the series goes on, with David Tennant in the lead, this becomes a gripping but sad portrait of a man falling out of love with something that had previously given him utter joy.
The whole thing is wonderfully written, and well thought-out - the early, excited reviews are not just "Squee!", and neither are the later reviews the typical "Davies destroyed my childhood" nonsense. Rather, Rilstone carefully analyses the ways in which the programme succeeds and fails, both on its own terms and on those Rilstone would prefer.
Fascinating reading.