Musings on reading Terry Pratchett's Wintersmith

 

Title: Wintersmith
Author: Terry Pratchett
Publisher: HarperTempest, 2006. 323 pages.
Source: Library

I don't have the gall to review Terry Pratchett. But I'm happy to share the musings I've had while reading Wintersmith, the 3rd of the Tiffany Aching books. I'm happy to find there is one more. I shall savor the pleasure.

I am a huge fan of Pratchett and his Discworld, and like to think about how he does it, whatever "it" may be. Here, in no particular order, are some thoughts engendered by Wintersmith.

1. Third Thoughts. Pratchett proved his genius when he came up with this one. We all know what Second Thoughts are. I'm going to eat a quart of ice cream. No, on second thoughts, that might not be a good idea. Third Thoughts stand outside the head and study it all, and probably argue with the first and second thoughts. Not everyone gets to have them, but I'm thinking that for a writer, Third Thoughts are the editor that can actually decide that the lovely passage I just wrote has got to go. Third Thoughts will tell me so, probably profanely.

2. Pratchett doesn't write kids books for kids. Some claim Tiffany Aching is for kids. After all, the protagonist is 9 in Wee Free Men, 11 in A Hat Full of Sky, and turned 13 halfway through Wintersmith. And she's even having some teenaged problems. Boy trouble. But no, this book isn't aimed at children, though teens could learn a lot from it. I can relate to this, too. The Ninja Librarian is about 1/2 a kids book, and I'm not kidding when I say it's for "10-year-olds of all ages."

3. Okay, I didn't see that ending coming. I should have, but I didn't. Is that me being dense, or is that the perfection of a great ending, that once you've read it, it seems inevitable, even though you couldn't have thought it up yourself in a month of Sundays?

4. I've looked and thought a lot lately about writing dialects and accents. Pratchett seems to pull it off marvelously, and he does it with vocabulary (though the Mac Nac Feegle need a little glossary for some of their vocabulary), not spelling. I will take lessons.

5. I want to grow up to be one of the Discworld witches. Somewhere between Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg. Which leads me to....

6. I never knew anyone (well, maybe I do) who can jam as many improper ideas and implications into language that will pass any censor. You don't have to write a single 4-letter word to get the ideas across.

That's enough rambling for now. If you've never read any of Terry Pratchett's books, run right out and start. I'm not sure where you should start; most people agree that the first book (The Color of Magic) isn't his best, though it was good enough to capture me. My favorites might be the ones about the witches, like Equal Rites, but I'm awfully fond of the Watch, too. And the sorcerers are good for a laugh...

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Book Review: Carpe Jugulum

Yes, we're back on the Discworld!  I know I swore off of reviewing Terry Pratchett, because I just kept saying I loved his books, but this one seems to cry out for commentary.  First, the business:

Title:  Carpe Jugulum
Author:  Terry Pratchett
Publisher: Harper Voyager, 1999. I used the HarperCollins ebook edition, 339 pages.
Source: Library (digital version).

Summary:
It seems both futile and arrogant to attempt to summarize one of Pratchett's Discworld novels.  The best I can offer is to say that we are back in Lancre, the land of the witches, and King Verence and Queen Magrat are celebrating the birth of their daughter.  They've invited all the neighbors to the naming ceremony, and that includes the Magpyrs of Uberwald, your friendly neighborhood vampires--or vampyres, as they prefer to spell it (Carpe Jugulum, of course, means "seize the jugular" which is a pretty good predictor for vampires).  Count Magpyr is so totally up-to-date, making sure he and his people can tolerate daylight, garlic, even holy water.  He and his family are also very good at many vampiric skills, including clouding people's minds, and sucking their blood.  They plan to move in and take over, and it's up to the witches, now including Agnes along with Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax, to stop them.

Review:
This is a tongue-in-cheek thriller, with all the suspense and twice the humor of any spy novel.  Twice the humor?  Probably way more than that.  But there was also complex character development, and a chance to see the witches each grow in new ways, making it seem more novelistic than some of Pratchett's work.  Granny Weatherwax proves she's even more powerful than we thought.  Nanny Ogg proves she can (sometimes) think of something besides sex.  Agnes finds out that having another self occupying her brain isn't all bad, and Magrat discovers she can be both mother, queen, and witch, and have a more interesting life that way.

I found myself trying to figure out how Pratchett was going to save Lancre from the Magpyrs, and I really couldn't see it.  I knew he would, of course.  I just had no idea how he would get there (except being pretty sure Granny Weatherwax would swoop in just in time.  But even she looked pretty seriously inadequate to the task at hand).

And all the time, Pratchett keeps up a running sub-theme satirizimng religion.  He raises points like the difficulty of keeping faith when one reads a lot, and the difference between praying about a problem and doing something about it.  (For those who are sensitive on such issues, Pratchett is an unashamed and vocal atheist.  I happen to enjoy that.  If you don't, you may not like his work, though in my opinion it's always worth seeing and understanding the criticisms of any belief system to which one subscribes).

The final putting of the vampyres in their place is a thing of beauty and a joy, and I for one will happily read about the witches any time.  Highly recommended for all fans of Pratchett, witches, the absurd, and any foolish teens with silly ideas about vampires (they'll hate it, but maybe learn some important lessons).

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Full Disclosure: I borrowed Carpe Jugulum from my (online) library, and received nothing from the writer or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."

Book Review: Interesting Times

Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times.  Ebook from the library, so I don't know how many pages.

Yet another venture to the Discworld.

Summary: Rincewind, the (disc)world's most hopeless wizard (he can't even spell it, for heaven's sake!) finds himself on call in a land far, far away (any resemblances to China are, I am sure, totally coincidental).  As for the rest, the title tells it all.  You know the old curse, right?  "May you live in interesting times."  Probably the thing Rincewind wants least.  He likes boring.  Boring he never seems to get.

Review:  Pratchett skates close to the edges of real political incorrectness in this one, but it's funny enough that I don't think it matters.  And however stereotypical the language problems he presents, they are not only funny but pretty accurate, at far as I understand Chinese (which admittedly is all by hearsay, as I don't in fact understand Chinese at all).  Good jokes, good adventure, and about what I expect of Pratchett's writing.  I'm trying to think of the flaws, as I'm sure there must be some.  I know I was bothered by a lack of stopping places, but I don't think that's really a flaw.  At most, it struck me that Pratchett was working a little too hard at this one, pulling up everything from the oddities of a tonal language to the terra cotta warriors and a bit that didn't quite fit the theme, about butterflies that change the weather.  Worked for me, though.

Definitely a thumbs-up.  Like Pratchett has ever earned any less from me.  Heck, I just have a lot of fun with his books!

Book Review: Soul Music

Continuing my steady read through all of Sir Terry Pratchett's Discworld books.  This month's selection is Soul Music.

 

Soul Music, by Terry Pratchett.  The 16th Discworld book.

Publisher: HarperPrism, 1995

Source: the Library

Brief Summary:

Really?  I don't think it's possible.  Okay, I'll give it a try.  A young bard named Imp y Celyn (which means "of the holly") gets tired of being just a young bard in a country full of bards, so he goes traveling.  And ends up in Ankh-Morpork.  Where he discovers that the Musician's Guild has a stranglehold on all music, and that he and a couple of fellow-musicians (a Dwarf named Glod and a troll named Lias) don't have the money to join.  But they do have the money to buy a very strange guitar, which has some very strange effects on them.  Meanwhile, Death's granddaughter Susan is having some very strange experiences.  Death is having (another) existential crisis and has gone missing, so somebody has to take over.  But Susan is all too human.  Things get weird after that.

Okay, that does it.  I'm not going to try any more.

Review:

I admit I have my times of wondering who the heck I am to write a review of Sir Terry's work.  I mean, really?  But that's what I do, so I'll try.  

I have mixed feelings about this one, as I do every time too much of our world intrudes into the Discworld.  I mean, I know the whole thing is just a means of satirizing the heck out of everything human, but still, I get all weird when the boundaries of fantasy and reality start to blur (for the record, I also liked Anne McCaffrey's Pern a lot less when the old computer started to give them modern technology).  But Soul Music is also just glorious fun, with all the references to rock and roll (er, that would be "music with rocks in").  And he does offer a brilliant view of the beginning of everything in a single chord of music.  I really like that modification of the big bang.  The Big Band theory?

Finally, we are given a view of the choices we all face, in a way.  Susan Death may be able to prevent the day the music died, but young Imp (known from the time he started playing music with rocks in as Buddy Celyn, and you figure it out) may have to pay the price.

There's a boatload of inside jokes, a fair number of references that the younger generation may or may not get, and a joke about viola players that I have to remember to share with my Mom (who plays viola).  All in all, a worthwhile Discworld outing. 

Full Disclosure: I checked out this copy of Soul Music from my library and received nothing whatsoever from the author or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed in this review are my own and no one else's.

   

Notice: This blog is posting itself in my absence.  If you comment, I WILL respond. . . but not for a few weeks.  This does not mean I no longer love you.  It just means I've gone hiking.

Book Review: Men at Arms (Discworld)

Oops. . . scheduled this for the wrong day.  Here it is again, on the right day.

Men at Arms, by Sir Terry Pratchett
1993, HarperTorch.
Source: library

My Mystery Mondays have degenerated a bit, as I've been distracted by other types of reading (really, an adult mystery and a kid's book each week is a bit ambitious, even for me!).  But have no fear--Discworld's here!  Yup, another outing in Sir Terry Pratchett's incredible Discworld collection (I hesitate to call it a series, because that implies a sense of organization and connectivity that isn't always present.  Still, I'm reading them "in order," i.e. in the order he wrote them.  If nothing else it's a good study in the development of a writer and a world.

Which leads me to muse about the whole thing of world-building, since that's something we all (all us writers, that is) do, even those writing the most realistic fiction in real settings.  Heck, non-fiction writers have to do it too, though the world they build is rather more constrained.  The thing is, when I reflect on this, I think that in pretty much every series I know, the world is a bit underdeveloped in the first book, and grows into a great deal more depth and interest as the series lengthens.  I see it with most of my favorite mystery writers, who start with a very small piece of a small community, and over the course of many books the picture of the place becomes more 3-dimensional and the cast of characters widens.  Fantasies broaden from tiny, easily-grasped worlds to realistically complex and diverse ones.

It's certainly true of my own writing--the world of Skunk Corners developed a lot through the stories in The Ninja Librarian, and grew still broader in Return to Skunk Corners (coming soon--watch this space!).  Then I have to make decisions about how wide that world can get before it intersects too heavily with reality and ceases to function.   My two other WIPs (yes, I've been a bit ADHD or something and actually now have three books in various stages of editing!) are a mystery and a fantasy--each requiring the creation of a world, each world clearly needing to be broadened as I think about sequels.


Where was I?  Oh, yes, Sir Terry.  Discworld.  More specifically, Men at Arms.  This:

 As I was saying about world-building, Discworld has come a long way from The Color of Magic.  Yet it remains full of surprises, delight, and of course knee-slapping humor at the expense of just about every sacred cow.  In Men at Arms, Pratchett takes on weapons control, Affirmative Action, and marriage, among other things.  Of course, when Pratchett gets hold of them, these things all seem a little odd.  Among the Guard of Ankh-Morpork, Affirmative Action means making room for dwarfs, trolls, and other things, which may or may not be human depending on conditions.  We can laugh, and we can squirm a bit, too.

By the time the crime is solved (Carrot to the rescue once again!) we've been exposed to everything from exploding dragons to the Assassin's Guild to the truly terrifying Clown's Guild, not to mention the treacherous waters of matrimony.  If you haven't both laughed and felt slightly affronted by the end of this book, there is probably something wrong with you.  You might even shed a tear, which is less common on Discworld, but, well, anything can happen there.

Full Disclosure: I checked out this copy of Men at Arms from my library and received nothing whatsoever from the author or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed in this review are my own and no one else's.

D: Disc World

Reviewing Small Gods, a Discworld novel by Terry Pratchett.

(For the record, yes, I am working hard and stretching a bit to make this alphabet thing work out.  Wanna make something of it?).

Note: Sir Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels are incredible fun and great satire. . . and suitable for young adults and up.  He's also brilliantly irreverent, so if that bothers you, watch out!

For anyone who isn't familiar with the books, Sir Terry Pratchett invented the Discworld, a disc-shaped planet held up by four elephants who stand on the back of the great A'tuin, the giant turtle.  Discworld, being flat, has given Pratchett a great platform for many, many satirical novels which send up everything from Hollywood (see Moving Pictures) to religion (which brings us to Small Gods).

 First, Small Gods is about belief as much as it is about religion, and maybe is best summed up, after nearly a whole book sending up religion (and noticing how seldom real faith happens, and pretty much accusing the leaders of religion of believing in nothing but themselves), by the following passage.  Simony, a cynical soldier who believes in nothing, addresses the god Om, who has just made himself rather obvious and undeniable, about the need to reconstruct the country.

"Will you help?"
VI.  And Brave, Too, To Declare Atheism Before Your God. [responds the god]
"This doesn't change anything, you know!" said Simony.  "Don't think you can get round me by existing!"

I'm tempted to leave my review right there, but I suppose there ought to be more. 

When Pratchett gets hold of the gods, he figures out a few things.  For one, the gods exist to the degree that they have believers, real believers.  In the case of Om, when the story opens, he has exactly one: Brutha, a novice in the temple in Omnia, and apparently a half-wit.  All the other Omnians believe in themselves, and in the usefulness of religion.   As is usually the case, of course, Brutha's half a wit proves better than most people's whole wits, and his faith is strong enough to allow him to disagree with his god, and forge his own way to what is right and good.  He may, in fact, be the only person in all the lands encompassed by the tale who gives a poop about justice and kindness.  This, as the Omnian  religious leaders find out the hard way, makes him a very dangerous man.

Other great characters (including those used to make fun of philosophy and technology) are Didactylos and his nephew (and philosophical apprentice cum engineer) Urn, and Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, who sells things to the religious tourists.  Much of what he sells is supposedly edible, and "onna stick."  Then there's Om.  Nothing like a Great God who has tried to turn himself into a bull or something, and ends up stuck as a tortoise.  It's really hard to be god-like when you move that slowly, and even worse when you can't manage even a bit of lightning.  And if he can't keep Brutha alive, he's dead, because a god with no believers is done.

One final thought, which is also a "D" thought.  I wonder what my Dad, who was a Presbyterian minister (and taught me an appreciation for irreverence, though I may have taken it a bit farther than he wanted. . . ) would have thought of the book?  I have a sneaking feeling he might have approved.