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A review by lizbarr
JN-T: The Life and Scandalous Times of John Nathan-Turner by Richard Marson
1.0
Richard Marson’s biography of Doctor Who producer Jon Nathan-Turner was compelling yet awful, like a nerdy version of Heat! magazine. Turner was a complex person, in a committed relationship for most of his adult life, yet he and his partner were quite open about sexually exploiting fans. (In the case of the partner, this included attempts at outright sexual assault, including one on the author.)
Turner’s tenure was the most turbulent time in Doctor Who‘s history, some of which was caused by circumstances beyond his control. Other parts … you know, there’s a reason why Russell T Davies never engaged with fandom, and why Steven Moffat should never have tried Twitter. Doctor Who fandom can be toxic, and if you have the ego it takes to survive in the entertainment industry, you’re going to wind up being equally toxic back. And not just to the fans: there’s a really ugly account of JN-T spitting in actress Nicola Bryant’s face after she joked about sleeping with a gay man he fancied.
The information in this biography would make fascinating entries in, say, a history of the culture of the BBC (which I would totally read), but as an account of an individual’s life, much of it felt prurient. But then, one suspects JN-T would have appreciated that.
Turner’s tenure was the most turbulent time in Doctor Who‘s history, some of which was caused by circumstances beyond his control. Other parts … you know, there’s a reason why Russell T Davies never engaged with fandom, and why Steven Moffat should never have tried Twitter. Doctor Who fandom can be toxic, and if you have the ego it takes to survive in the entertainment industry, you’re going to wind up being equally toxic back. And not just to the fans: there’s a really ugly account of JN-T spitting in actress Nicola Bryant’s face after she joked about sleeping with a gay man he fancied.
The information in this biography would make fascinating entries in, say, a history of the culture of the BBC (which I would totally read), but as an account of an individual’s life, much of it felt prurient. But then, one suspects JN-T would have appreciated that.