Another Doctor Who adven­ture comes and goes, and I’m once again left won­der­ing how this got to print. Sting of the Zygons wasn’t a bad story by any means, but the new novels just aren’t doing it for me. With the orig­i­nal Doctor Who book series, the authors were writ­ing sto­ries that were so epic that they simply couldn’t be done on screen at the time. Sto­ries so fan­tas­tic that imag­i­na­tion is a require­ment in order to read them. This is a qual­ity that I find lack­ing within all of the new novels that I have read thus far, with excep­tions being made for The Last Dodo, Stone Rose, and The Clock­wise Man.

Where to begin with this one? I hon­estly don’t know and I’m at a bit of a loss. Maybe I’m just not used to read­ing this style of book. Maybe I just don’t get the point behind it. Maybe I over­looked some obvi­ous and keen insight that every­one else picked up on. No matter how you put it, I still don’t know what to make of this one.