My girlfriend Michele’s mother passed away yesterday morning. This post is being written in her memory.
May Alley was born in Liverpool, England in the 1930s. As a young girl she lived through the horrors of World War II, as the Nazis inflicted their terrifying Blitz upon Great Britain. Following the War the UK experienced a severe economic depression, and May came to the United States in the 1960s to look for work. Living in New York City she married and eventually gave birth to Michele.
Michele and I have been a couple for almost eight years now. I was fortunate enough to meet May on a number of occasions during this time. She was a very sweet woman.
I was often reminded of May when I read the historical novels of London-born author Victor Pemberton. I initially knew of Pemberton from his work as a writer and script editor on Doctor Who in the late 1960s. In fact, Pemberton has had a very diverse career in television, radio, and documentary films.
In 1978 Pemberton wrote the ninety minute radio drama The Trains Don’t Stop Here Anymore, which starred Nerys Hughes and was broadcast by BBC Radio. It was inspired by the lives of Pemberton’s parents. The play was followed up in 1987 by two additional installments, Don’t Talk To Me About Kids and Down by the Sea. In 1990 Pemberton was asked to adapt this trilogy into a novel. That book, Our Family, became the first of 15 historical novels, which Pemberton refers to as his “London saga.”
Our Family opens in London during the First World War. Letty Edgington meets Ollie Hobbs, a soldier recuperating from wounds sustained on the French battlefield. Letty and Oliver fall in love and, despite their very different socioeconomic backgrounds and the objections of their families, marry. The novel follows their lives over the succeeding decades, through both good times and bad.
Pemberton invests his characters with real humanity. They are very much living, feeling individuals. No one among them is all good or all bad; Pemberton succeeds in finding redemptive qualities in even those people who at first glance would seem completely unlikable. He delves deep into the minds and souls of Letty, Ollie, their families and friends, revealing what motivates their actions, giving us a real understanding of who they are.
For me, one of the most striking aspects of Our Family was the chapters set during World War II. I am Jewish, and so when I was growing up I learned about the Holocaust. Additionally, in college I minored in History. From my classes on European history, as well as outside reading, I gained some knowledge of the events of the War.
But, truthfully, I never truly understood the terrible experiences on the Home Front in Britain until I read Our Family. Pemberton’s depiction of the Hobbs family’s struggles to survive through five long years of almost-daily air raids by the Nazi Luftwaffe and subsequent rocket attacks on London, seeing their beloved city turned to rubble, watching innocent civilians die in the terrible bombings, is incredibly powerful. Pemberton communicates all of this in a way that the matter-of-fact text and still photographs of a history book can never achieve. I was left with a profound admiration for the British civilians who endured half a decade of the horrors of war.
I also came away from Our Family with a realization of what Michele’s mother went through as a young child as Liverpool was bombed, and an understanding of how decades later May could still be traumatized by those events.
Pemberton chronicles the story of Letty, Ollie, and their children through to the late Twentieth Century. When I reached the end of the novel, it was a sort of bittersweet experience. Throughout the course of the book, I had gotten to know the characters so well, and I was reluctant to part with them. I almost felt like I knew these people personally.
In 2011, after reading Our Family, I e-mailed Pemberton with some of my thoughts concerning the novel, particularly the chapters set during the War. He was kind enough to respond to my missive:
“As I’m sure you have gathered, I myself lived through the horrors of the London blitz, and it is a period in my life that I shall never forget. In many ways, writing those fifteen saga novels, most of them set during that war, has been an attempt by me to exorcise those terrible times from my mind, but the memories still linger, especially the dark moments of sudden death in one’s own family, and the appalling destruction wreaked on the civilian population.
“Yes, Our Family is basically the story of my own family through the ages, Letty and Oliver were my own parents, and Mick is me. Ninety-eight percent of the story is true, and I look back at it with a mixture of affection, bewilderment, amusement, and sadness, the same, I imagine, as with so many other families.”
Pemberton’s novel is a stirring narrative that left me deeply moved. I highly recommend it.
The second book in Pemberton’s London saga, entitled Our Street, is also a very heartfelt work. The novel chronicles the friendship between Elsa, an elderly German Jewish refugee, and Frankie, a teenage boy (a fictionalized version of Pemberton himself), in 1940s London.
Although it is not quite as easy to find a copy of Our Street here in the States, it is worth tracking down, as well. A number of web sites have used copies for sale.
By accident I purchased two different copies of Our Street through used online booksellers. I gave one of them to May, who was a voracious reader. Michele subsequently informed me that her mother had enjoyed the novel, and that it reminded her of her own childhood. I hope that I was able to bring her some small measure of happiness with that gift.
It has been a few years since I read both Our Family and Our Street. I hope to have the opportunity to read them again in the near future. Pemberton’s rich writing is well worth experiencing a second time.
Since I met Peter Davison, who starred in Doctor Who from 1982 to 1984, at the New York Comic Con last weekend, I thought it would be appropriate to do a blog entry on one of his stories.
I first happened to start watching Doctor Who regularly at the tail end of Tom Baker’s era, and soon after the Doctor regenerated into his Fifth incarnation, played by Davison. So, really, for me some of the earliest episodes that I had the opportunity to see were from Davison’s time on the series. Because of this, I’m rather fond of his era. Even if Davison didn’t always get the best stories, I enjoyed his portrayal of the Doctor.
The story I’m taking a look at today, “Kinda,” is, I think, one of Davison’s better ones. I actually wrote a review of it on Associated Content a couple of years ago, and this is a revised version. But, hey, if the giant Mara snake can get a CGI makeover on the DVD, then I think I’m entitled to do a special edition of one of my old columns!
The serial “Kinda,” written by Christopher Bailey, was originally broadcast by the BBC in February 1982. The first time I saw it was a couple of years later when it aired on PBS here in the States. I was eight years old, and, to be honest, it left me totally confused. About a decade later, I saw “Kinda” on PBS again, and this time I taped it on the VCR. So over the years, I had the opportunity to re-watch it several more times. As I got older, and my knowledge of world cultures and spirituality broadened, I gradually came to have a better understanding of “Kinda” with each subsequent viewing. The course I took in Comparative Religions in college helped. More recently, I’ve had discussions with my girlfriend, who is very well read on religion & spirituality, and I’ve learned a lot from her. So it is an interesting, and different, experience watching “Kinda” again as an adult now that it is out on DVD.
“Kinda” is set on Deva Loka, a tranquil tropical forest world that is described as a literal paradise. An expeditionary force of humans has arrived to determine if the planet is suitable for colonization. The occupants of Deva Loka, the Kinda, appear to be a very primitive people, but the expedition’s scientist Doctor Todd is convinced there is much more to the natives than meets the eye. And then three of the six expedition members vanish under mysterious circumstances.
By the time the Doctor and his companions arrive on Deva Loka, tensions are beginning to fray in the expedition Dome. Security officer Hindle, due to the disappearances of half the team, as well as the aggressive attitude of the expedition’s commander Sanders towards him, is becoming unhinged. The Doctor and Adric are taken into custody at the Dome. After Sanders departs to search for the missing members of the team, Hindle snaps, threatening the Doctor, Adric, and Todd at gunpoint.
Meanwhile, Tegan has been left behind by a set of mysterious giant wind chimes. Falling into a trance-like dream state, her consciousness is projected into a strange black void populated by a trio of sinister-looking pale figures with snake tattoos on their forearms. One of them, a sneering young man, attempts to coerce Tegan into allowing him to take control of her physical form, utilizing a variety of mental tortures. Under this psychic assault, Tegan finally relents. She awakens back on Deva Loka, the snake symbol now on her arm, possessed by an evil entity known as the Mara.
As I learned in the years subsequent to my early viewings of “Kinda,” Christopher Bailey invested his scripts with a number of Buddhist symbols and concepts. For example, “Deva Loka” in the Sanskrit language means heaven or paradise. In Hinduism (which has certain parallel beliefs to Buddhism) there are three paths that the human soul can take after death, and one of these is a path of light into a heavenly plane of existence known as Deva Loka. Buddhism itself regards a Deva Loka as the habitat of Devas, or divine beings. Likewise, “Mara” is Sanskrit for death or evil. Buddhism regards the Mara as an entity of temptation that draws individuals away from spiritual enlightenment.
Of course, there is also Judeo-Christian imagery present in “Kinda.” The Mara’s true form is a giant snake, making it the serpent in paradise. When the Mara possesses Tegan, she takes on the mannerisms of an aggressive seductress. To ensnare Aris, one of the Kinda tribe whose brother is being held captive in the Dome, Tegan first gets his attention by sitting in a tree and dropping apples on him, an allusion to the temptation in the Garden of Eden. There is also an almost sexual connotation to the moment when Tegan and Aris’ hands entwine, and the Mara transfers over to his body.
One of the primary strengths of “Kinda” is the high quality of performances by the actors. First of all, Peter Davison turns a great performance as the Doctor. Davison grew up watching Doctor Who in the late 1960s, and has said that he drew a certain amount of inspiration from the Second Doctor, played by Patrick Troughton. Some of the cadence, mannerisms, and personality that Davison invests in his Doctor in “Kinda” are reminiscent of Troughton’s incarnation. Obviously this is something that I did not pick up on when I was younger, but subsequently having seen many of Troughton’s surviving Doctor Who episodes, I can now see how he influenced Davison. I think that quality works very well in this story. At the same time, Davison also gives the Doctor his own individual spin, making it much more than just an imitation of Troughton.
Janet Fielding, who plays Tegan, is given a chance to shine in “Kinda.” Instead of just being the bossy, argumentative “mouth on legs” that many of the writers pigeonholed the character as, here we see a very frightened, bewildered, vulnerable individual suffering at the hands of the Mara in the black void. During the brief period when Tegan is possessed by the Mara, she is a genuinely creepy, unsettling figure. At the end of the serial, when the Mara’s true form is revealed, and she realizes that thing was in her head, you can see hints of what might be post-traumatic stress disorder.
(I was usually not very keen that Doctor Who producer John Nathan-Turner had a lot of his serials flow from one into another. But it was a good decision on his part to have “The Visitation,” the story immediately following “Kinda” in broadcast order, contain a scene early on where Tegan is shown to be still unsettled by her possession a short while before. I think it has become easy for fans of the revived Doctor Who series to take it for granted that the Doctor’s companions will grow & develop as a season progresses. The majority of the time on the original series, this was not the case, and this was one of the rare instances it demonstrated that events could have lasting effects on a regular character.)
The most outstanding performance in “Kinda” is Simon Rouse as Hindle, an emotionally unstable individual experiencing a mental breakdown. It would have been easy and tempting to turn in a totally over-the-top performance, making Hindle a figure of melodrama. Instead, Rouse plays it totally straight, giving an utterly convincing depiction of a man unhinged, vacillating across the emotional spectrum, going from violent and threatening to paranoid and neurotic to childlike and innocent. Hindle is a pitiable figure, but at the same time he is very scary, because you have absolutely no idea what he is going to do next. The cliffhanger ending to episode one has Hindle leveling a gun at the Doctor, Adric, and Todd, declaring to them “I have the power of life and death over all of you!” It’s a riveting moment because Rouse delivers what could have been a daft line with such conviction, and you can just hear the insanity in his taut voice. And, at the story’s end, after Hindle has been exposed to the Kinda’s Box of Jhana, and his insanity banished, we see him in a quiet, contemplative state. Rouse really gives a three-dimensional performance.
Also noteworthy is Nerys Hughes as Doctor Todd. A noted actress, Hughes turns in a solid performance, and for much of the story she fulfills the role of a temporary companion. A scientist, Todd has both the intelligence and wit to match the Doctor. Hughes and Davison have very good chemistry. At the end of the story, when the Doctor and his companions depart, I was left wishing that Todd could have gone with them, because she could have made a great regular cast member.
The music for “Kinda” was composed by Peter Howell, who did excellent work on a number of Doctor Who stories in the 1980s. His incidental music on the surreal “Warriors’ Gate” the previous season was an especially effective and memorable. For “Kinda,” Howell turns in another eerie, ethereal score that suits the serial perfectly.
This serial was directed by Peter Grimwade, and he does a superb job at translating a very dreamlike, cerebral script into a television program. Grimwade was one of the best directors Doctor Who had during this time period. An extra feature on the DVD is a retrospective on Grimwade, who unfortunately passed away at a relatively young age in 1990. Present-day reminiscences and commentary by former colleagues are interspersed with clips from a 1987 interview of Grimwade.
Speaking of DVD features, “Kinda” has an Optional CGI Effects Sequence. In other words, the giant cardboard snake at the end of the story that is supposed to be the Mara in its true form can be substituted by a computer generated replacement. When I first saw “Kinda” in the mid-1980s, I honestly didn’t think the giant snake looked too bad. That was probably because A) I was an eight-year-old kid in an era before any sort of even semi-realistic CGI was possible and B) after four confusing episodes that went totally over my head, I was probably just relieved to see a monster, any monster, even if it didn’t appear completely realistic! Of course, when I re-watched “Kinda” a decade or so later, yeah, by that point the giant snake was beginning to look rather less believable to my older, more cynical eyes. In any case, on the DVD that rather goofy-looking serpent has been seamlessly substituted for a CGI depiction of the Mara. And it looks great. Seriously, you might almost think there really was a malevolently hissing twenty-foot-tall snake with razor-sharp fangs writhing and coiling about on the BBC studio floor.
As I mentioned earlier, when I was eight years old, I found “Kinda” to be almost impenetrable. Now, at age 36, what is my reaction? Well, while I have a much better comprehension of Christopher Bailey’s serial, there are still elements of the story that are somewhat befuddling.
My main query deals with whether or not the “A Plot” of Hindle going insane actually even connects with the “B Plot” of the Mara possessing Tegan and then Aris. I can only see one possible point of intersection. We are told by the Kinda priestess Panna that “Our suffering is the Mara’s delight, our madness the Mara’s meat & drink.” Perhaps the Mara, which is telepathic, learned that Hindle had wired the Dome with enough explosives to destroy everything in a thirty-mile radius. The Mara, controlling Aris, might have been leading the Kinda to attack the Dome in order to provoke Hindle into detonating the bombs, causing widespread death and destruction. Then again, it could all have been a huge coincidence.
I’ve heard theories by other people that the three figures in the black void are based upon Tegan’s memories of opening scene of the story, stolen from her mind by the Mara and twisted into grotesque parodies. The ancient couple playing chess is Adric and Nyssa, the sadistic young man is the Doctor, and the abstract metal sculpture next to them is the TARDIS. It’s an interesting idea.
The Kinda themselves are an enigma. At first glance, they do appear to be a very primitive people. Yet they are actually telepathic. They wear necklaces that represent the double helix of DNA, indicating knowledge of molecular biology. They constructed the giant wind chimes, something the Doctor observes would have required a high degree of technical skill. And they utilize the Box of Jhana, which appears to be a simple wooden container, but which is actually a healing device capable of restoring balance to individuals with severe mental instability.
The Box of Jhana, mental projections of events that are simultaneously past and future occurrences, and the ability of the wind chimes to allow the Kinda to share their dreams: all seem to be examples of Clarke’s Law, i.e. any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. In fact, once could hypothesize that the Kinda are so incredibly advanced that they long ago passed the point where they needed to rely on conventional technology. They are now at a point of mental and spiritual development that they live in perfect harmony with Deva Loka, negating any need for houses, mass transportation, weapons, electrical power, or anything else resembling the mechanical devices which we are dependent upon in our daily lives. Even the Mara, which appears to be some kind of demon or evil god, is probably a powerful alien entity originating from another dimension or plane of existence.
(As I understand it, the Mara’s origins are explored in Bailey’s sequel “Snakedance,” but I haven’t seen that one in a couple of decades so offhand I don’t recall. I really should to pick it up on DVD one of these days.)
The one gaping plot hole in “Kinda” is that, when all is said and done, we never do learn what happened to the missing members of the expedition! In his novelization of the serial, Terrance Dicks has the Doctor hypothesizing that the lost members of the team had each been possessed by the Mara but, unlike Tegan, they resisted giving up control of their forms and were killed. Dicks was always good at spotting plot holes in Doctor Who stories and coming up with explanations for them in his books, the sort of exposition that there unfortunately wasn’t enough time to delve into within the actual television programs.
Watching the “making of” feature on the DVD, it was at first surprising to learn that Christopher H. Bidmead, the script editor on the previous season of Doctor Who, was the one who first commissioned Christopher Bailey to write “Kinda.” After all, one of Bidmead goals as script editor was to bring back “hard science” to the series. In contrast, “Kinda” is a very mystical, metaphysical story. And many people unfortunately regard science and spirituality as mutually exclusive concepts (although I personally believe that there is room for both in our understanding of the universe). Of course, “Kinda” is also a very cerebral story, and Bidmead wanted to produce stories that challenged viewers and made them think. In this respect, “Kinda” is successful.
I think “Kinda” was slightly ahead of its time. It is a story that is very suited to the age of VHS and DVD, when it can be viewed more than once. “Kinda” is a complex story with a number of layers, and each time I watch it I come away with a little bit more.