System Shock Millennium Shock

Target Novels' Companion Series Harry Sullivan's War

Author	Ian Marter
ISBN	0-426-20250-3
Published	1986

Synopsis:Ten years after parting company with the Doctor, Harry is involved with MI5 and finds himself under attack by unknown enemies.

• A Review by Douglas B. Killings
• A Review by Richard Radcliffe
• A Review by Finn Clark

A Review by Douglas B. Killings 27/11/00

I have just finished re-reading Ian Marter's Harry Sullivan's War.

I did this mostly because Justin Richards' two Harry Sullivan novels (System Shock and Millennium Shock) have finally made it to the top of my to-read pile, and I thought it would be a pleasant precursor before plunging into those books. You see, my memories of this book were pretty vague -- something to do with spies who are after a nerve gas sample was about all I could recall. Yet, for the most part, those memories were also positive, even fondly so. I distinctly remember picking it up soon after it originally came out and going through it in pretty much one sitting, coming away somewhat satisfied and hoping for Marter to be so kind enough as to write more adventures starring his alter-ego. It was, I thought at the time, a far better entry than that other companion novel, Turlough and the Earthlink Dilemma -- a work which I continue to despise to this very day. It was fast-paced, exciting, slightly mysterious, a thoroughly enjoyable quick read. Or so, that is what my recollections told me.

But alas, having now re-read the book again for the first time in more than a decade, I must confess: it seems that memory distorts.

Perhaps it is because that since then I have read uncounted volumes of Clancy, LeCarre, Fleming, and others. Perhaps, too, it is because the novelty of having an original Doctor Who novel not based on a TV story has long since worn off. Or maybe it is just because I've matured over the years. But whatever the reason, my sole reaction to reading this book once again was an appalled "Egad, what was I thinking?!", followed by a realization that had this novel been submitted for publication today, it would have been laughed out of the editor's office and never seen the light of day.

What really makes this book grate on me now is the plot. Fifteen years have not been kind to it, and while a single reading might not have brought faults to mind, a second has made glaringly obvious. There are numerous plot holes, and more than a few unanswered central questions (Why do the villains start out trying to kill Harry? Why do they bother to bust him out of prison, and then let him go without watching him?). Main characters do stupid things for no apparent reason (Why doesn't Harry just report these attacks on him to a superior immediately?); the villains go out of their way to make it easy to be caught (Why do they go to Paris to attend a dinner party when they know their cover has been blown?); no effort is made to explain who the villains represent, just what they want (are they Russian spies? Freelance intelligence? Eco-terrorists?). Action scenes seem to occur less for any plot reason, but more because Marter felt determined to have one every ten pages or so. And then, to top it all off, what is Harry's number one reaction to having been in danger? Go home, have a spot of tea, go to sleep, and deal with it some other time. Harry Sullivan, an imbecile indeed.

Characterization? Well, Harry is at least a likeable protagonist, even though you have to wonder about his common sense at times. However the main villain, Alexander Shire, comes off as being something of a drip. As a master spy (or whatever he is) he is pretty much second-rate, the kind you might expect to find in some cheap, bad, B-movie knock-off of a Bond flick. His actions make no sense, even when he tries to explain them, and as a consequence he comes off less as the adversary that must be overcome and more as the incompetent wanna-be who spins webs far too wide and cumbersome for him to manage. The Brigadier and Sarah-Jane both have walk-on parts, mostly because (I suspect) Marter thought the reader would expect them to drop in at some point. In one of the more annoying aspects of the story, Marter takes some considerable effort to make it seem that the Brigadier might be involved in the shady goings on, but later this whole potential plot line is dismissed almost as an afterthought.

The writing is hackneyed to say the least, a mixture of the grade-school level of the old Target novelizations punctuated by some big words in long, unwieldy paragraphs. Descriptions are sometimes confusing, often laborious. Events that one would think are of some significance are merely summarized, while attempts at action sequence come off less like exciting moments in the story and more like the play-by-play commentary by a bored sports announcer. Then there are all those exclamation points, betraying Marter's roots as a writer (or, in his words, "hack") of basically children's novelizations. All that can be said for it is that it is not overly cumbersome, and one can pretty much cover the entire book in a single lazy afternoon.

Marter's objective clearly was to emulate the old Ian Fleming James Bond novels, minus the sex. Unfortunately, he does not bring it off very well. At the core Marter has a good idea for a story, but the story he tells is just too haphazard to be enjoyable. I get the feeling that Marter had an idea as to what he wanted and may even have had a rough map on how to get there, but the points in between were all vague and subject to much improvisation. One sometimes gets the impression that his entire method of plotting a story was to throw out a few random, disparate elements and hope he could tie it all together at some point toward the end.

Re-reading this book was a real disappointment. I had entered it thinking it was going to be a pleasant trip back; I came away feeling cheated and appalled. It is, at least, not quite as bad as the worst Virgin or BBC novel, but it does get close. And it still beats the hell out of Turlough and the Earthlink Dilema, which is so far the only original Doctor Who novel in existence that I have found to be synonymous with the word "kindling". All I can say is, I hope the two Justin Richards novels are much, much better. Marter showed, at the very least, that Harry Sullivan could work as a spy; it's just a damn shame that Marter's attempt to cast him as one was so positively dreadful.

Rating: 3

A Review by Richard Radcliffe 14/9/02

It is quite interesting looking down the list of Doctor Who's Companions, and seeing which ones would be interesting in their own series. Sarah-Jane, the Brigadier, Ace, Romana are the only ones that readily spring to mind. Ironically the 3 Companion Novels that were published are none of these. I suspect this particular book was after a proposal by the very actor who portrayed Harry Sullivan on TV - Ian Marter.

Harry Sullivan, off his portrayal of the TV, was a likeable, bumbling, traditional sort of bloke. There was very little to dislike about Harry, and you could rely on him to do his best, even if his best often made things a little worse! Ian Marter sensibly keeps this character intact. He is, after all, the man who probably knows Harry Sullivan the best.

Harry is placed in a James Bond-type set-up. Utilizing staple ingredients that make that series of Films such a success, he puts innocent Harry in with Espionage, microfiche, power-crazed madmen and does it well. Harry's military connections are the reasons he gets involved, but his bumbling nature is a sharp contrast to the power struggles that carry on around him.

This book is entertaining to read. It is full of witty scenes, with Harry at the core of it all. Will he save the day? There is hero lurking inside all of us, even within Harry Sullivan. It's an adventure story, similar at times not to just James Bond, but the Hardy Boys adventures (which was great as I used to love these adventures when I was younger). The ordinary man can make a difference, but it is with Harry's charming personality that we ultimately identify with. He is constantly astounded in this novel to be where he is, to be involved in the action he is involved in. It's all a constant bemusement to him, and provides the book with a quaint perspective.

If all the Companion novels were in this vein, then this series would have been wonderful. To bring out all the best characteristics of 1 character, and place him in such situations that emphasize those traits - takes some skill. Ian Marter has produced a delightful book that is one of the best side-steps in Book form DW has seen. 7/10

A Review by Finn Clark 25/2/03

That was a hoot! It's pretty bad, but endearingly so... like a Boys' Own yarn that's been dug up fifty years after its time. It seems to think it's a John Buchan or Ian Fleming novel, but that's not its main point of interest. Its action scenes flag after a while. No, the real genius of Harry Sullivan's War lies in the unintentional comedy of its lead character.

It's like something out of P.G. Wodehouse! Dear old Harry, still wanting to prove he's not an imbecile, bumbles his way through a goofy espionage plot while trying to fend off amorous friends and femme fatales. They're buxom! They're kinky! (See page 28.) And they're a complete mystery to Harry, who's much happier rowing across a loch while remembering his time in the Dartmouth College Ace Eight. Has this man ever kissed a girl? For a while I thought this would be a comedy classic; alas the women soon disappear from the picture and Harry merely has to deal with conspiracies, politically incorrect strongmen and attempted murders. He's much happier with those, but unfortunately we're not. When it's trying to be a straight thriller, the book is only so-so at best.

The plot doesn't holds up to inspection. Why does a strongman try to kill Harry on page one? What was really going on with the Brigadier? (I liked all those Van Gogh paintings, though.) Things slowly develop a semblance of sense, but then everything falls apart at the end with a messy non-denoument and a death that isn't. (Ian Marter wanted to kill Harry, but Target thankfully said no. There's nothing wrong with it in principle, but this wasn't the book for it.)

We meet various interesting people. As well as the Brigadier (post-Mawdryn Undead) and Sarah Jane Smith (whom Harry hasn't seen for ten years, since Terror of the Zygons), there's Harry's cleaning lady Mrs Wrigglesworth, his codebreaking chum Percy Jolly and his solicitor Cedric Hetherington of Hetherington Popplewell and Bright in Baker Street. Further details: Harry turns 41 during the novel (his birthday's in May) and he owns a flat in St John's Wood, London.

This novel has too much run-of-the-mill spy action to be particularly recommendable. (Though in fairness I should point out that when Ian Marter wrote this back in 1986 the Iron Curtain hadn't yet fallen and Russia was still the evil empire. 'Twas a different world then.) Those bits aren't terrible, but they're not exactly good either. However the book really flies when Harry's well-meaning goofiness comes to the fore and the narrative almost becomes a spoof. Harry gives himself the pseudonym of Laury L. Varnish (yes, that's right) and fights evil organisations called EAR and EARACHES. I laughed myself silly.