First up is my friend Dan Budnick's wonderful new Doctor Who book, When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who. This two-volume set (volume one covers what we might call "classic" Who, while volume two picks up the show after the revival) covers the entire run of the show, up to and including the episodes that aired earlier this year, so when I say nothing is missing in them, I mean it.
When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who (Volumes 1 and 2)by Daniel R. BudnickThrockmorton Press2025
One of the many features of these books that makes them stand out from other "episode guides" is that Dan's analysis is not limited to a three-or-four paragraph description of the whole story; instead, he literally takes things episode by episode, and if you're at all familiar with the way classic Who was structured, you'll know that each story generally consisted of somewhere between four and six episodes (with some of them lasting even longer than that). This means that instead of, say, three-quarters of a page per story, you're getting a writeup that runs four pages or more, and includes not just a description of the episode, but also the original date of broadcast, writing credits, and the cliffhanger ending. He's going to tell you what the story is, not just what it's about, and an ideal way to read is after you've viewed the episode, rather than before. In other words, it augments your viewing pleasure.
As I mentioned, there's a temptation to refer to these kinds of books as "episode guides," but in this case, this would be a disservice. What Dan's really done here is to compose a mini-essay on each episode, containing his personal opinions, observations, and asides to the reader. You'll get factoids that you might not have been aware of; you'll also find yourself looking at some episodes in a different light.
Through it all, Dan's longtime love of the series emerges. He doesn't whitewash things; if something is worth picking on, he'll pick on it—but affectionately. Nowadays, it's become so fashionable for books about television shows to fall into one of two categories: either a fawning, sycophantic tomb that reads more like a press release than anything else; or else a cynical reiterpretation of a well-loved show that aims to upend everything anyone had ever thought of it, withe the ultimate message that you were a fool to ever enjoy this series in the first place. Thankfully, this book is neither: it's for fans, by a fan, who wants to share his enjoyment with everyone else. If some history books come across as lectures, this one is more like sitting around in the living room with a good friend and yakking about what you've just seen. Believe me, those are the best kinds of conversations to have, and When I Say Read, Read, is the best kind of book to give it to you.
Full disclosure: Dan and I share the same publisher, Throckmorton Press. I can assure you that I have, in no way, been compensated or influenced by that.
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Next up are a pair of reissues that showed up as a pleasant surprise in the mail from Cutting Edge, and each takes us behind the scenes to see how the television industry actually operates. I doubt that many people are naive enough to think that the business is all sweetness and light, but Daniel Paisner and Vance Muse bring home the drama behind the scenes, in stories that are, arguably, more entertaining than the programs themselves.
Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilotby Daniel Paisner (with an introduction by Phoef Sutton)Cutting Edge2023
We'll begin with Paisner's Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilot. The pilot in question was called Word of Mouth, and if it doesn't ring any bells, that's because it never even made it to air, let alone series status. That it didn't is a story of industry politics, commercial constraints, timing, and above all, luck.
Word of Mouth, which started out as E.O.B. (for "Executive Office Building," the building where the speechwriters are housed), then The War Room, before lighting on its final title, had a lot going for it. It was created by Bruce Paltrow, Tom Fontana, and John Tinker, who had just come off of the success that was St. Elsewhere. And, given that most workplace dramas center around office politics in the first place, what could be better than the ultimate political setting of speechwriters working for the president of the United States? It was a concept that promised, in one observer's words, "smart drama." Instead, it left those involved with it experiencing the same kind of "smarts" that one gets from, say, dropping a sledgehammer on a bare foot.
Providing us with his first-hand witness to the events is Paisner, a freelance writer who'd somehow convinced Paltrow, et. al to grant him "unprecedented access" to the process of making a television pilot. And Paltrow gives us the eyewitness view of the entire sordid affair: the painstaking process of script development, the myriad challenges posed in the production stage (just how far apart should those desks in the War Room be placed, anyway?), interference from network suits, and the harsh truth of how few pilots actually make it to the small screen, let alone series status. I often joke about those "failed pilot playhouse" anthologies that used to populate summertime television in the 1960s and 1970s, but in fact it says much for those projects that they even got to that point. Show gives us the whole, unvarnished truth, in glorious, painful, detail.
Perhaps nothing speaks to the deadly accuracy of Paisner's book more than the reaction of Bruce Paltrow after reading the finished manuscript. "What the hell were we thinking," Paltrow grumbled, "letting you in like this?" When Paisner asked him what he'd gotten wrong, Paltrow ruefully replied, "Nothing. Not a single thing. It's just, you've made us look like complete fucking idiots."
But that was not Paisner's intent, nor is that the impression the reader gets from Show. (Well, maybe just a little, but you know what I mean.) Remember that the greatest baseball hall of famers still failed seven out of every ten times they came to the plate, and the success ratio has to be at least that severe in the television business. For even the greatest television minds, failure is not only an option, it's a reality. Sometimes it's a line of dialogue, sometimes an episode, sometimes an entire concept. Had Paltrow, Fontana, and Tinker been lesser figures in the industry, they might not even have gotten this far. That they did is, ultimately, a success; after all, if you can't play the game, you'll never even get to bat.
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Vance Muse's Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Series, like Show, telegraphs its ending from its subtitle. It, too, seemed to be a good bet, created by Jay Tarsus, who'd already done The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd, Buffalo Bill, and The Bob Newhart Show/ Unlike Word of Mouth, Smoldering Lust—which wound up being called Black Tie Affair—actually made it to NBC's schedule, premiering on May 29, 1993, and starring Bradley Whitford and Kate Capshaw. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there: scheduled for thirteen episodes, only five were aired before the axe fell.
Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Seriesby Vance Muse (with an afterword by Ken Levine)Cutting Edge2024
The show's premise, for those of you who don't remember it (and, judging by its short run, that would be most of you) was a 1940s detective spoof set in San Francisco involving Whitford's character, Dave Brodsky, as a P.I. investigating a philandering tycoon. Now, how a viewer is supposed to glean that premise from the title Black Tie Affair may be one of the first indications that this show was in trouble, but it was far from the only one. Its initial test screening would have made a fine after-dinner show on the last night of the Titanic; the premiere episode was heavily delayed, and its abrupt death—make it compelling, if sometimes painful and occasionally hilarious, reading.
Muse's tone is engaging, clear, and witty. Readers get to meet all the different personalities involved in putting together a television series—what they do, how they interact, how important each of them is to the overall success of a series. And their job isn't an easy one, especially when the life of a series is very much up in the air. Does the writer stick it out with the show, committed to seeing it through to the end? Or, as his agent fervently hopes, does he put himself back out on the market, realizing that if he doesn't look after himself, nobody else will, either?
Once again, the overall impression is one of politics, network interference, enormous egos, and good intentions going awry. You're apt to wonder how anything ever makes it to television, which makes one admire the long-term hits even more, but we ought to save some applause for the ones that fall short as well, for it's a small miracle that they got even that far. Just because said series fails to become an established hit does not mean that these people aren't good at what they do, or that they haven't done it well in this case. Sometimes things just don't work out; what seemed like a good idea in concept may not have worked in delivery, or it may have been the right idea at the wrong time. What undoubtedly was the right idea at the right time, however, was that the stories behind these shows be preserved for the rest of us to read. Sometimes, in television as in real life, failure makes for the most interesting story of all.
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And now for something completely different. If you're like me (and, once again, I hasten to add that I hope you aren't, for your own good), you probably know Edward Everett Horton primarily as the droll narrator of the "Fractured Fairy Tales" that appeared as one of the features on the various Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. You might also remember him as Chief Roaring Chicken on F Troop. You might even have seen him, playing characters of similar temperament, in various musicals and other movies of the 1930s and 1940s, many of them bearing legendary titles such as Top Hat, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, and Arsenic and Old Lace. But when it comes down to brass tacks, how much do any of us know about the man? And how do we know whether or not his story will be interesting?
The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Hortonby Lon and Debra DavisBear Manor Media2025
I can't answer the first question, but as to the second, we have nothing to fear when we're in the hands of veteran authors Lon and Debra Davis, who, in The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Horton, bring their amazing knowledge of cinema to this biography. And, typical of the work they've done in the past, you're going to come away not only entertained, but educated, with a mini-history lesson on film that puts Horton's work in context, allowing us to appreciate what a truly talented actor he was.
Horton's career spanned not only movies, but the stage, radio, and ultimately television, and each step enabled him to be appreciated by a wider, more varied audience. He worked with some of the best, most talented, professionals in the business, actors who thrived under Horton's deft supporting touch. We hear from many of them, thanks to the Davises research, as well as from Horton himself, through various interviews and writings that give his story in his own voice. We also learn more about Horton the man, in personal details that are presented with deftness and subtlety, always enhancing, rather than distracting us, from the story.
As was the case with Mr. Budnick above, the Davises are personal friends, but I think I can say that this does not color my appraisal of their books. The fact is that, with so many books about media studies out there, it can be difficult to know where to begin. One way in which that is accomplished is to look back at the track record of those authors who've made the rounds before, who've earned their stripes, so to speak, by demonstrating their expertise in their subject matter. I don't know anyone who knows more about early cinematic history than Lon and Debra Davis, and I'm not sure how many historians there are out there who can share their knowledge in as engaging and informative way—not to mention charming—as they do.
It's unfortunate that it's taken me as long as it has to review these four books, because for those of you who look for reading recommendations, it may have delayed your enjoyment of them. You may not have known that you needed a book on Edward Everett Horton, that you needed to read stories of failed television ventures, that you needed such a detailed review of Doctor Who. You may not have realized that you not only needed them, you'll come away from having read them wondering how you were able to go for so long without knowing about them. But trust me, it's true in every case. TV
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Thanks for writing! Drive safely!