“Because you’re not all the same. And because I know you’ve lost just about everything.” The Doctor looked towards Martha and the others, back in the valley, and sighed. “I hope none of them ever find out what that feels like.”
Excerpt from Sting of the Zygons

The Doctor and Martha find themselves in 1909 in the Lake District, and find that a local village has been trashed by a monster found dead on the shore that the doctor quickly recognizes as a Skarasen, a creature of the Zygons. The Doctor goes on the hunt for them without realizing that they are all around him. Many of the townspeople (and then some) are actually Zygons in disguise. The rest of the book operates on a sort of ‘The Thing’ angle, where characters don’t know who to trust, etc.

The book starts off fairly solid by getting to the point quickly. They are Zygons about, and one of their creatures has a giant hole in its head, which is apparently a difficult feat to achieve. The plot thickens when The Doctor realizes that the Zygons could be masking themselves as the townspeople. That’s about where the good ends, and he meh begins. Any supporting characters – anyone other than Martha and The Doctor – are exceptionally 2-dimensional. typical do-gooder 1910 male, The French Guy, The Hunting Lord, The Mischievous Child, The Nanny, The Innkeep. None of these characters (or others) stand out as even remotely memorable, and only serve to be a means to an end. As a result, much of the dialog is very stereo-typical (why do french characters always end statements with “, no?”) and lacks the personality to make it engaging.

I will give credit where it’s due, as Stephen Cole did manage to through a couple unexpected quirks into the story that caught me off guard, though I figured most of them out before they were really brought to light. The Doctors dialog is exceptionally David Tennant-y as well, which I’m sure is no easy task.

I’m really starting to wonder why I keep reading the new novels. I mean I can read through one in an afternoon if i dedicate myself, because they’re about half of the size (in word count) of the originals. On top of that, the language is toned down for a younger reader population. I’m not saying that these are bad traits, they’re fine attributes to have when appealing to younger readers. The problem I have is that I am not a young reader, and if they’re going to produce new Doctor Who books, why are there none that slot into the ‘adult’ category? Kill some people, swear a little, let The Doctor lose something in order to save the day. Show me the struggle that the older books were so great at.

An alright story, nothing to write home about, but I’m not upset that I spent my time on it. Very typical and straight-forward.

5.5/10

“‘You know how you wanted them to say it out loud back then?’ Another breath. ‘I’ll say it now — we all wanted it to be you that died. You should have died in that tub.’”
Excerpt from Everything Must Go

The basic story is that Henry Powell is blamed for the ruining of his family at the tender age of seven. After this life-altering event, the family goes down hill. Mom develops a Valium addiction, the older brother becomes angsty, and dad just distances himself from his feelings. I’m not giving away plot twists here, merely the story line. As a result Henry is burdened with the guilt of this, and spends his life trying to make it up to his parents. It’s sort of sad to see the pathetic progression of his life, or a lack thereof.

Everything Must Go is an easy read and doesn’t provide much strain on the brain. This is sadly a double-edged comment. What that means is that though easy to read, it is adversely not that intriguing in its plot line. I got the gist of it about 150 pages in. It’s like the bizzaro Rudy. It’s Rudy if he didn’t get into Notre Dame. All the sappy depression, but no upswing at the end. It sort of just levels out on itself. Say you started at a happy scale of 5. the book brings you down to negative ten, then manages to crawl back up to about a zero. The ending left me somewhat deflated, though that comes down to personal opinion.

I will admit its a sadly detailed look into the life of those who don’t quite make it. Those people that don’t make it out there and do something with their lives. Not even anything extraordinary, but even those who go out and blend into the median. Henry is a character that sits outside the bell curve, cursing it for its comfortableness and at times holstering his guilt as a badge of honour. It’s a story about love and duty, no matter how misplaced either must be. I appreciated that though depressing, Henry stands out as a man of his word above all else. He is a sad and simple man, but he is honest and truthful… even if that makes him sound like a psycho throughout some of the book.

Elizabeth Flock also managed to incur in me one of the longest “cringe moments” of my life. In my Social Psych class, we were taught that men and women respond differently to the same situation. For instance when someone is doing a speech, and failing horribly at it, men will cringe and look away. Women tend to lean in and pay more attention, trying to offer silent support. It was this look-away-and-cringe effect that flowed within me for about a third of the book, though at differing times. I can’t explain why, but anyone who reads this one through will understand.

It wasn’t a bad book, though I think I may have missed the point. I am also wary of any book that actually comes with “discussion questions” in the back.

5.5/10