



In 2013, the most controversial human being of all time, Steven Moffat, wrote the 50th Anniversary special of Doctor Who, in which multiple versions of the Doctor were summoned back to the most important day of his life, the day he saved the universe by wiping out his own people. A dizzying blockbuster of a special, it introduced a whole new war-time Doctor played by John Hurt, was shown in cinemas worldwide, and currently sits at #4 on IMDB’s list of the highest-rated episodes of the show. Now, Moffat’s novelisation of the story, published by Target Books, is available from Amazon for seven quid, boasting a gorgeous retro cover and a nice pocket-friendly size. Tempting. But, come on, you’re a discerning reader, you’re not just going to throw away seven well-earned pounds on the first former-showrunner who comes along and novelises a classic episode, are you? No, of course not. Tongues would wag. So, the question you need answered is, “Is The Day of the Doctor worth it?”. Well, let’s find out. By which I mean that I will find out, and you will listen. Enjoy!









The Retro Cover









The first thing to know is that the novel isn’t the copy-and-paste job you might have feared. The book clocks in at 232 pages, perhaps only two-thirds of which is just retelling the episode, and the added material is often of real benefit to the story. Take the Tenth Doctor’s escapades with Queen Elizabeth I, for example, which were brief and comedic on-screen, but are given a context here that lets the romanticised nature of Tennant’s Doctor shine; she is his constant visitor in the torture chamber that she consigned him to, and finds herself “reduced to giggles and squeals by his stories”, “telling him tales of such intimacy that the torturer asked if they wanted to be alone”. The Time War is still wisely avoided, as it’s been promised as such an epic conflict between the Doctors people and the Daleks that showing it would inevitably be disappointing. Also, the Zygon antagonists are given a more prominent role, improving the first act by treating their take-over of the British gallery as a serious threat - and, of course, no-one ever complained about getting more John Hurt.





Not every addition is welcome, though. Particularly grating are the introductions to each chapter, which are addressed to the reader and set up mysteries that are about to begin, but which serve no real narrative purpose save allowing Moffat to point out how clever he’s about to be every thirty pages or so. Some are funny, most will make you roll your eyes. Also, plot points that could have benefitted from more explanation don’t always get them: it’s still not clear exactly how a whole planet is frozen in time, for instance, which is quite an important moment. Is the planet in the painting now? In a stasis cube somewhere? How does that even work? The book offers as little answers as the special did. More than any of these specifics, though, the effect of the lengthened story is to tone the pace into something more contemplative than the original, and overall, the added content actually made me wish the original episode was twenty minutes longer. Coming from someone who thinks five-second adverts drag on, that’s saying something.





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Give them some room to breathe: The Tenth Doctor and Elizabeth’s relationship.





So far, so pretentious. But with all these added scenes and prolonged introductions, is The Day of the Doctor still as bonkers-ly fun as the original? Well, no. In fact, the moments that might have given you shivers in 2013 just kind of happen here. The Doctors escape from a painting as if they were stepping out for milk, for instance, and Peter Capaldi’s iconic “No sir, all thirteen!” introduction simply doesn’t feature. This is where you notice that Moffat has never written a novel before. Although his Moffat-y comedic instincts remain, offering such fanboy-triggering gags as the early show being in black-and-white because “the first two Doctors were colour-blind", his prose often struggles to capture the madcap joy he brought to the original. Take the scene where Matt Smith clings onto the TARDIS doors as it is carried over London. In the episode, this was a barn-storming introduction, with blaring Murray Gold music and visuals that made your hairs stand on end. Here, sentences like “He was hanging headlong out of the flapping TARDIS doors, phone at his ear, with Clara holding on his ankles.” do little more than convey a vague sense of inconvenience. If you’re coming into this novel looking for that same rush of energy you got six years ago, then, spend your money elsewhere. Those epic set-pieces just don’t work on a page as they did on a twenty-foot screen.





Thankfully, Moffat knows this. In a complete tonal shift, he moves the focus away from the action and towards the characters. Take the Four Hundred Years of the Doctor chapter, for example, where the Doctors are locked in the Tower of London together and the same events are told to us three times, first from the perspective of John Hurt’s Doctor, then two hundred years later by Tennant, and finally another two centuries on, from Matt Smith’s point of view. Moffat gives each incarnation his own emotional process, an appraisal both of the situation they’re faced with and of their life in general - a way of arguing with his own words both four centuries and ten seconds after he said them. For instance, Tennant’s Doctor describes Smith’s by saying “When he frowned, he was a nine-year-old, but when he smiled you saw his eyes. It was as if he found the universe infinitely cruel, but was too gentle to mention it. Sitting there, I wondered how I looked through that sad old stare, and how long it would be until I found out.” They confront each other with the question of whether they ever counted the children on their home world the day they wiped it out to end the time war. They fight, reminisce, argue, and assess the different stages of their shared life. Although the puzzle of their escape is undoubtably pretty, it is this introspection, one person forced to confront the demons of his past and future three times all at once, that is truly beautiful, and it remains beautiful throughout the novel. While the action is subdued, it is the character dynamics within the Doctor himself where the novel shines far beyond the TV special, and shows you that The Day of the Doctor was the pre-cursor to Heaven Sent all along. In the end, the greatest achievement of the book is that it makes the dramatic choice the Doctor must make at the conclusion of this story, the choice between genocide and endless conflict, with his own soul hanging in the balance, even more dramatic.





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Tormented by each other: The three Doctors.









In conclusion, The Day of the Doctor is covered in the artistic fingerprints of its author. Play “Moffat Bingo” with this novel, and the game will be over by the second page. It’s chock-full of comedy, timey-wimey cleverness, smug discursions, and undeniable creativity. Even if you detest his style, though, the novel still works as a study of the flawed being who chooses to call himself “The Doctor”. For that reason, despite its slow action and annoying chapter-introductions, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to anyone who loves the show; you’ll finish it feeling like you have a greater understanding not just of a certain incarnation of the Doctor, but of the one soul that is carried through all of them. Of course, if you’re not a Doctor Who fan then you will want to throw this book out of the window by page five and frankly, I have no idea why you bothered reading this review. Goodbye.





THE DAY OF THE DOCTOR, BY STEVEN MOFFAT: 7.5/10