Arthur C. Clarke 1917-2008

Anyone who grew up in the late 70s and early 80s will remember "Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World", a TV series in which Clarke fronted a series of articles investigating strange phenomena. It certainly made a deep impression on me; I was obsessed with Doctor Who (as were most small boys then) and all thing extraterrestrial, and the remarkable tales I saw presented were a huge meal for my ten-year-old imagination. I even got the big expensive tie-in book, and poured over its pages, filling my head with crystal skulls, mysterious explosions, ancient anomalous technology and alien visitors. It was also the first place I heard the name of Charles Fort, whose words currently head this blog, and whose wickedly playful philosophy has been a great influence on me.

Clarke's best known amongst the wider public, of course, for his novel and screenplay 2001: a space odyssey, and for predicting satellites with geostationary orbits, but he wrote a huge number of books, many of which I read avidly. His short stories always chimed with me most, filled with extraordinary imaginative speculation as to the future, which was nevertheless always perfectly grounded in contemporary science.

What I remember and treasure most from his stories, however, is its essential optimism. Clarke wasn't naive; he was certainly aware that human nature does not evolve as fast as our technological capability. But he always seemed to project the wonder of possibility, and the hope that for all our faults, in the end all things shall be well.

It doesn't strike me that he was the sort of person who'd want to be remembered in solemnity, and so here's something I also remember from TV relating to the great man in an entirely less serious way:

Who: It's back, then gone, then back again

The Beeb have announced that there will be a fifth season of the resurgent Doctor Who, but not until 2010, with 3 specials bridging the gap after season 4.

I'm not sure what to make of this. Is it a sign that David Tennant will stay for another series, and they're taking a break to accommodate his other commitments? Will Series 5 be an effective relaunch with Tennant and Rusty Davies replaced with new blood? Will they move the show to Autumn/Winter (which is where it ought to be, after all)? Who can say? Well, Who fans can, of course, and you can read some thoughts here. (And probably here, too, but possibly not such sane thoughts.)

I'm apprehensive at the prospect of an almost Who-less year. Still, there's always Torchwood to tide us over, isn't there?

Oh god...

Da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum....

Maybe it's a sign of stress or impending madness (it's been one of those weeks), maybe Rusty Davies has me in the grip of some kind of mind control voodoo, or maybe it's all true and the Master really is in the process of enslaving us all, but over the past week I've kept finding myself tapping out that rhythm. When I was a small lad, Doctor Who was my passion and obsession. It broke my heart to see its decline during the 80s, and I was overjoyed when it came back and made such a success of itself. It's not perfect (the Doctor needs to stop saying sorry and STOP SHOUTING, for a start), but it's still the best thing on telly by miles. Bar a mid-season wobble (that disappointing Dalek story) this has been the best series yet of the reconstituted Who, and I can only hope, as I wait to find out just how he'll get out of this one, and anticipate a return to the unwatchable any-of-big-brother's-x-factor-grease-idol-will-do type rubbish that will undoubtedly swamp the schedules from hereon, that all those rumours that the BBC might actually be stupid enough to cancel it when RTD & co move on (after series 4, allegedly) are the utter nonsense that they must surely be.

da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum...

A mild surprise

Torchwood wasn't shit last night. Is this because it was better or because my expectations have dropped that much further? This conundrum can be expressed by the equation a=e(r/e), where a represents appreciation, e represents expectation, and r represents reality. Thus, a high expectation combined with a disappointing reality will lead to a lower satisfaction than something you expect to be a steaming pile of dog shit, which turns out not to be as bad as you thought it'd be. This equation explains why it's possible to gain more enjoyment from an above-par episode of a crap sitcom than a quality period drama adaptation that's as good as, but no better, than you expected.

Unrelated: There's a post by Shane MacGowan on the Guardian blogs today noting the anniversary of the death of Kirsty MacColl. I was listening to some of her songs with Cheerful One on Saturday night. Life's full of little coincidences, not always happy.