The episode Rose holds a special place in Doctor Who history. It was, if nothing else, the beginning of the series 21st century regeneration, securing it new generations of fans and launching a series that shows no signs of stopping nearly nineteen years later. As such, it comes as no surprise that it was among the first to be chosen for novelizing as nostalgia for the Target books of decades past caught up with Modern Who. Given that the episode only ran forty-odd minutes, how well could it translate to the page?
Russell T Davies, writer of both the TV episode and its prose version more than a decade later, would take a cue from Target books that expanded on their TV counterparts such as The Cave Monsters or the likes of Remembrance of the Daleks or Ghost Light, Davies takes the world’s reintroduction to Doctor Who and builds upon it. Something that’s clear from the opening pages of the novelization which focus not on Rose herself but on the mentioned but unseen character of Wilson who has a rather meta realization about his existence before his demise. It’s an opening which sets the tone for the slim volume that follows.
Because wherever Davies can, he fleshes out the episode so well known to fans since 2005. Mickey gets an entire band put together around him, bringing in a whole new group of supporting characters. Readers get to learn more about Clive, his family, and what lies behind his quest to find out more about the Doctor. It’s in that those chapters that Davies does something he was unwilling to do on TV: acknowledge Doctor Who’s pre-2005 past with mentions of Doctors that were and would be to come. Scenes that didn’t make the final cut on-screen appear, from the infamous burning couch to a larger role for Mickey in the Nestene’s lair. It’s a nice fleshing out out of a familiar tale which adds something for even the most jaded fan to take notice of as they read.
But those extensions have their limits. Despite how slim of a book this is, there are times when it feels that Davies prose simply exists to chew up word count. The sequence where Mickey is captured by a plastic garbage bin is a case in point, going on for pages instead of being the throwaway scene it was on-screen (and, worse, still ending with the cringe inducing satisfied belch). Nowhere is Davies more guilty of that than in the finale, a sequence that lasted only a few minutes onscreen. While it’s nice to have Mickey’s role put back and thus giving the character more of a presence, it also helps to drag it out. Worse comes with the Auton attack on London, a sequence that amount to a handful of minutes on screen, which now consumes entire chapters of page count without really adding anything narratively. All of which is a shame as it hampers what would otherwise have been a strong novelization.
As I learned in 2015 when I read his 1996 Virgin New Adventures novel Damaged Good, one has to take the rough with the smooth with Davies as a prose writer. His “writer’s cut” of Rose has its moments, particularly in how it fleshes out the supporting characters and adds a wider friend circle for Mickey. Yet building up other moments causes them to lose tension or simply weighs down the book. Something that, ironically, leaves the Rose novelization as a case of damaged goods for fans to pick their way through.