I was going to continue my series of book posts with a review of the last book we read for bookgroup, but then I heard the news that Sir Terry Pratchett had died and decided that I’d write my own eulogy.
I first read Colour of Magic as a teenager who was into fantasy literature and Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a straightforward parody of various fantasy tropes, strung together with a wafer thin plot that exists solely to take the characters from one set piece to the next. The plot doesn’t matter – it’s funny, and like the best parodies it seems to come from a love of the thing its mocking. It was more than just a cheap joke at the expense of fantasy literature, as was being done in books like “Bored of the Rings”.
I read a few others at the time, and hadn’t read any more until they started coming up in the bookgroup while we were reading our way through the BBC Big Read top 100. I read them again with a more critical eye. Colour of Magic was still funny, but I could see the flaws. Then I read a couple of the City Watch books and was hooked again.
It became clear that Pratchett had developed as a writer. Plots were becoming more complex, characters more rounded and the jokes more subtle. Increasingly the humour came from sharp character studies and situations – although the puns were still ever present. I watched as Sam Vimes developed from a cut-out cliche of a drunken, cynical cop into a fully rounded and complex character. The targets of the writing became less about the foibles of fantasy literature as Discworld became a way for him to satirise the real world. He took on everything from racism and religious fundamentalism to the banking system and used Discworld to shine a light on the problems of our world.
Unusually for a fantasy setting, Discworld also developed. The early books maintain the medieval stasis of typical fantasy literature. When something comes along that threatens the status quo, like cinema in Moving Pictures, it is dealt with and the world returns to normal. In later books, developments such as the telegraph system and newspapers stick around and are incorporated into future plots. By the end, Discworld is undergoing an industrial revolution. It’s a remarkable achievement from such simple beginnings.
Diagnosed with a rare form of early onset Alzheimer’s in 2007, Pratchett continued to write and became a prominent campaigner for the right of terminally ill people to choose to end their lives on their own terms. It’s a right he never had to exercise in the end, but it’s worth watching his Dimblebly lecture on the subject.
There are still many Discworld books I have yet to read, and I can see myself eking them out knowing that there won’t be any more to come. So thank you, Sir Terry, for the reading pleasure past and future, and I hope that somewhere you’re lobbying a skeletal figure in a robe about the right of people to give their own hourglass a gentle nudge towards the end…
in Books
When I first read Terry Pratchett, it was because there was a colleague at work who enthused about the disc world stories and had finished all the published ones to date. I remember being a little sceptical about the premise and the brashness of the Josh Kirby cover art as I am not a great fan of heavy “knowing” parody and guessed it might be in that vein. In fact, even the earlier books which do feel more like a series of set pieces than a fully-fledged story, had enough in them to amuse and catch the imagination without being overly self-indulgent which is what I had feared. There’s plenty of parody, sure, but there’s a lightness of touch and at least a passing sympathy for character which I found engaging enough to persist with. I absolutely agree that as the series progressed there was an increasing sophistication in the writing and stronger themes, story arcs and characterisation. Of course every series also benefits from cumulative reader knowledge.
I haven’t read every one of his books, but I do have a good number of them and it’s interesting how universal the appeal seems to be (well almost universal!)
Opening a new one of his books has a familiar comfort factor common to all good comic novelists. Rather like P.G. Woodhouse, you know as a reader you are in good hands and you’ll be entertained with witty, intelligent and humane writing which, whilst it might not always stretch the boundaries of literature is always going to raise some smiles. I mean that as a high complement because there aren’t very many authors who can be relied on to be so consistent. Even if I haven’t kept up with the latest ones, it is a sad thought that there will be no more new disc world books. We’ve lost a much loved writer.