Elizabeth Sandifer's "TARDIS Eruditorum" blog project kicked off in January 2011: a phenomenally ambitious effort to tell the story of Doctor Who and its place within British culture from 1963 to the present. There is something about Doctor Who - its longevity, its hold on those who fall down its rabbit hole, and its ravenous nature when it comes to devouring stories, weird imagery, mythology, and intertextuality - that spurs fans to write serious academic works about it, more than you will find for almost any other television programme. Such volumes vary from Tat Wood and Lawrence Miles' About Time to the Black Archive series (critical monographs on individual stories). Within this pantheon, however, Sandifer's work stands out as exceptional for a variety of reasons:
(1) while proceeding in chronological order from 1963 to the present might be an approach taken by any number of other guidebooks, few are as meticulous or explicit about tracing Doctor Who's relationship with the wider culture surrounding it. In Sandifer's hands, analysis of Doctor Who is not just about appreciating themes or characterisation, nor is it a matter of documenting ever-changing television production over the decades, although both of these approaches are frequently factored into her work. Rather, she uses the lens of Doctor Who to examine stories the United Kingdom tells about itself - its obsessions and fears, the way it uses its literary heritage, and its material social circumstances - in a startlingly original manner I have not otherwise encountered. One imagines a similar sort of project could be embarked upon with the Bond franchise, and the way its films reflect changing social mores, but I find it highly dubious it would yield results that are anywhere near as interesting or as insightful, not least because Doctor Who's mercurial, ever-shifting nature allows for a far greater range of perspectives, styles and influences than Bond has ever had or could ever have. It has been noted in some quarters that the fact that Sandifer is American leads her to misinterpret certain things or come to unlikely conclusions; I have to say I've never felt this particularly strongly, and would indeed go so far as to say that the perspective of someone looking in from the outside (who has obviously conducted extensive research and immersed herself in British culture) is in some ways more valuable than that of a Brit, and in some respects permits fresher insight.
(2) there is genuine power and bite to the arguments she sets forth. Far too much fan writing falls into the same traps of regurgitating the familiar positives or negatives about a story, or ticking off continuity points of interest as though everything set down in the Holy Writ of Rassilon were actually true in our universe and the pleasure of verifying it falls to the truly devout. By being explicitly aware and indeed profoundly focussed on Doctor Who as fiction but also as having a solid ethical dimension rooted in the real world, Sandifer's essays are as likely to be rousing polemics against a story's abhorrent politics or sensitive discussion about the nature of bullying as they are discussions of production codes and which audio drama contradicts which novel. This inherently politicised approach will probably not be for everyone; clearly, Sandifer is approaching the series from a leftist perspective, although if this fact surprises anybody you have to wonder whether they've ever watched much Doctor Who in the first place. It lends her work a tremendously compassionate and humane quality which also demands the highest of ethical and moral standards, while often being aware and forgiving of the times the series falls short of meeting those standards.
(3) Sandifer is an extremely literate and well-read critic, and it shows, although for the most part not in an obviously showy way. This extends both back into wider literary movements as well as forward to the specifics of television and concerns about spectacle. Clearly, Marxist criticism is a major influence, and she tips her metaphorical hat to Guy Debord and the Situationist International on more than one occasion, the concept of 'psychogeography' being as it is a direct influence on her own term 'psychochronography'. But in this volume alone you will find an eclectic mix of references to Timothy Leary and LSD trips, Laura Mulvey, Golden Age sci-fi, Kubrick, Cathy Come Home, holiday camps, and Talleyrand, and discussion of such concepts as the aforementioned psychochronography, the alchemy of the TARDIS, and the fact that the Doctor has originated from the Land of Fiction. It is the presence of provocative discourse on psychedelia, metafiction, and the countercultural movements of the day which enlivens Sandifer's essays enormously and which elevates them above the bulk of fan criticism.
(4) despite the above, the writing is mostly jargon-free, engaging, and extremely entertaining. I frequently find myself laughing out loud at the author's dry asides or sarcastic observations, and she has a gift for a memorable turn of phrase. You will not always agree with Sandifer (though find me a writer or indeed a person of whom that cannot be said?!), but you will rarely if ever be bored. It is no surprise that the blog series quickly developed a sizeable readership, nor that it has inspired a number of similar projects: I ran a blog along similar lines myself for a time, but far more accomplished examples include GigaWho, Darren Mooney, and Andrew Ellard. The debt these critics, all extremely good in and of themselves, owe Sandifer is significant, and invariably gratefully acknowledged. You could fill a large bookcase with books about Doctor Who, but any such collection that does not include the work of this giant of the field is seriously incomplete.
This particular volume, adapted from the section of the blog covering the tenure of Patrick Troughton as the Doctor, spans 1966-69, and traces the show's growing engagement with psychedelia and youth culture and then the ways in which the formulaic and arguably xenophobic base-under-siege template stymies further experimentation, culminating in a blisteringly good take on 'The War Games' which coincides with the spirit of '68 coming to an end. Sandifer is particularly good at not being cowed by the momentousness of many of these stories: every fan brain has an in some ways unhelpfully overawed tendency to exclaim "the first new Doctor story! the first Brigadier story!" and the like. Instead of approaching them with hindsight, she tends to peel back the dusty layers of history they have accrued and consider how they might have gone down at the time and what they would've said to their original audience. The value of this approach is obvious; no one making 'The Krotons' would have dreamed we'd be discussing it in 2019, after all. It is also in this volume that you will find one of the very best pieces of Doctor Who criticism ever written, Sandifer's staggeringly good piece on 'The Mind Robber', which has been justifiably anthologised in the first volume of the 'Outside In' series of books from ATB Publishing. I can't delve into all its complexities here, but let's just say it recontextualises an already superlative story in a truly original way. If I have one small criticism, it's that Sandifer doesn't pay enough attention to Zoe in the way she tends to give at least some space in the book to analysing each of the major companions and the role they play; I felt Wendy Padbury's 'precocious genius' logician was a little short-changed. In this book version there are also a number of additional essays not found on the blog, many of which turn out to be unexpected highlights - I'd never even heard of the Telos novella 'Wonderland', but now I'm minded to seek it out on the basis of the piece discussing it here, and the same goes for a book I was already aware of, Stephen Baxter's 'The Wheel of Ice'.
There really is hours of reading to be enjoyed and savoured here: essays and insights I will return to time and time again. I cannot recommend this book (and the series as a whole) highly enough.