Paradox

 Photo copyright Lisa Hazlegreaves

As I’ve already mentioned in previous posts in our house there is one member who is not a Doctor Who fan or indeed a fan of anything remotely science fiction.  This would be Father.  One of the main things that makes Father screw up his face in distaste is the complexity of Time Travel, the way a Doctor Who story can make a massive U-turn because of some paradox or other.   The most frustrating thing for me about all of this is, it all just drops into place in my brain as I’m watching and in my head I do that ‘ahhhhh now I get it’  or ‘ahhhhh good plot line’ but, BUT if I then have to explain it to a confused Father who is laughing at the outrageous story that has got our favourite Doctor out of scrape it doesn’t matter how hard I try his brain just isn’t made that way.  I’m not sure if it’s because since being very small I have been a huge sci fi fan, I watched Doctor Who as a child along with Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, I’ve read hundreds of books, all the usual ones, Lord of the Rings, Shannara, Gormenghast, I loved Blakes 7, Star Trek and Babylon 5.  My head has been full of fantasy creatures and time travelling paradox’s since the word go.  Father has come to this unwillingly through the love of his children and finds himself sitting watching with us, confused and dazed. 

Now I know as yet time travel doesn’t exist but there have been some brilliant papers written about the subject and as any good geek is aware you can Google time travel or paradox and hundreds of pages will pop up trying to explain the theory.  I’ve done this, I am that geek that has Googled time paradox as an aid to trying to explain it to Father.  I remember using ‘The Bootstrap Paradox Theory’ to try and explain it to him, let me see if you my reader can get a handle on it. 

The Bootstrap Paradox Theory

This theory has been used countless times in Doctor Who, here goes...

On his 30th birthday, a man who wishes to build a time machine is visited by a future version of himself. This future self explains to him that he should not worry about designing the time machine, as he has done it in the future. The man receives the schematics from his future self and starts building the time machine. Time passes until he finally completes the time machine. He then uses it to travel back in time to his 30th birthday, where he gives the schematics to his past self, closing the loop. (borrowed this paragraph from Wikipedia)

Get it? 

An example of this from Doctor Who is in a Tennant episode called Blink featuring those wonderfully terrifying monsters The Weeping Angels.  In this story The Doctor records a message in 1969, that is one half of a conversation.  The other half of the conversation is completed by a character named Sally when she watches the video in 2007 and her friend transcribes the conversation.  The completed transcript of the full conversation is handed back to The Doctor in 2008 (this is before The Doctor has travelled back to 1969 in his timeline) therefore he can use this transcript to create his half of the conversation later....confused?  Sally was in the story and The Doctor explained it to her by explaining that most people think of time like a ‘swift progression of cause to effect’  when it is actually ‘a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff’

I think Tennant’s Doctor got it right, and I use this line repeatedly when I see Fathers face getting that derogatory look on it....’shhh I say its wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, that’s all you need to know’

Judged

 Photo copyright Lisa Hazlegreaves

If you have read any of my other posts you may have noticed that I’m quite a fan of Doctor Who and science fiction / fantasy in general.  I have been this way since my late teens, yes,  dear reader  for twenty five years I have been a sci-fi fan.  Now this is something I have always been proud of but it’s only recently I have been so  outspokenly proud about it.   I mean, I’ve had a reputation to keep.  I have a really good job, I’ve partied in Kurt Geiger shoes with DJ’s,  promoters and their bitches. I have not spent all my spare time alone amusing myself with Spok’s Biography and a scale model of The Millennium Falcon.  The attitude to science fiction is definitely softening, it is not thought of as such a weird thing to like now, especially for a female.  This has got a lot to do with Doctor Who, which has introduced science fiction to the masses at peak family viewing time on a Saturday.  I have lots of friends who watch Doctor Who with their kids but who have probably never heard of Terry Brooks let alone read any of his books and this is a good thing, it’s a great thing it is opening minds and getting a whole new generation of kids into science fiction.  Hopefully these kids will love Doctor Who so much they want to go on and read some classic fiction.  Less judging of the sci-fi geek.

 This in turn however has brought up a whole new set of rules to be judged on.  Within Whovianism (wondering if I just invented a new word?  A Whovian is a Doctor Who fan) there is a fraction who will publically sneer at fellow Whovians who know little, if nothing of Classic Who.  Classic Who? I hear you ask.  When Doctor Who returned to our screens in 2005 and became the mighty goliath that it is with its merchandising and experiences  and conventions, the BBC decided that there needed to be a distinction between the brand sparkly New Doctor Who and the Doctor Who that was on our screens when I was a lass. So they re-branded old Doctor Who re-releases on DVD as Classic Who.  Glad we got that cleared up.   There are Whovians like myself who are old enough to remember Classic Who and whose Doctor is not nine, ten or eleven but a number prior to that. But then there are also the next generation of fans like my kids whose Doctor’s are Tennant and Smith and you know what that’s absolutely fine.  They will never ever like Classic Who, its old fashioned to them, the sets wobble and there is no CGI but they shouldn’t be derided for this they should be cherished, brought into the fold of Sci-fi geekdom and nurtured.  They certainly shouldn’t be sneered at nor judged for not knowing the name of the actor who played Tom Baker's scarf or even who Tom Baker is, although my kids know this because he was MY Doctor and I have bored them stupid with tales of him. I’m happy to pass on my sci fi baton to my kids, I don’t care if they don’t know about Classic Who I simply care that in the future they read some great books by Neil Gaiman perhaps, because they heard of him from writing a script for New Who.  I won’t judge them for that.

Father

 Photo Copyright Lisa Hazlegreaves

In our house there are three massive Who fans, Daughter, Small Child and I.  Now I have been into Science Fiction in all its genres since my teens.  Sparked by an early love of Classic Who and discovering Terry Pratchett at the age of 15. (Totally different I’m aware but the fantasy element remains the same)  I have eagerly awaited every single Terry Pratchett release for nearly 30 years...30 years that’s incredible really, to be able to keep readers interested in a fantasy world for that long is an amazing feat.  It would appear that Science Fiction/Fantasy can run and run, look at Who.

I have known Father since I was 14, we both attended the same Drama group.  We were in regular contact through Drama until our late teens when we lost touch for many years.  When he came back into my life when we were both adults (I was going to say mature, but I fear we don’t fall into this category) we hit it off and so began our relationship.  That was 14 years ago.  Now Father and I have very differing tastes in most things but especially in this.  He used to poo-poo my science fiction/fantasy novels in favour of Captain Corelli's Mandolin.  In fact he bought me this book ten years ago and I still haven’t read it as a matter of principal.  I refuse to read it until he reads a book of my choice, a classic like Lord of The Rings or The Hobbit.  This is a stand off I feel will run forever, as Captain Corelli’s Mandolin sits on one of my many bookshelves the pages browning and gaining that wonderful smell that old books have, un-read, teasing me every time I pass.  Father laughs at The Matrix, one of my very favourite films, Father in fact can not tolerate any science fiction at all, he believes it foolish and comedic.

When Doctor Who returned to our screens in 2005 Father was still promoting and djing at a clubnight in town and was therefore never here on a Saturday evening when The Doctor was gracing our screens.  Daughter and I would regale him with anecdotes about the previous days episode over Sunday lunch, he would try to be gracious but eye rolling would commence and the corners of his mouth would turn up in that hint of a smile.  It wasn’t until he stopped working on a Saturday night that he began his Doctor Who journey half way through Tennant’s reign.  The first few episodes he watched found him chuntering under his breath at the ridiculousness of time travel, tutting and mumbling through pursed lips.  I felt I needed to have a strict word with him, I told him that he could watch with us but he couldn’t criticise.  During this conversation, Father said although the programme didn’t really cut it for him he found the whole experience of sitting together as a family a most wonderful thing and he would try really hard not to laugh.

Over the past few years Father has softened to Who, mainly I think because of our love of it.  He loves us and when you love someone you cannot help but be influenced by their excitement.  As I have mentioned on more than one occasion, I love nothing more than glancing at my children during an episode, watching their faces go through the same emotions as mine.  It’s charming in the extreme.  Now during these moments I will glance at Father and catch him looking at us and we have a shared glance, a look of love for our children. Father also plays the most important role, he is the protector of Small Child when it all gets a little too scary for him (small child not father) when my cardigan is not protection enough, and Father will take Small Child out of the room and distract him with cake and stories of Pirates.

If we go anywhere as a family and Doctor Who is brought up, I find people talking to Father, they automatically think that it is the male who is the massive Geek, Nerd, Whovian or whatever term you care to use.  When we attended the Doctor Who Convention in Cardiff I know that people were thinking...aww look at that poor woman being dragged round with her partner and kids.  However if they had paid close attention to our faces they would have seen that ridiculous smile of excitement on mine and a slight look of boredom on his and the secret would have been out.  It’s Mother who is the Whovian and Father who is simply there to carry the sandwiches.