Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 16 - 1982

"Know you now of days long past. The time when the world was young. When sorcery thrived and wild adventure was forever in the offering..."

1982:

The Trivia:

• Jackie Chan has always been famous for pushing himself to the limit, but for his 1982 film "Dragon Lord" he went just that little bit further. For a single sequence - a shuttlecock match based on the traditional Chinese game jianzi - Chan reportedly demanded perfection. The scene was a full seven‑minute set piece involving multiple actors volleying the feathered shuttlecock back and forth with their feet, knees, and heads, all choreographed to flow like a martial arts fight. Shuttlecocks are notoriously hard to control, and with so many performers on screen, even the smallest mistake meant starting over. Chan kept the cameras rolling and pushed his cast through take after take after take, until every kick, pass, and reaction landed exactly as he envisioned. By the time he was satisfied, the production had burned through over 1,000 takes.

• When the Disney film "Tron" hit cinemas, it was unlike anything audiences had ever seen before. The studio had poured money into a bold experiment: a film that blended live action with computer‑ generated imagery, at a time when the technology was still in its infancy. The glowing suits, the light cycles, the surreal landscapes inside the computer world - all of it was ground-breaking. It started to look like the future of cinema. But when it came time for the Oscars, "Tron" wasn’t even nominated for Best Visual Effects. The reason? The Academy ruled that 'visual effects' meant models, matte paintings, and optical tricks - the traditional crafts of Hollywood. So using computers was “cheating". How little they knew...

• "Casablanca" is arguably one of  the most famous movies in the history of film. In 1982 freelance writer Chuck Ross devised an experiment. He retyped the script of "Casablanca", changing its title to "Everybody Comes to Rick's" (the title of the original play). He also amended  the name of Rick's sidekick from Sam to Dooley (after Dooley Wilson, the actor who played that character), and submitted it to 217 agencies as a script supposedly by an unknown writer, "Erik Demos". Ninety returned it unread. Seven never responded. Eighteen scripts apparently got lost in the mail. Thirty-three agencies actually recognised it. However, thirty-eight agencies claimed to have read it, but rejected it because they thought the script was not good enough.

The Memory:

The Sword and the Sorcerer

All kids of a certain age will remember their local "video shop". Much like comic book stores full of back issues, video rental shops had their own particular smell, their own ambience. Cheap carpet tiles, an ancient looking television set, the 'adult' section shoved ungainly in a rack in the corner. If films were your drug of choice, the guy behind the counter was your dealer.  I'm not talking the glossy, brightly lit branches of a "Blockbusters" - these were the places that some village entrepreneur decided to open up to provide surrounding residents with VHS copies of the latest Hollywood movies (along with a tiny sample of Betamax format films before that format died an unloved death).

You have to understand that in the 1980s (in the UK at least) it could take up to five years for a film to make it's way from the cinema to the three terrestrial channels (Channel 4 didn't start until November of 1982). If you didn't get to the two screen Odeon or single screen ABC cinemas in the nearest town, that was it in terms of seeing the film until BBC 1 showed it at Christmas or Easter. Sure home taping had begun to take off as the price of video cassettes tumbled - by this point I was regularly recording "Doctor Who" and a whole host of other things off of the television - but *new* films? -  the video shop was really your only option (unless you had access to "pirate" recordings, often from a man driving around honking his car horn and then opening his boot to show the few meagre cassettes he had available. (I vaguely recall getting to see an appalling copy of "E.T." this way).

The thing is, local shops didn't have the cash to buy many copies of the same film. If you were very lucky they would have two or three of a brand new title, but more often than not there would just be a single solitary plastic box on the shelf in the "new releases" section - and that would obviously be missing too if someone had already rented the cassette. You could hang around in the vain hope that someone might return the film while you were there, or be told by the proprietor to pop back in a couple of hours on the off chance that the current renter returned it on time. Either that or choose a different film to watch.

(My local video shop after it had closed. That parish office used to be a betting shop!)

My local video emporium was where I first got to see teen sex comedies such as "Porky's" and "Screwballs", classics like "The Blues Brothers", action films like "First Blood" and horror fare such as"Alien" (naturally I had to get my dad to rent those ones!). This was before the infamous Video Recordings Act of 1984 which saw a whole host of titles classed as "video nasties" and banned. Softcore porn sat side by side with titles like "Driller Killer" and "I Spit On Your Grave". There would always be a copy of "The Warriors" or something starring Chuck Norris - plus a plethora of weird and wonderful titles that you had never heard of but whose cover illustrations and blurb on the back enticed you in. "Rent me" they pleaded. "I'm not crap, honest".

The early 80s was when "sword and sorcery" movies hit it big. We'd had the wonderfully cheesy "Hawk The Slayer" at the start of the decade, followed by "Dragonslayer" and "Excalibur". 1982 was dominated by the Arnold Schwarzenegger starring "Conan The Barbarian", but that wasn't my favourite. Not even Marc Singers "The Beastmaster" came close. No - the 80s best S&S movie by a country mile was aptly named "The Sword and the Sorcerer".

Okay, so anyone seeing the film for the first time will clearly realise that it's a *bit* of a rip off of Conan. The young child protagonist who sees his family killed by an tyrannical invader and vows revenge - growing up in exile to be a muscly rogue mercenary. The evil wizard with his own agenda. The scantily clad beautiful women. The rampant violence. Even that poster above could have been ripped from a Frank Frazetta book cover. So far, so cliché.

But the thing that sets "The Sword and the Sorcerer" above many of it's contemporaries is that - much like the Dino De Laurentis "Flash Gordon" -  it never takes itself too seriously. The hero Talon is witty and intelligent (if rather boorish) and more in the mold of the swashbucklers of the early days of cinema, rather than the hulking brute who just uses his strength. He's also refreshingly honest - agreeing to help the rebellion against nasty Titus Cromwell not for gold or power, but because it will gain him a night of passion with the lovely Alana. The company of "heroes" bicker amongst each other, and it's this kind of knowing, wink-at-the-audience, "yeah we know it's a bit cheap but it's a hell of a lot of fun" attitude that makes the film so entertaining. It also had a lot of influence on later entries in the genre. You can probably trace a (wobbly, meandering) line from here to the "The Princess Bride" five years later.

I can't talk about Talon without mentioning his sword - after all it get's top billing in the film's title. This is not just any normal broadsword. It has three blades, two of which can be fired at the opponent via some sort of compressed air technical doohickery. Plus it has another knife hidden in the hilt. Back in the day I thought this was one of the cleverest things ever. Utterly impractical and you never see Talon having to go and retrieve his blades by yanking them out of someone's skull, but hey, it's still mightily impressive. It's also enchanted apparently, though how and by whom is never explained as far as I can recall.

So what about the Sorcerer then? Well his name is Xusia of Delos and he's a particularly ugly looking specimen - but then so would you be if you had been entombed after using banned dark magic and then resurrected centuries later by Titus Cromwell's pet witch! Xusia aids the evil ruler in finally conquering the kingdom of Ehdan  - but his reward is a literal knife in the back and he flings himself off a cliff, while Cromwell goes on to consolidate his stranglehold over Ehdan across many years. It's a swift end for one of the supposed main characters you might think.

But after Talon and his friends have fought Cromwell to a standstill, there is a massive twist towards the end of the film, as the kings sour faced adviser Count Machelli - standing in plain sight all the time - reveals himself to have been Xusia in disguise all along, and with plans to take control of the kingdom himself.

"He's a sorcerer" you might say. "Of course he can use illusion to conceal himself". Ah, but it's not the fact that Xusia was camouflaged that is the memorable moment from this movie - it's how he reveals himself. Machelli *literally* tears his own head in half, slime oozes everywhere and the hideous visage of the sorcerer struggles free of his meat-suit. It's one of those images which you never forget. Visually impressive in a film which had such a small budget, but also genuinely disgusting. This is the part that all my school friends talked about when news of what a great film it was started to spread around the classrooms.

After this stunning revelation. the final battle features lots of clashing swords and gritted teeth plus further triple blade action and more hidden weapons than you can shake a Cimmerian at. Cromwell get his just deserts, Xusia is finally killed (twice) and Alana is saved from a huge snake between her legs. Yes this film is also full of incredibly thinly veiled innuendo. Following a night of celebration, feasting and not forgetting sex with the princess, Talon rides off into the sunset with his band of mercenaries.

"Watch out for Talon's next adventure - Tales of the Ancient Empire - coming soon" we were promised. But despite keeping an eye on the video shop shelves for the next few years, it never materialised (apparently it was eventually released a staggering 28 years later in 2010, with a totally different cast and only a cameo from Talon. I've never seen it. One reviewer's comment was that it's only redeeming quality was that it was laughably short. Ouch.)

Overall then "the Sword and the Sorcerer" is camp, low budget, has some terrible dialogue and some even hammier acting. But it's full of fun ideas, great action, visceral special effects, blood and gore (Talon is even crucified at one point) and some mild nudity. What more could a teenage boy have wanted? Its "don't care" attitude and word of mouth about how enjoyable it was meant it became a cult classic, not just amongst my friends at school, but also in the wider world. It made near ten times it's original budget and was the most successful independent film of the year.

Having looked at the home media version for the film that is available now, I see that it is rated 18 in the UK - which makes me wonder how on earth we were allowed to rent it back in 1982. I know that the clampdown was not in place for another couple of years but even so, this was not a film that my parents rented for me - I just went and picked it up of the shelf. Perhaps I just looked older than I really was. It's decades since I have seen it, but this look-back just *might* make me search out an old DVD copy on eBay...


Honourable mentions:

• Star Fleet - Not many of us recall this science fiction puppet series, but those that do have fond memories. As far as I know, it was only shown the once on Saturday mornings at the end of 1982. But this was not a Gerry Anderson show (no strings here) and for most children was probably their first exposure to some of the prevalent themes of Japanese anime. It featured a 24 episode long story arc, huge spaceships weird aliens, an ancient looking sailing ship in space and of course the heroes craft combining together to form an awesome giant robot - the Dai-X. We had never seen anything like it before. The UK version is also justly famous for the great theme tune which was later covered by Brian May from "Queen". I have the DVD box set around here somewhere, and really should give it a watch to see if it lives up to that nostalgic glow. Now if I could only find those comic strips from "Look-In" magazine...

• The Dark Crystal - Another fantastical story featuring puppets, but a far cry from "Star Fleet". Jim Henson and Frank Oz’s "The Dark Crystal" is something entirely different: a mythic fantasy that treats puppetry not as comedy or children’s entertainment, but as a vehicle for epic storytelling. What strikes me, is how surprisingly adult the themes are. This isn’t a cosy fairy tale. It’s a story about corruption, balance, and the fragility of existence. The Skeksis, with their grotesque decadence, remain unnerving even decades later, while the gentle Mystics embody a kind of melancholy wisdom. The film casts its spell from the very first frame, pulling you into a dreamlike universe that feels both ancient and timeless. I must have watched it dozens of times over the years, and each viewing reminds me how singular it is - the combination of Henson’s ambition, Oz’s direction, and Froud’s designs creating something that doesn’t really have a peer. For many years my real hope was that the film remained a standalone work of art, untouched by sequels or reboots. Yet surprisingly, when Netflix released lavish prequel series "Age of Resistance" in 2019, it wasn't blasphemy. It combined modern puppetry with digital effects to  deepen the lore, introduce new Gelfling clans, and give the Skeksis even more grotesque detail. I loved it just as much.

• The Young Ones - The anarchic show about four university students which launched the careers of Rik Mayall, Adrian Edmonson, Nigel Planer and (to a lesser extent) Christopher Ryan. After "Not The Nine O'Clock News" had finished earlier in the year, this became my favourite comedy programme and it's where I first came to adore the genius of the late Mayall (although I had seen him the year before as Kevin Turvey on "A Kick Up The Eighties". It was full of cartoon violence, surreal non sequiturs, offensive talking puppets, subliminal flash frames and didn't so much break the fourth wall as smash through it with a sledgehammer (or probably Vyvyan's head). Plus a live band performance in the middle of each episode. For teenagers growing up in the 80s, this was *our* show. The critics hated it, the grown up's didn't understand it, but we could quote whole reams of dialogue. It changed the face of television comedy forever.

• Yazoo - Upstairs at Erics - The first album by synth-pop duo Alison Moyet and Vince Clarke. They were the first band I really followed - and I remember having a disagreement with my year-older cousin because he dissed them in favour of the supposedly cooler "The Jam". The combination of Clarke's synth driven melodies and Moyet's soulful voice, along with the experimental nature of some tracks was a revelation to me and the LP was never off my turntable after I saw them perform "Don't Go" on "Top of the Pops". Years later an acquaintance with his own band revealed that they had auditioned Moyet for the position as lead singer, but had turned her down for not being good enough! 

• Warrior - I only came across this most important of British comic publications by chance while browsing the shelves of a newsagent. The first issue cover with the maniacal, cleaver wielding cyborg Axel Pressbutton proclaimed "He's back!", even though I had never heard of him - and by this point I thought I was pretty knowledgeable about UK comics (but not music magazines clearly). Nowadays of course Pressbutton is more of a footnote, because the anthology is famous for launching the twin Alan Moore juggernauts of "Marvelman (Miracleman)" and "V For Vendetta". My brother and I used to fight over who got to read the issues first and I met editor Dez Skinn several times either at comic marts or by visiting him at the "Quality Comics" shop in South London. As well as the Moore strips with incredibly art from Garry Leach, Alan Davis and David Lloyd, I also enjoyed the medieval demon slaying of "Father Shandor" , although that might have been due to the voluptuous females drawn by John Bolton. I never did quite understand "The Spiral Path" though...

• The Belgariad by David Eddings - A five volume fantasy series that takes many of the standard tropes of fantasy and deals with them in new and interesting ways. Prophecy and destiny are active forces, magic follows strict rules and the pantheon of local gods are real, taking direct action on the world. Eddings was adept at writing interesting and lovable characters and in the enigmatic Belgarath and his daughter Polgara he created two of fantasy's most memorable sorcerers. Yes it's a quest story and, yes by today's standards the plot might seem predictable (it's being marketed more for young adults now I think) but you want to spend time with these people - it's not just the destination but also the journey that counts. Sequel series "The Malloreon" expands on the world and follows many of the same story beats, but that's directly acknowledged in the plot as the hand of prophecy forcing things along. Two other single novels complete the 12 book saga by telling background and historical details from alternative viewpoints. Good fun and a great start for someone into the fantasy genre.

• Eagle comic - I knew the title. I knew that the famous 50-60s version had featured the legendary adventures of the original "Dan Dare" (plus I'd loved his adventures in 2000 AD). but the revival was something different. Dare was there in the centre colour spread (well his great-great grandson) but surrounding him were photo strips across a wide range of genres. Robot action in "Manixx". Police adventures with "Sgt. Streetwise". Cowboy scrapes with "Saddle Tramp". Most popular of all though was "Doomlord" - the tale of an alien race judging humanity and sending an envoy to destroy us all. Despite only having a rubber mask and a few meagre special effects, John Wagner and Alan Grant managed to tell an exciting and scary adventure and kept introducing new fresh elements. I really liked the new Eagle but to be honest I still preferred the hand dawn comic strips such as "The Tower King" and "House of Daemon" (especially as both featured the stunning art of Jose Ortiz) and eventually the comic switched all the stories back to artwork. It never supplanted 2000 AD in my affections and I stopped buying it somewhere around issue 150 in mid -1985, but those early issues contain a lot of wonderful stuff.

ZX Spectrum - Without any doubt, one of the most important home computers in the history of gaming. The sheer innovation, enjoyment and legacy of  Clive Sinclair's little 48K home computer cannot be underestimated. Suffice it to say that for a period of time the humble "Speccy" became the dominant thing in my life (and those of my friends). I spent hundreds of hours typing in code, visiting computer fairs, reading magazine reviews, buying peripherals and playing a vast number of the thousands of games available. It was incredible what could be accomplished with a mere 48K of memory. You only have to mention "Jet Set Willy", "Daley Thompson's Decathlon" or "Knightlore"  and I go misty eyed with nostalgia. Forget Microsoft, Sony or Apple - the ZX Spectrum made home consoles and video games what they are today. I still have the same machine stored away (although it's not been turned on in years). There will further mentions of the rubber-keyed wonder in later posts - relating to a specific innovative game...

We're All Stories In The End 17 - Conundrum

I love it when we get a good mash-up...

Conundrum by Steve Lyons

Seventh Doctor Adventures number: 22

Originally published: January 1994

Companions: Ace & Benny

"Doctor, we're talking about an old man who used to dress up in a skintight white jump suit and fly around New York catching super-villains. Don't you think there's something just a bit unusual about that?"

A killer is stalking the streets of the village of Arandale. The victims are found one each day, drained of blood. And if that seems strange, it's nothing compared to the town's inhabitants.

The Seventh Doctor, Ace and Bernice think they're investigating a murder mystery. But it's all much more bizarre than that. And much more dangerous.

Someone has interfered with the Doctor's past again, and he's landed in a place he knows he once destroyed. This time there can be no escape.                                    

I'm going to keep this short, and state this from the off - I *loved* this book.

I mean sure, I figured out that this was a return trip to the Land of Fiction pretty early on. But the execution of that idea, and the fun that Lyons has along the way is what makes it such a joy to read.

And because it's the Land of Fiction he can get away with pretty much anything.

It's not tied to one genre. We get Enid Blyton parody, world-weary former superheroes, Chandler-esque detectives, satanic rituals, serial killers and witchcraft - and it all works together brilliantly. And the presence of the "Writer" as the narrator means the book is self-aware - it knows all the typical Who clichés of cliff-hangers at the end of chapters, miraculous escapes from certain death and continuity errors - and revels in them. 

But what's also key to the success of the novel is that the silliness is balanced with real moments of character development and sadness - even though you know that pretty much every supporting character isn't real. Yes I know strictly speaking, none of it is real, but you get my point.

Benny and Ace actually get stuff to do and their conversations both together and apart give real insight into their feelings. Ace admitting her anger at the Doctor's manipulations  - and how she wants to beat him at his own game - was an important moment, even more so because she shared it with her travelling companion first. And Benny's care for Norman Power really shines through, right up to his terrible, tragic end.

If I'm honest, It's the best I have seen them both written for quite a while.

If I have any criticisms, its that the story strand with the "Adventure Kids" didn’t seem to have much point, beyond a perfectly good homage. Although I did like the continual problems with Carson the dog and his ultimate fate - it made me think of the infamous "Five Go Mad In Dorset" by the Comic Strip, which is never a bad thing.

But that's a minor quibble amongst so much stuff to like - 

• The TARDIS becoming a gingerbread cottage.
• The life-sized game of Mousetrap.
• The Doctor's conversation with the Master of the Land via a Scrabble board.
• Explaining the power of "Meanwhile…."
• The brilliant line - "This time I want the real McCoy".
• John and Gillian, the Doctor's "real" "Grandchildren" from TV Comic
• Mentions of the Kleptons and the Trods, also from the comic strips.

I'm guessing that the author might also be a DC comics fan with characters named Corrigan and Shade. But the *really* deep cut comes with an appearance from the mechanical Dredlox - who appeared once in an early 80s issue of  - of all things - "Power Man and Iron Fist". 

I imagine Lyons had a *lot* of fun writing this,

I rattled through the book very quickly, which is always a good sign. I wouldn't want every Who novel to be this madcap, but it's refreshing to have it every now and again.

It'll be a good long while before we get to another Steve Lyons book - "Head Games" I think ?

If it's as good as this one, then it's really something to look forward to.

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 15 - 1981

A complete series of SF novels is the focus this time - ones which captivated me as a young teenager and deserves to be up there with the best of the genre...

1981:

The trivia:

• In 1809, in the middle of the Napoleonic Wars, the local council of Huéscar in Grenada, Spain  decided to declare war on Denmark. And then… everyone forgot about it. Completely. For 172 years, Huéscar was technically at war with Denmark, though nobody in either country seemed to notice. No soldiers were mobilised, no shots were fired, no casualties recorded. Life in Huéscar carried on as normal, while Denmark remained blissfully unaware that a town in southern Spain had them on its enemies list. It wasn’t until 1981 that someone stumbled across the paperwork in the town archives and realised. By then, of course, the whole thing was ridiculous. So the mayor of Huéscar invited the Danish ambassador to a formal ceremony, and the two sides signed a peace treaty. After nearly two centuries of “conflict,” the war ended with handshakes and a round of drinks.

• Roger Fischer, a professor of law at Harvard suggested a unique idea to deter the use of nuclear weapons - put the codes in a capsule and implant it next to the heart of a willing volunteer, who would always carry a large knife. In order to use the codes, the President would have to kill the individual with his own hands -  confronting the reality of taking a single life before ordering the deaths of millions. Fischer reasoned that it was a way of forcing empathy into a system designed to be cold and mechanical. Needless to say the Pentagon didn't go for it, citing that it would "distort the President's judgement"...

• The late 1970s and early ’80s were a golden age for niche record labels, and none were more mischievous than Stiff Records in the UK. Known for their cheeky marketing and punk‑era irreverence, they specialised in turning music into satire. One of their most notorious releases was an LP called "The Wit and Wisdom of Ronald Reagan". The joke? Both sides of the record were completely silent. Buyers got a glossy LP sleeve, a disc with grooves, and absolutely no audio. And yet, the gag landed so well that the record sold more than 30,000 copies. 

The memory:

The Saga of the Exiles by Julian May

After a brief dalliance with a couple of SF stories in the early 1950s, Julian May became  a prolific non-fiction writer, penning thousands of science encyclopaedia entries and over 250 books for children. So effectively she was a brand new author when I came across "The Many-Coloured Land" - the first in the "Saga of the Exiles" - in my local bookshop. The unusual cover and the premise of a group of time travellers going back to ancient Earth only to find that it was already occupied by aliens intrigued me enough to buy the book. What I never expected was that the story would be much more complicated, thoughtful and wide ranging - would expand to cover a further four volumes beyond the original quartet - and would become one of my favourite SF series of all time.

So here's the plot. By the late 21st  / early 22nd century, three hugely important things have happened to the human race and society on the planet:

• Time travel has been discovered. However the time gate only works in one French location and back to one time -  six million years to the Pliocene era. It's also just one way - any attempt to travel back to the "present" ages the traveller (or any organic object) instantly to death.

• Various individuals have emerged  as "metapsychics" - possessed of mental powers strong enough to manipulate energy or objects, coerce others to do their bidding, communicate telepathically and heal mental illnesses. 

• After being under surveillance for centuries, Earth has had an "Intervention" which introduced it to the wider galactic community and a number of equally psychic exotic alien races, which are together striving for mental "unity". A faction of humans opposed to this idea - and with a view to making humans supreme -  fermented a "Metapsychic Rebellion". It waas a conflict which resulted in a horrendous loss of life across the galaxy, but was narrowly defeated.

Despite the advances of humanity and the expansion into the galaxy, there are still those who want to escape the modern world. A steady number of misfits and outcasts use the time gateway to try to start over in the simplistic world of the Pliocene. All technology that will not decompose after a hundred years is banned from being carried back and all females are sterilised to prevent the contamination of the past.

The saga begins as a fresh group of "exiles" prepare to travel through the gate to a new life. However the Pliocene world that awaits them is not the pastoral utopia they expected. Instead it is already inhabited by two evolutionary branches of a metapsychic alien race - the beautiful, tall Tanu and the short, ugly Firvulag - who are engaged in a centuries old war. Having fled their own galaxy, they were marooned on Earth when their living spaceship crash landed. The Tanu have enslaved most of the previous human settlers through the use of various metal torcs around their necks and use them as workers, battle troops and breeding stock (female sterilisation has been reversed) - and to assist in their constant battles with the Firvulag, which culminate each year in the "Grand Combat". The torcs also enhance any latent metapsychic powers of the wearer.

What follows is an epic science fiction, meets fantasy, meets super-powers series where the exiled humans begin to vastly influence and change the dynamic of the aliens endless conflict. Via the power of the Golden Torc, various individuals find themselves in possession of enormous mental abilities. Some like trickster Aiken Drum want to take over, while others like the unstable Felice are driven mad and seek to destroy the society the Tanu have built over the centuries since their arrival.

In the third book ("The Non Born King"), May introduces the survivors of the Metapsychic Rebellion who fled into the Pliocene, and the efforts of their leader and the Galactic Milieu's strongest mind, Marc Remillard, to escape his prehistoric prison. Marc's family don't necessarily see eye-to-eye with him on all his plans and this conflict adds another layer into an already large cast of characters.

The clash between the various factions of "exiles" mounts to a crescendo in the final volume when allies, friends and families turn against each other and the fate of both the ancient and futuristic worlds hang in the balance. I'm incredibly reluctant to reveal too much detail about the plot as experiencing it fresh for the first time is really the best way. Suffice it to say that there are plenty of twists and turns before all the players reach their final destinations. May also offers tantalising glimpses of background characters and past (or is that future) events, fleshing out the societies and races involved.

Like some modern celebrated authors (George R.R. Martin coms to mind), May is hugely adept at mixing multiple points of view, political infighting, human relationships, huge battle scenes, intricate plotting and life changing events. Although much of the world building has its roots in Celtic mythology and religious symbolism, it never feels anything less than fresh and exciting and there is a real cross-genre feel, which meant the storyline appealed to all of my interests.  I remember impatiently waiting for each book to come out, and along with "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant", this was a series which I read and re-read in my teenage years, each time getting something new out of it. Part of me thinks that it would make a great multi-season TV series, but then again, perhaps it's best that these characters live vividly in my imagination instead of watered down on the screen.

After the end of book four ("The Adversary"), May released "A Pliocene Companion" - a reference guide to the world she created, along with maps, author interviews and discussions on the sources that provided inspiration. It's certainly not essential to read it to enjoy the books, but it does offer some interesting background details for real fans.

She than followed up her epic with a further four book story that, although more pure SF in flavour, is both prequel *and* sequel to the original saga. The massive single volume "Intervention" details the history of the Remillard family and the events that lead up to the Great Intervention where the alien races inhabiting the galaxy reveal themselves to the population of Earth. The subsequent "Galactic Milieu" trilogy - "Jack the Bodiless", "Diamond Mask" and "Magnificat"" moves forward forty years and tells the story of the Metapsychic Rebellion. It fills in much of the backstory only hinted at in the original quartet, reveals many secrets, and in the end loops everything back very neatly to the events of the Pliocene Exile (just look at the mirror image in that final cover).

I really would consider Julian May to be one of the great science fiction or fantasy authors and as a complete eight book sequence (or ten books if you count the "Companion" and split "Intervention" in two as some versions have) it's an incredible inventive and enjoyable piece of work that must have taken meticulous planning across more than a decade of writing. It's amazing how things referenced in the last novel tie back to those in the first and vice versa.

Sadly May seems to have been largely forgotten about in the modern era, but she is well overdue discovery by a new generation of readers. Although it's been quite a while since I last re-read it - and I wonder if my much older self would get quite the same thrill now as I did back then - the "Saga of the Exiles"  still remains one of those series which expanded my horizons on what could be accomplished in a genre novel.

Honourable mentions:

• The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy - When people talk about "Hitchhiker’s", they could mean the novels, the LPs, the stage show, or even the video game. For me though, it was the BBC television series that really lodged itself in my memory. I’d already devoured the original radio episodes when Radio 4 re‑broadcast all twelve in one go, but seeing Douglas Adams’ universe brought to life on screen was something else entirely. Yes, Zaphod’s second head looked clunky, and Marvin the Paranoid Android’s costume now feels like a relic of early ’80s design. But those quirks aside, the production nailed the casting and atmosphere. Simon Jones as Arthur Dent was pitch‑perfect, embodying the baffled everyman caught in cosmic absurdity. David Dixon’s Ford Prefect had just the right mix of charm and alien detachment, and Mark Wing‑Davey’s Zaphod carried the swagger even if the prosthetics didn’t. What truly captured me, though, was "The Book". The hand‑drawn animations, paired with Peter Jones’ wonderfully dry narration, were exactly how I’d imagined the Guide itself. They gave the series its unique texture - witty, informative, and slightly surreal. No amount of 21st‑century CGI can match the charm of those sequences, which felt like a perfect extension of Adams’ humour. 

• Shock Treatment - "Rocky Horror" casts a long shadow, which is probably why its semi‑sequel is so often overlooked. It never quite caught the same cult lightning in a bottle, but for me it’s just as much fun - and in some ways even sharper. Where "Rocky" was a gleeful send‑up of B‑movies and sexual liberation, "Shock Treatment" turns its satirical eye on television culture, consumerism, and the creeping influence of media on everyday life. The songs are a big part of why I love it. “Bitchin’ in the Kitchen” is a masterclass in wordplay, rattling off domestic frustrations with tongue‑twisting glee, while “Little Black Dress” bursts with sheer exuberance. They’re tracks that demand you sing along, and I often do. Richard O’Brien’s knack for mixing camp, satire, and genuine musical hooks is on full display here. The film’s reception was mixed, and it never achieved the midnight‑movie status of its predecessor, but that doesn’t mean it should be dismissed. I was lucky enough to see the first-ever stage production during it's limited run in London in 2015, and I wrote more about the film and that show here. Sneak preview: it was *really* good.

                             

• An American Werewolf in London - One of the first horror films I can remember renting on VHS from our local video shop. It wasn’t the snarling werewolf transformations or the gruesome killings that unsettled me though. What really creeped me out was David’s dead friend Jack, who kept reappearing in ever more decomposed states. Each visit was darker, funnier, and more grotesque, and it lodged in my memory far more than the monster itself. John Landis’s film is often remembered for its ground-breaking transformation effects, but for me it’s that mix of horror and black comedy that makes it endure. The way Jack keeps turning up, cracking jokes while his flesh rots away, is the perfect example of the film’s tone: unsettling and absurd at the same time. And then there’s the cameo that always makes me smile - the much-missed Rik Mayall, tucked away in the Slaughtered Lamb pub. It’s a blink‑and‑you’ll‑miss‑it appearance, another big reason why this film gets on the list *.

• The Antipope - The first novel by humourist and "father of far-fetched fiction" Robert Rankin. it also launched the increasingly mis-numbered "Brentford Trilogy" - a sprawling, eccentric series starring anti-heroes Jim Pooley and John O'Mally, here drinking and womanising their way through a surreal adventure against Pope Alexander VI, last of the Borgia's, and his attempt to take over the world (or Brentford at least). I was lent the book by a friend originally and although I found it interesting enough, it wasn't until the early 90s when Rankin's career really took off that I truly appreciated what a gloriously book it is. Much like early Terry Pratchett, the seeds of the great writer to come are all present here:  the absurd premises, the sly humour, the sense of community. The running jokes, old traditions and charters and art of "talking the toot" are still to come, but the foundations were already there.. There really is no one like Rankin out there and it's a damn shame his output has decreased in recent years.

• Ka-Zar The Savage - Another of my early Marvel comics titles and one of the first to go down the "direct market" route of distribution in speciality comics shops. This Tarzan analogue, with his trusty pet Zabu the sabre-toothed tiger and girlfriend Shanna the She-Devil, was a completely unknown character to me until the new series was released -  but the combination of writing from Bruce Jones and fantastic art from Brent Anderson soon put it to the top of my reading list. The first dozen or so issues are the best, dealing with the discovery of the hidden land of Pangea, the descent into a version of Dante's Hell and the battle against the demon lord Belasco, whose presence adds a darker, more supernatural edge to the series.  I lapped it up, and to be honest, I don’t think the character has been handled as well since. Later iterations never quite captured the same mix of pulp energy and philosophical undertones. For me it remains a perfect example of how comics can take a character you barely know and turning them into a favourite through sheer storytelling.

* Rik Mayall has a slightly more substantial appearance in another film on this list. Can you guess which one ?

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 14 - 1980

We move into a new decade, I become a teenager, and an album featuring the *other* composer with the initials JW becomes my favourite of the year...

1980:

The trivia:

• The Rhinoceros Party were one of the most famous satirical political movements in Canadian history. It was founded in 1963 and became particularly well-known in the 1970s and 1980s for its absurd campaigns. They often ran candidates who promised to resign if elected. In the 1980 federal election, they received over 1% of the popular vote, despite promising to: repeal the laws of gravity, build taller schools to provide 'higher' education, count the 'Thousand Islands' to see if the Americans stole any, and tear down the Rocky Mountains so Albertans could see the Pacific sunset.

• Photographer Robert Landsburg spent many weeks photographing the Mount St. Helens volcano in the lead up to it's catastrophic eruption. When the mountain exploded on 18th May, it unleashed a massive ash blast moving at hundreds of miles per hour. Landsburg was only a few miles from the summit and realised that he would never escape the rapidly advancing cloud. Winding his camera film back into it's case to protect the images he had already taken, he placed it into his backpack and then lay on top of it in attempt to protect the contents from the intense heat. Seventeen days later his body was found buried in the volcanic ash. Remarkably the film was recovered and successfully developed, and the images provided valuable scientific insight into the eruption and its immediate effects.

• In 1980, IBM introduced the first ever hard drive with a capacity of 1 gigabyte. It weighed an astonishing 226 kilograms, was the size of a refrigerator and cost nearly £ 18,000 (around £80,000 when adjusted for todays inflation). It used a large cabinet and required special cooling and power systems. For comparison, a modern microSD card costing less than £50 can hold 1 terabyte (1,000 GB), weighs less than a gram and fits in your pocket.

The memory:

Sky 2

No, not the now-defunct television channel from the Murdoch media empire, but the second album from the quintessential classical / prog-rock "supergroup".

Sky were formed by the coming together of five musicians at the top of their game:

• John Williams - one of the most acclaimed classical guitarists in the world, probably most famous for "Cavatina" - the theme from the movie "The Deer Hunter".

• Herbie Flowers - former member of "T. Rex" and recognised by many as one of the best bass players in the world. He appeared on albums with Elton John, David Bowie, Cat Stevens and Paul McCartney, and also played the prominent bass line on Lou Reed's "Walk On The Wild Side". Plus he worked with Jeff Wayne on his musical version of "War Of The Worlds".

• Tristan Fry - a drummer and percussionist on (amongst many other things) the Beatles "A Day In The Life" and the timpanist for the "Academy of St Martins in the Fields" chamber orchestra. He also played at the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton.

• Kevin Peek - an Australian guitarist who for many years was part of Cliff Richard's regular backing band, alongside session work for Manfred Mann, Lulu, Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey He also played on many film soundtracks.

• Francis Monkman - founder member of pioneering psychedelic band "Curved Air". He was an accomplished harpsichord player and a fan of free-form musical composition techniques.

Williams, Fry and Flowers had been friends since the early 70s when they had performed together (along with others) on Williams' non-classical release "Changes". They stayed in touch over the years and when Francis Monkman joined them on the 1978 album "Travelling", they realised that they wanted to set up their own full-time cross-genre band, combining pop, classical and rock elements. Recruiting Kevin Peek (fresh from working with David Bowie), the quintet was complete, and Sky released their first self-titled album in 1979. It combined versions of well known classical pieces along with original compositions by Monkman and Flowers. With much critical acclaim, it quickly reached gold record status and sell out concerts at the Royal Albert Hall and the Dominion Theatre followed.

With their mix of genres, styles and instruments (they were the first to combine acoustic and electronic instruments in such a way), Sky appealed to a wide breadth of music fans. People who traditionally would not listen to classical music found themselves drawn in by the rock interpretations. Classical enthusiasts attracted by the Williams name enjoyed the more free-form original material. 

I was completely unaware of this success though. While I had a growing interest in pop music, I also really enjoyed instrumental albums. The disco-style versions of classic film and TV science fiction themes by Geoff Love were some of my favourites. Plus as I've already documented, Jeff Wayne's "War of the Worlds" was a passion, and hardly off my turntable since it's release. However, I had been too young for the peak years of the prog rock explosion  - and as for classical music? Well up til now, 99% of that left me cold, as it seemed to be the stuff for ancient granddads who liked listening to the eternally dull BBC Radio 3.

Then, on an episode of "Top of the Pops" in May 1980, I saw Sky perform the track that became their most well-known and successful single - "Toccata". This was an arrangement of Bach's famous "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor", but with the usual organ and orchestra replaced by synthesizers, frantic drums and electric guitars. Now this was classical music I could get into to! They also seemed to be having a lot of fun, perhaps hardly able to believe that they were on the BBC's flagship pop music show with a single that eventually reached number five in the charts. See for yourself:

Intrigued by the performance, I ambled along to my local record store in search of more music by the band, and there, still in the top 10 was their second album "Sky 2" - a double LP no less. Thankfully I had enough money saved up from doing odd jobs around the house that I could afford to buy it. I took it home eagerly, opened the gatefold sleeve and placed the first vinyl record on the turntable. And now my musical education really began...

The first record is made up of original Sky compositions - and some lengthy ones at that. Jeff Wayne aside (and that's a special case I think), I was more used to the more traditional three or four minute pop /  novelty songs of my early childhood. The jaunty "Dance of the Little Fairies" was fairly brief, but two tracks ("Hotta" and  the Arabic-influenced "Sahara") were around seven or eight minutes long. What's more, the fourth, "FIFO" - a four movement ode to computer programming no less - took up the entire B side, effectively one seventeen minute prog rock opus. That was my first real exposure to this kind of thing, and I immediately fell in love with it.

The second LP began with live novelty favourite "Tuba Smarties", showcasing Herbie Flowers and his brass instrument. I'm sure I recall seeing Herbie perform this on later occasions, dressed as a kind of gnome, his tuba bedecked in multi-coloured fairy lights. Following that were several fairly traditional versions of classical pieces from Praetorius, Rameau and Vivaldi, before Mr. Fry had his own turn with the percussion focused "Tristan's Magic Garden" ( I particularly like the use of the vibraphone) and John Williams worked his Spanish folk magic on "El Cielo". The final side saw Sky's own take on the Curved Air barnstormer "Vivaldi" before the wonderful twelve minute "Scipio", that allowed everyone to get in on the action. The closing track was of course "Toccata".

Okay, so maybe it's true that the music was not going to set the world alight or create a cultural revolution - and maybe it's true the five members (apart from Monkman with his long hair) looked like the kind of respectable people your grandma might approve of, but for some reason their music really spoke to me. Millions of others obviously agreed because "Sky 2" was immensely popular, topping the charts - and the band made regular appearances on television. I had friends at secondary school who were also into the band, and we regularly talked about our favourite tracks.

The other thing that made the album stand out was the fact that it had liner notes from all the members of the band (another first for me), talking about the pieces and the music they had written. These were written in a jokey style, gentle taking the mickey out of each other and it really felt like Sky were connecting with the audience. On weekends I read these brief notes while I played the two LP's over and over again at as loud a volume as my parents would allow.

Sky's popularity continued to grow and their 1981 tour culminated with the first ever rock concert performed at Westminster Abbey in celebration of the 20th anniversary of Amnesty International. It was recorded and shown later as a special programme on BBC1, and I remember watching the show, as it was the first time I had seen Sky live in proper concert mode, instead of on something like "The Val Doonican Show".

By this point Francis Monkman had left the band, after becoming unhappy with the direction the music was going in (and is on record as being particularly acerbic about my much-loved “Scipio” on “Sky 2”, refusing to ever play it live). He was replaced by Steve Gray, a very active and well-regarded session musician pianist and arranger. He would go on to play a big part in the band’s future endeavours. 

The Westminster Abbey concert was also the first time that many tracks from the new third album were played to the public - and Grays involvement moved them away from the more psychedelic sound of some of the music on the first two albums. A tour of the UK, Europe and Australia supported the release. I’m pretty sure I bought "Sky 3" as soon as it came out and there are some great compositions  - the barnstorming “Moonroof” and ”Westwind” are particular favourites. I did play it regularly, but for some reason it just didn't feel quite as important to me. It seemed that my brief passion for the band was beginning to fade. 

Amazingly Sky kept going until 1995 through various line-up changes, but they never repeated the kind of mainstream success of their early years, and I never bought any of the subsequent LPs. I think part of it might have been that my tastes were expanding and changing - and I had discovered the electronic musical genius of Jean-Michel Jarre when a friend lent me his copy of "Magnetic Fields".

But that's another story...

Honourable mentions:

• The Adventure Game - The immensely popular 'science fiction' game show where celebrities had to solve a series of puzzles to get back to Earth, and clearly the inspiration behind "The Crystal Maze". Most people now seem to remember it for the "Vortex" game at the end where contestants could be evaporated  - which actually didn't come in til series 2.  I personally liked the more cerebral tasks such as figuring out which of the "Drogna" shapes could be stood on based on a scientific mnemonic, the backwards talking Argonds ("Doogy Rev") or having to use a creaky BBC Micro to negotiate a pitch black maze. The "Den of Geek" website has a lovely look back at the series here. Wonderful stuff which finally got a DVD release in 2017.

• Flash Gordon - As much as I adore the black and white Buster Crabbe serials that were endlessly shown on early morning television during school holidays, the 1980 Dino De Laurentiis rightly sits there alongside them. Yes it's tongue in cheek, but pretty much everything is perfect - the casting, the visuals and not forgetting the Queen soundtrack. It's cheesiness it part of the charm. Brian Blessed has spent the rest of his career bellowing two words at the world with great relish and try and find a heterosexual teenage boy who didn't have indecent thoughts about Onella Muti as Princess Aurora...

• Cosmos - By rights this ground-breaking science series should have run away with my personal memory top spot for 1980. It's thirteen peerless episodes affected me in ways that have reverberated down the decades and I learnt so much from Carl Sagan that I wish I had had the chance to meet him and thank him for all that he did for me. When we talk about personal heroes, Carl Sagan's name is in the top three. The amazing journeys into outer space echoed the wonder I felt the first time I saw "Cosmic Zoom" - and that was without the electronic beauty of the music of Vangelis. I've bought the music soundtrack, the accompanying book, the original and "special edition" VHS videos, and the DVD's (twice). I never get tired of watching it and Sagan's opening narration is ingrained on my brain forever. So why isn't it up there instead of "Sky 2"? Well partly that's because, as I've stated before, I'm trying to pick things that are slightly different, and partly because "Cosmos" is *so* important both personally and culturally that it deserves much more space devoted to it. It'll probably have to wait til much, much later, but I want to look back at each episode separately and in detail. Something to look forward to then...

We're All Stories In The End 16 - Coldheart

Sometimes what you expect, is just what you need...

Coldheart by Trevor Baxendale

Eigth Doctor Adventures number: 33

Originally published: April 2000

Companions: Fitz & Compassion

The Doctor, Fitz and Compassion arrive on the planet Eskon — a strange world of ice and fire. Far beneath the planet's burning surface are vast lakes frozen solid by the glacial subterranean temperature.

But the civilised community that relies on the ice reservoirs for its survival has more to worry about than a shortage of water. The hideous slimers — degenerate mutations in the population — are growing more hostile by the moment, and their fanatical leader will stop at nothing to exact revenge against those in authority. But what connects the slimers to the unknown horror that lurks deep beneath the ice? And what is the terrible truth that the city leaders will do anything to conceal?

To unearth the ugliest secrets of Eskon, the TARDIS crew becomes involved in a desperate conflict. While Fitz is embroiled in the deadly plans of the slimers, the Doctor and Compassion must lead a danger-fraught subterranean expedition to prevent a disaster that could destroy the very essence of Eskon... its cold heart.                                         

I'll admit it - I don’t like slugs. Hideous slimy things that eat my plants and deserve a good salting. I stood on one once in bare feet. Makes me shudder just thinking about it. But they do make a fine Doctor Who monster, as Trevor Baxendale shows us his first Eighth Doctor novel.

And yes. It is *very* traditional.

A society with clear top / bottom problems and the smell of revolution in the air. A downtrodden underclass that are treated as freaks. A ruling triumvirate where one is an angry inflexible bigot with a longing for power and a hidden secret. A monster waiting in the darkness underground. And lets not forget the slime - lots and lots of slime. Hopefully 'gween'.

I should have been rolling my eyes at the sheer familiarity of it all. But instead... I found myself drawn in.

Baxendale created a convincing desert planet and a culture that, even though it's painted with a few broad strokes, left me wanting to know more. By contrast, the Eskoni city of Baktan was vividly realised. I could easily picture this vast location - and its somewhere that I would have been happy for the Doctor and his companions to have lingered.

The Doctor in this novel is brilliant - full of energy, caring, honest, determined to help, yet at times reckless and impulsive. Equally Fitz tries his best to be a good man. It's clear he idolises The Doctor. Is he in love with him ? That *would* be original.

I couldn’t really warm to Compassion though, and she's more of a mystery. Reading these novels out of order I've yet to see how she became a walking, talking TARDIS. Plus with her being invulnerable, there was never really any peril. Whatever the depth of the chasm, no matter the size of the underground Tsunami, she'd always survive. 

Still, reading about the three of them absorbing the sights and sounds and smells of Baktan - and it's injustices - before the main plot kicked in, was very enjoyable.

Speaking of which, that’s another area where things did not veer from the traditional track. It was obvious that Tor Grymna would have a Slimer child  - and that despite his hideous crimes  he would try to redeem himself in the end. That the gross Spulver Worm was the cause of the mutations. That the Doctor would find a way to save this society from the alien menace and from itself.

What I didn’t predict was that the Doctor's solution would be - basically -  "wash it down the plughole". Nor that in doing so, it would ultimately caused the destruction of Baktan, leaving thousands homeless!

I mean at the end of the novel, there's a lovely new lake of fresh uncontaminated water, but nowhere to shelter and a blazing hot sun is coming up in a few hours. The slave class still seem to be in servitude and the Slimers are either dead or still hated.

But, "time to go" says the Doctor and off he pops, leaving the Eskoni to a new dawn of what ? Sunburn ? Hunger ?

There was a short moment where it looked like Fitz might hang around longer to help rebuild. It would have been nicer if the Doctor had done the same.

I'm being picky. If you are going to go trad - stick with the tried and trusted ending of the Doctor walking off when it's too mundane for him. And, despite the familiarity - in the end it *was* a fun read - perhaps almost good enough to be the novelisation of an unseen TV story.

How they would have realised a bunch of camel people, a giant slug and a tidal wave back in the 1990s? Now that I would have liked to have seen!

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 13 - 1979

A book by possibly the worlds' most famous science fiction author gets the top spot - but mainly because of a very special place in the South Indian ocean...

1979:

The trivia:

• Elvita Adams, a 29-year-old woman from the Bronx, was facing severe personal hardship. She had recently lost her job and was surviving on welfare, her landlord was threatening eviction, and she was struggling to support her 10-year-old son. In a state of deep despair, she made her way to the Empire State Building and jumped from the 86th-floor observation deck. Miraculously, instead of falling to the street below, a freak gust of wind blew her sideways, causing her to land on a narrow ledge just one story down. She was rescued by security guards and taken to Bellevue Hospital, having suffered only a fractured pelvis.

• On 14th June 1979, Anna Williams, a 63-year-old widow, received a package in the mail containing some of her personal items which she thought had been taken in a break-in a few months earlier. Accompanying the valuables was a bizarre poem titled “Oh, Anna, Why Didn’t You Appear”. It was deeply unsettling - full of menace, and lamenting the fact that she had not been home on the night of 28th April. It turned out to be from the notorious "BTK" serial killer, Dennis Radar, who had broken into her home, disabled the phone lines, and waited in her bedroom wardrobe for hours - before abandoning his murder attempt. 

• NASA’s exploratory craft Voyager 1 reached Jupiter in March 1979, capturing nearly 19,000 images of the planet, its complex cloud systems, and its many moons. Among the most surprising discoveries was the detection of a faint ring system, a phenomenon previously thought to be exclusive to Saturn. In addition, when specialists noticed an unusual plume on Io, Jupiter’s largest innermost moon, it ultimately revealed the presence of hundreds of volcanoes.

The memory:

The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke

In the 22nd century, structural engineer Vannevar Morgan dreams of building the world's first "space elevator" - a giant tower rising from Earth and tethered via a 'hyperfilament' cable to a structure in geostationary orbit 22,000 miles above the surface. Vehicles will be able to "climb" the cable to take payloads to orbit without the need for expensive rockets - greatly speeding up the colonisation of space. The only problem is, the one suitable point for the base station of the elevator is at the top of Sri Kanda - a mountain on the equatorial island of Taprobane, which is home to an ancient order of Buddhist monks. They are one of the few holy orders left on the planet, after contact with an robotic alien probe known as "Starglider" several decades ago shook the foundations of all religious faith - and they do *not* want to move.

Morgan's struggles with the engineering, political and religious obstacles to his 'Orbital Tower' are contrasted with the story of Taprobane's ancient monarch, Kalidasa. Two thousand years ago the king built his immense palace on the nearby mountain of Yakkagala. Setting himself up as a god he adorned the peak with beautiful images and constructed a vast garden full of fountains - feats that were centuries ahead of their time. The monks of Sri Kanda were vehemently opposed to Kalidasa's works, seeing them as an affront to their philosophy - and they have the same strong outrage towards Morgan and his project. Both men were / are trying to "challenge the gods".

To demonstrate that his technology works, Morgan attempts to run a thin cable from orbit down to ground level on Taprobane , but the test is disrupted by one of the monks (the Venerable Parakarma) , who hijacks a weather-control satellite to create an artificial hurricane in the area. Unfortunately although the sabotage succeeds, it also has the side effect of sweeping huge numbers of butterflies to the top of the mountain - thus fulfilling an ancient Buddhist prophecy - and the monks have no choice but to abandon their monastery. 

The novel then subsequently deals with the construction of the base tower on Sri Panda and the initial trials of the space elevator, which proceed well until an accident strands a group several hundred miles up. Despite failing health, Morgan makes a one man trip up the cable to provide emergency supplies and oxygen until they can be rescued. On the way back down he has a vision of a series of interconnected orbital stations all serviced by elevators - with Earth as the hub of a gigantic "wheel" in space. But before he can return to Earth and tell others of his ideas and guarantee his place in the history of space engineering, Morgan suffers a heart attack and dies.

Far in the future, the builders of "Starglider" arrive at Earth and admire the construction of the artificial wheel surrounding the planet. Morgan's vision has come to pass - but in a twist of fate he is not the one immortalised, but his engineering antecedent - the marvel of the space elevator is known as "Kalidasa's Tower "...

That's the cover of my copy of the book up there  - a fabulously moody shot of the entrance to Kalidasa's palace by Chris Moore. From the first page I was fascinated by it's contents. Not only because of the all too real idea of the space elevator (as with much of Clarke's work, the science is often based on plausible and achievable concepts), but also because of the parallel tale of the ancient king of Taprobane.  The novel is part scientific journal, part adventure story and part historical fiction. However, the thing that really grabbed my attention was the author's note at the back.

You see, many of the places that Clarke describes in his book are real. Taprobane really exists - it's the historical name for his beloved Sri Lanka (albeit the island's position has been moved for story purposes). King Kalidasa? Well the name may be taken from a 5th Century Sanskrit writer, but the monarch himself ruled between 477 and 495 A.D. as Kashyapa I of Anuradhapura. His fabulous frescoed palace full of painted maidens on a mountain surrounded by gardens and fountains? Yes that's also a genuine locale - and halfway up he built a grand entrance in the shape of a lion - just like the one in the cover above. The mountain is not named "Yakkagala" though. In the island language of Sinhalese it’s called "Sigiriya" - literally "Lion Rock"...

As for the Buddhist temple on the mountain of "Sri Kanda" - you guessed it - Clarke also drew on what he knew about the holy sites of his adopted home. In central Sri Lanka lies "Sri Pada", the 'Butterfly Mountain' which has long been considered a very important religious region, mainly due to the monastery halfway up  - and most importantly the shrine near the summit which contains a large rock formation. This is held to be the footprint of Buddha (or the Hindu god Shiva or the Islamic / Christian "first man" Adam). It’s therefore also known as "Adam's Peak".

The existence of all these locations outside the fictional construct of the novel blew my mind. For several years afterwards I dreamt of travelling to Sri Lanka and climbing Adam's Peak to see the sunrise from the top and gaze upon the footprint. Of walking up the steps of Sigirya through the lion's mouth. Of stepping through history but at the same time imagining myself in the future...

But as with many dreams, it fell by the wayside as everyday life took hold. School work, exams, work, relationships, getting married, children, divorce - the time went by in a virtual blur and before I knew it twenty-odd years had passed - and dreams of visiting a teardrop-shaped island more than 5,000 miles away were a distant memory.

Then in the early years of the 21st Century, I found myself in a new relationship and engaged to be married for the second time. Talking to my bride-to be about our honeymoon plans, I asked her where on the globe she would like to go. "Well, there was always one place I wanted to visit, after reading about it in a book by Arthur C. Clarke..." she said. Fate really had dealt in my favour! Here was possibly one of the few other people in the world who shared that dream of going to Sri Lanka. It was meant to be ! 

So that's how in early September of 2004 we found ourselves flying across the oceans for eleven hours and then on a ten day tour around the most fascinating parts of the island in a minibus. There were two other couples and a single guy on his own with us, plus the tour guide Dharmin, the driver and a young man acting as general "Passepartout". 

Starting and ending in the capital Colombo (no sign of dear Arthur C. sadly), we travelled over 1,000 kilometres (620+ miles) through some of the most beautiful scenery known to man. Along the way we fed baby elephants at a special orphanage in Pinnawala, gazed in awe at 2,700 year old paintings in the Golden Temple caves of Dhambulla, experienced fire walking and the temple of the sacred tooth of Buddha in Kandy, drank tea in the mountainous plantations of Nuwara Eliya, and came face to face with a leopard in the Yala National park - I could write a whole series of posts about the tour and the numerous wonderful parts of a very special holiday.

But of course the highlight was a visit to Sigiriya - the "Lion Rock".

As you approach the site and walk through the endless series of lush gardens with their still working fountains, the rock starts to loom larger and larger. It looks impressive, but it's not until you get much closer that you realise the sheer size of this outcrop and the manpower that would have been needed to build the Sky Palace on the summit.

Approaching the foot of the mountain, we reached the Bolder Gardens, where the steps were relatively easy to climb. Vast shapes may look like they are falling together, but were used carefully to create spaces for contemplation.

Then things started to become more difficult. The stairs through the Terraced Gardens were wide, but as we began to climb the grand zig-zag up to the next level, the going became much steeper. Hugging the side of the cliff face, we reached the Mirror Wall. Once this had been painted a glowing white, so polished that you could see your reflection. Now it was a glorious orange, the surface pitted and marked with the graffiti of travellers from millennia ago.

From here we ascended a very narrow spiral staircase to a sheltered indentation in the rock. Here are the only surviving examples of the painted frescoes that once covered the face of Sigiriya. The graffiti on the Mirror Wall suggests that there may have been over five hundred at one point. Bare breasted with golden skin and elaborate headpieces, our guide told us that they may have been members of the harem of Kashyapa and were painted to show the opulence and grandeur of the home of the god-king.

Descending back down the spiral to the Mirror Wall we continued our trek. The marble stairs at this point were very steep and it took a good 20 minutes before we reached the first half-way plateau - and the part I had been looking forward to the most. This was the start of the Lion Staircase!

At one point there *was* a colossal gatehouse here in the form of a crouching lion, which you had to pass through to gain access to the private sanctum of the king. Unlike that memorable image on the front cover of "The Fountains of Paradise", the stairs did not go through the mouth of the beast, but via a hidden set of doors in the chest, which then went back and forth inside the head before emerging at the back.

The ravages of time have not been kind to the once magnificent beast however, and all that remain are the paws and the staircase. As you can see from the picture below (and yes, that is me standing at the foot of the steps), the giant feet give you an idea of the scale of what was once there. It must truly have been magnificent. At last, years after I had read about it, there I was walking in the footsteps of the real King Kashyapa - and the fictional  King Kalidasa  upon his mountain of Yakkagala. It was a spine-tingling moment

The final climb to the ruins of the Sky Palace was via a set of vertiginous narrow metal walkways that grip onto the side of the rock face. The original steps had long since vanished, but I could see the grooves carved into the rock surface where the builders had set the foundations. We had to wait for a few tense minutes before starting, because there was a large hornets next fixed to the wall and our guide had to determine if it was safe to creep past. This was definitely not an ascent to make if you were scared of heights!

At last we reached the top and the remains of the Sky Palace were all around us. It was thankfully quite cool after the hard climb and the view across the countryside and down to the Fountains of Paradise in the garden far below was spectacular. It was a journey which I will never forget.

But what about that other important location from Arthur C. Clarke' novel - the holy mountain of "Sri Pada" or "Adam's Peak"? Well sadly as wide ranging as our tour was, it didn't go close enough for us to visit the site, let alone make the pilgrimage to the top. In reality it is over 100 miles from Sigiriya, and the closest we got was a view from the distance while on the road to Ratnapura. Apparently you have to start at 2 am to get to the temple in time for the sunrise. It was a shame that we couldn't do it, but I fully intend to go back to Sri Lanka again, so one day...

It's incredible to think that a mere two hundred-odd page science fiction story led to me visiting one of the most amazing countries in the world. Who knows where the next book I read will take me?

Honourable mentions:

• Not The Nine O'Clock News - The first comedy show that I really got into, having missed the whole thing about "Monty Python". It felt like I’d discovered something grown-up - sharp, fast, and just the right side of outrageous. I loved the satirical solo pieces, the fake news reports, the anarchic sarcasm and of course the songs and sketches. Who can forget "Gerald the Gorilla", "Constable Savage", "The Ayatollah Song ", the "TV closedown" sketch, "Nice Video Shame About The Song", the drunk darts players, "I Like Trucking", etc, etc. etc. I had all the BBC LP compilations and listened to them so much I could recite the sketches verbatim. It wasn’t just funny. It was formative. It taught me that comedy could be smart and subversive - and in Pamela Stephenson, Mel Smith, Griff Rhys Jones and especially Rowan Atkinson, I found my first comedy heroes. 

• Tornado - Another short lived companion comic to 2000 AD, most memorable for artist Dave Gibbons posing as superhero editor "Big E". It was an eclectic mix of strips - from World War II escape thrillers to pulp detectives, from swaggering secret agents to Highland wild boys with a mysterious past. When it was cancelled after a mere 22 issues, only retooled Nubian slave turned alien gladiator "Blackhawk" and teenager with psi-powers "Wolfie Smith" made the transition to 2000 AD.  Okay so “Captain Klep” moved too, but that was a one page joke.  It’s a shame as I do have fond memories of Martian rebellion story "The Angry Planet" - with art from the always brilliant Massimo Bellardinelli.

• Sapphire And Steel -  The adventures of the inter-dimensional agents who battled strange occurrences throughout time (which itself was a malignant force) was one of the best SF / fantasy TV shows of the era. I avidly watched each week, even if I didn't always understand what was going on. What made "Sapphire and Steel" so compelling wasn’t just the eerie atmosphere - it was the sense that anything could happen, and often did, in ways that defied conventional storytelling. The show had a dreamlike quality, and the performances by Joanna Lumley and David McCallum were perfectly pitched - cool, enigmatic, and just a little unsettling. I remember being fascinated by these mysterious figures and their element friends. The stories lingered in the mind long after the credits rolled - especially "Assignment Two", set in an old railway station, which still gives me chills (although it didn't help that an industrial strike caused ITV to go off air for several weeks mid-way through). For some reason I missed the final story with the infamous cliffhanger on first transmission, and didn't get to see it until years later when I bought the box set on DVD. I was struck then by how well the whole show holds up as a genuinely bold and original piece of television. It’s a shame it ended so abruptly, but maybe that’s part of its longevity. Hopefully, Sapphire and Steel are still out there somewhere, suspended in time, waiting to come back...

• Micronauts - outside of 2000 AD, this is probably one of the most important and personal comics series I own. Sure I'd dabbled in the Marvel universe before, mainly through back issues of the UK black and white reprints found at jumble sales - and odd random US colour issues found in seaside newsagents (back when that was a real thing). But after stumbling across issue 4 while on holiday, I was immediately hooked. The "Micronauts" name was familiar to me from the toys that had started appearing a couple of years earlier, but here was a comic that took the basic ideas and characters and spun them into a whole incredible cosmic universe of their own. It helped that the stories were by industry legends Bill Mantlo and Michael Golden, two masters of their craft. I was so captivated that I spent the rest of the two-week trip scouring every corner shop, and dusty rack I could find, desperately searching for the earlier issues. My determination to collect the whole series also led me to dedicated comics shops - and a whole new world of titles opened up to me. Along with "Rom: Spaceknight" and "Shogun Warriors" (also based on toy lines), this was the title that made me a collector rather than just a reader. I still have every issue, and although thousands of other comics have come and gone over the intervening decades, I can't imagine I'll ever part with them.