What do you do when you're having an absolutely hellish week?
Reread something comforting! Reread Terry Pratchett, especially!
I put my grand chronologiWhat do you do when you're having an absolutely hellish week?
Reread something comforting! Reread Terry Pratchett, especially!
I put my grand chronological Discworld reread on hold for a few years because the Death books made me too melancholy, but I think I'm finally ready to dip back in -- and really, revisiting these is like coming home to old friends, to a warm hearth. Witches Abroad deals with, predictably, the Lancre witches as they set off abroad to Genua (a Louisiana stand-in) to untangle an escalating problem there. They come across what turns out to be a fairy godmother gone rogue, bending an entire land to fit the fairytale formula, no matter how much its poor citizens don't want to be forced into the shape of that story. There's some lovely uncanniness exploring familiar fairytales set down in unnatural shapes, and fairy godmother and wicked witch tropes turned on their head, as well as some family feelings as the enemy at the heart of it all turns to have more personal connections to the witches than expected.
There's a rich swampy atmosphere, with New Orleans-style cooking and a more diverse picture of witchery, and respectable voodoo, and good old Baron Samedi Saturday. Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg are wonderful as always, this perfect complement of these two old best friends who balance each other perfectly, and as they take foreign lands by storm with poor novice witch Magrat by their side. Love them, as ever.
People think stories are shaped by people. In fact it's the other way around. Stories exist independently of their players. If you know that, the knowledge is power.
There was a sigh from Death. Space, he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once human
There was a sigh from Death. Space, he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once humans saw all that space, their brains expanded to try and fill it up.
2.5 stars rounded up down. There are some great things in this book -- Victor's calculated laziness at the University, Detritus' attempts at courtship2.5 stars rounded up down. There are some great things in this book -- Victor's calculated laziness at the University, Detritus' attempts at courtship, the wizards, CMOT Dibbler's new turn as a sleazy Hollywood Holy Wood movie exec, Gaspode the Wonder Dog in his first appearance -- but the sum of its parts, unfortunately, doesn't really come to anything significant. This one's also pretty skippable, if you're not a Discworld completionist.
As Ashley pointed out, it's too literal. In terms of the differences between satire, parody, and pastiche, this one comes across more like Hollywood pastiche rather than Pratchett's more biting satire and original plots. There was far more beneath the surface of Wyrd Sisters than the straight Shakespearean spoof, after all -- whereas here, if you trim away the motion pictures, well, there's nothing left.
Victor and Ginger are sort of unmemorable as main characters, which is a large part of the problem too imo -- they never show up again in the series. It's telling that I had more emotions about the dogs, Laddie and Gaspode, than about the main couple.
The resolution is totally cinematic (ha) and action-driven, which was cool, but what bothered me most about it was how deus ex machina-y and exposition-dump-y it was; Victor and Ginger end up blathering lots of explanations about what's going on, as they instantaneously understand all of it, and it all felt a bit forced. There's no overarching message in the book, either, which prevents it from having a lasting impact; other Discworld books are far more clear-cut about what they're getting at and what their main characters are learning, even if it's just, at its core, about the evils of everyday resentful men & an alcoholic pulling himself out of the gutter and learning to care about his job again (as in Guards! Guards!).
But the Really Good things that I want to call out: 1) Gaspoooode! <3 Seriously, I have so many feelings about this dog, he's great and he consistently had some of the funnier scenes. His dynamic with Laddie (who is the most adorable) was also hilarious. Re: the ending: (SPOILERS) (view spoiler)[For a fleeting moment I thought both dogs would die, and I was about to be SO FUCKING GUTTED and emotionally ruined by this book... so I was so relieved when they didn't. :") Gaspode losing his sentience is weirdly bittersweet and sad, though. But I could have sworn Gaspode retains his intelligence/ability to speak in later books, though? So I'm curious to see how that pans out and when he appears again. (hide spoiler)]
2) The wizards are flat-out my favourite thing in this book. Because at last we have Mustrum Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons; my love for Ridcully as Archchancellor really can't be quantified, and I ended up highlighting the entire multiple pages of his first appearance, because it was so good. And I'm constantly delighted by the wizards' interactions as a group, e.g. sequences like this made me giggle hysterically to myself:
[The Librarian] was slightly surprised to see [the figure] followed by some sort of spectral horse whose hooves made no sound on the cobbles.
And that was followed by a three-wheeled bathchair that took the corner on only two of them, sparks streaming away behind it. It was loaded down with wizards, all shouting at the tops of their voices. Occasionally one of them would lose his grip and have to run behind until he could get up enough speed to leap on again.
Three of them hadn’t made it. That is, one of them had made it sufficiently to get a grip on the trailing leather cover, and the other two had made it just enough to grab the robe of the one in front, so that now, every time it took a bend, a tail of three wizards going “whaaaaa” snapped wildly across the road behind it.
At the end of the day, a mediocre Pratchett is still better than many other authors at their best. I don't regret reading this one, which is more than I could say about Eric.
Favourite quotes below, very many, much spoilers:
(view spoiler)[There had been so much in-fighting between the various orders of wizardry in recent years that, just for once, the senior wizards had agreed that what the University needed was a period of stability, so that they could get on with their scheming and intriguing in peace and quiet for a few months. A search of the records turned up Ridcully the Brown who, after becoming a Seventh Level mage at the incredibly young age of twenty-seven, had quit the University in order to look after his family’s estates deep in the country.
He looked ideal.
“Just the chap,” they all said. “Clean sweep. New broom. A country wizard. Back to the thingumajigs, the roots of wizardry. Jolly old boy with a pipe and twinkly eyes. Sort of chap who can tell one herb from another, roams-the-high-forest-with-every-beast-his-brother kind of thing. Sleeps under the stars, like as not. Knows what the wind is saying, we shouldn’t wonder. Got a name for all the trees, you can bank on it. Speaks to the birds, too.”
A messenger had been sent. Ridcully the Brown had sighed, cursed a bit, found his staff in the kitchen garden where it had been supporting a scarecrow, and had set out.
“And if he’s any problem,” the wizards had added, in the privacy of their own heads, “anyone who talks to trees should be no trouble to get rid of.”
And then he’d arrived, and it turned out that Ridcully the Brown did speak to the birds. In fact he shouted at birds, and what he normally shouted was, “Winged you, yer bastard!”
The beasts of the field and fowls of the air did know Ridcully the Brown. They’d got so good at pattern-recognition that, for a radius of about twenty miles around the Ridcully estates, they’d run, hide or in desperate cases attack violently at the mere sight of a pointy hat.
Within twelve hours of arriving, Ridcully had installed a pack of hunting dragons in the butler’s pantry, fired his dreadful crossbow at the ravens on the ancient Tower of Art, drunk a dozen bottles of red wine, and rolled off to bed at two in the morning singing a song with words in it that some of the older and more forgetful wizards had to look up.
And then he got up at five o’clock to go duck hunting down in the marshes on the estuary.
And came back complaining that there wasn’t a good trout fishin’ river for miles. (You couldn’t fish in the river Ankh; you had to jump up and down on the hooks even to make them sink.)
And he ordered beer with his breakfast.
And told jokes.
***
The Alchemists’ Guildhall was new. It was always new.
***
The Bursar hesitated. There was always this trouble with the Librarian. Everyone had got so accustomed to him it was hard to remember a time when the Library was not run by a yellow-fanged ape with the strength of three men. If the abnormal goes on long enough it becomes the normal. It was just that, when you came to explain it to a third party, it sounded odd.
***
“In fact, I wanted to see you about one of the students, Master,” he said coldly.
“Students?” barked the Archchancellor.
“Yes, Master. You know? They’re the thinner ones with the pale faces? Because we’re a university? They come with the whole thing, like rats—”
***
“Look at wizards,” Ginger went on, vibrating with indignation. “What good has their magic ever done anyone?”
“I think it sort of holds the world together—” Victor began.
***
When Dibbler spoke next, you could have sunk a well in his voice and sold it at ten dollars a barrel.
***
Trolls! Battles! Romance! People with thin mustaches! Soldiers of fortune! And one woman’s fight to keep the—Dibbler hesitated—something-or-other she loves, we’ll think about this later, in a world gone mad!
The pen jerked and tore and raced onward.
Brother against brother! Women in crinoline dresses slapping people’s faces! A mighty dynasty brought low!
A great city aflame! Not with passione, he made a note in the margin, but with flame.
Possibly even—
He bit his lip.
Yeah. He’d been waiting for this! Yeah!
A thousand elephants!
***
In the handlemen’s shed, C.M.O.T. Dibbler stood watching thoughtfully as Gaffer pasted together the day’s footage. The handleman was feeling very gratified; Mr. Dibbler had never shown the slightest interest in the actual techniques of film handling before now. This may have explained why he was a little freer than usual with Guild secrets that had been handed down sideways from one generation to the same generation.
***
“Yeah,” said Detritus. “She don’t know what she wants. I do what she want, then she say, that not right, you a troll with no finer feelin’, you do not understand what a girl wants. She say, Girl want sticky things to eat in box with bow around, I make box with bow around, she open box, she scream, she say flayed horse not what she mean. She don’t know what she wants.”
***
It was dawning on the wizards that they were outside the University, at night and without permission, for the first time in decades. A certain suppressed excitement crackled from man to man. Any watcher trained in reading body language would have been prepared to bet that, after the click, someone was going to suggest that they might as well go somewhere and have a few drinks, and then someone else would fancy a meal, and then there was always room for a few more drinks, and then it would be 5 a.m. and the city guards would be respectfully knocking on the University gates and asking if the Archchancellor would care to step down to the cells to identify some alleged wizards who were singing an obscene song in six-part harmony, and perhaps he would also care to bring some money to pay for all the damage. Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.
***
They looked back down at the Thing, which had nearly dissolved. “’Twas beauty killed the beast,” said the Dean, who liked to say things like that.
“No it wasn’t,” said the Chair. “It was it splatting into the ground like that.” (hide spoiler)]...more
When? am I going? to properly enjoy a Rincewind book?? But thankfully, we're going to get a big ole break from him after this one, and his next two arWhen? am I going? to properly enjoy a Rincewind book?? But thankfully, we're going to get a big ole break from him after this one, and his next two are Interesting Times and The Last Continent, both of which I remember as being pretty great.
First off, every cover always needs to depict this title as "Faust Eric", because that detail is crucial. Eric is our nebbish, bespectacled, adolescent Faustus, and Rincewind his inept Mephistopheles. The thirteen-year-old demonologist accidentally summons Rincewind out of the Dungeon Dimensions (where he's been running around since the events of Sourcery) and plops him back into reality, where Rincewind then attempts to grant the boy three wishes and things go awry.
It's shorter than the other novels, since it originally came out as an illustrated book (I read it as the re-released version without illustrations). The best part is the restructuring of Hell, the demon city Pandemonium, as a boring bureaucracy -- because hell as soul-crushing bureaucracy is literally one of my favourite concepts.
But apart from that...? You can honestly just skip this one. It's got some mildly funny moments, but doesn't have anything especially important to say (unlike other Discworld books), and it doesn't involve any character development or lasting dynamics.
A couple favourite quotes:
"It was only, you know, a hobby," said the imp. "I thought, you know, it was the right thing, sort of thing. Death and destruction and all that."
"You did, did you?" said the King. "Thousands of more-or-less innocent people dying? Straight out of our hands," he snapped his fingers, "just like that. Straight off to their happy hunting ground or whatever. That's the trouble with you people. You don't think of the Big Picture. I mean, look at the Tezumen. Gloomy, unimaginative, obsessive... by now they could have invented a whole bureaucracy and taxation system that could have turned the minds of the continent to slag. Instead of which, they're just a bunch of second-rate axe-murderers. What a waste."
***
That was the thing about time travel. You were never ready for it. About the only thing he could hope for, Rincewind decided, was finding da Quirm's Fountain of Youth and managing to stay alive for a few thousand years so he'd be ready to kill his own grandfather, which was the only aspect of time travel that had ever remotely appealed to him. He had always felt that his ancestors had it coming to them.
***
The creator looked around distractedly. "You haven't seen my book around, have you? I thought I had it in my hand when I started." He sighed. "Lose me own head next. I done a whole world once and completely left out the fingles. Not one of the buggers. Couldn't get 'em at the time, told myself I could nip back when they were in stock, completely forgot. Imagine that. No one spotted it, of course, because obviously they just evolved there and they didn't know there ought to be fingles, but it was definitely causing them deep, you know, psychological problems. Deep down inside they could tell there was something missing, sort of thing."
Along with Equal Rites (because Granny Weatherwax and the Unseen University, y'all), this, this, this is the book I advise new Discworld readers to stAlong with Equal Rites (because Granny Weatherwax and the Unseen University, y'all), this, this, this is the book I advise new Discworld readers to start with if they're trying to figure out if the series as a whole is for them. Because at long last, we now have the Watch: we have Vimes, we have the badassery that is Lady Sybil Ramkin, there's Carrot and Nobby and Colon, there's more Vetinari and the Librarian, there's the resurrection of the Night Watch as an institution.
And right back here at the start, the Watch consists only of three hardbitten, disillusioned men who mostly try to stay out of the way of crime. Vimes lives his life in the bottom of a glass of alcohol, content to persist in his holding pattern... until two things are unleashed upon their city: a destructive dragon, and an earnest, well-intentioned, entirely by-the-books new recruit. Through these shenanigans, they eventually remember what it means to be coppers, and to do the right thing.
(I've also heard multiple people say that Due South and its main character is extremely reminiscent of Carrot, so like, clearly I need to watch that show next...)
It's funny going back to this first book where the Watch is just a shambles of a building and three downtrodden men, because I'm coming off the heels of things like Monstrous Regiment, where it's huge and bustling.
And I just want to gush a bit more about Sybil! There's a few jokes at her girth, but more in the sense that she, along with her personality, is just so indomitable and no one can stop her. Vimes' tongue-tied embarrassment around her and Nobby's leering flirtation is great. She's a zaftig, overweight woman who is not robbed of her power or agency or independence or desires or capacity to be a viable romantic prospect, and it warms my heart.
Anyway, it's great! The Watch books are usually my very favourites in the series; it's a very different organisation right now than it will be later, but it's valuable seeing where they all began, and it's a witty, poignant book besides.
Plus, just, these characters will take up solid residence in your heart. My tablet is literally named Vimes. <3
Favourite quotes below, spoilery: (view spoiler)[Now pull back briefly from the dripping streets of Ankh-Morpork -- pan across the morning mists of the Disc, and focus in again on a young man heading for the city with all the openness, sincerity and innocence of purpose of an iceberg drifting into a major shipping lane.
***
Carrot took the news without fuss, just as he took instructions about re-opening Shaft #4 or cutting timber for shoring props. All dwarfs are by nature dutiful, serious, literate, obedient and thoughtful people whose only minor failing is a tendency, after one drink, to rush at enemies screaming “Arrrrrrgh!” and axing their legs off at the knee.
***
Letters rarely got written in that mine. Work stopped and the whole clan had sat around in respectful silence as his pen scrittered across the parchment. His aunt had been sent up to Varneshi’s to beg his pardon but could he see his way clear to sparing a smidgen of wax. His sister had been sent down to the village to ask Mistress Garlick the witch how you stopped spelling recommendation.
***
In his pocket was the famous letter from the Patrician, the man who ruled the great fine city of Ankh-Morpork.
At least, that’s how his mother had referred to it. It certainly had an important-looking crest at the top, but the signature was something like “Lupin Squiggle, Sec’y, pp.”
Still, if it wasn’t actually signed by the Patrician then it had certainly been written by someone who worked for him. Or in the same building. Probably the Patrician had at least known about the letter. In general terms. Not this letter, perhaps, but probably he knew about the existence of letters in general.
***
[Part of Carrot's letters home:]
There is certainly a lot to do. When I went to see the Sgt. I saw a place called, The Thieves’ Guild!! I asked Mrs. Palm and she said, Of course. She said the leaders of the Thieves in the City meet there. I went to the Watch House and met Sgt. Colon, a very fat man, and when I told him about the Thieves’ Guild he said, Don’t be A Idiot. I do not think he is serious. He says, Don’t you worry about Thieves’ Guilds, This is all what you have to do, you walk along the Streets at Night, shouting, It’s Twelve O’clock and All’s Well. I said, What if it is not all well, and he said, You bloody well find another street.
This is not Leadership.
***
And then, of course, there was himself. Just a skinny, un-shaven collection of bad habits marinated in alcohol. And that was the Night Watch. Just the three of them. Once there had been dozens, hundreds. And now–just three.
Vimes fumbled his way up the stairs, groped his way into his office, slumped into the primeval leather chair with its prolapsed stuffing, scrabbled at the bottom drawer, grabbed bottle, bit cork, tugged, spat out cork, drank. Began his day.
The world swam into focus.
Life is just chemicals. A drop here, a drip there, everything’s changed. A mere dribble of fermented juices and suddenly you’re going to live another few hours.
[NOTE FROM JULIE: I love this sequence for how noirish the voice sounds?]
***
A nearby dwarf, wearing a helmet encrusted with six-inch spikes, started to cry gently into his beer.
[NOTE FROM JULIE: I laughed so hard when I first read this sequence, culminating in this line, that I was wheezing]
***
sunshine [lit: “the stare of the great hot eye in the sky whose fiery gaze penetrates the mouth of the cavern”]
***
He knocked. This caused another fusillade of strange whistling noises. The door opened. Something dreadful loomed over him.
“Ah, good man. Do you know anything about mating?” it boomed.
***
It was so easy. All you had to do was channel that great septic reservoir of jealousy and cringing resentment that the Brothers had in such abundance, harness their dreadful mundane unpleasantness which had a force greater in its way than roaring evil, and then open your own mind…
[NOTE FROM JULIE: This bit reminds me of the casual, quotidian malevolence of MRAs,which storylines have tapped into recently with things like The Force Awakens and Ghostbusters.]
***
“Monsters are getting more uppity, too,” said another. “I heard where this guy, he killed this monster in this lake, no problem, stuck its arm up over the door—”
“Pour encourjay lays ortras,” said one of the listeners.
“Right, and you know what? Its mum come and complained. Its actual mum come right down to the hall next day and complained. Actually complained. That’s the respect you get.”
***
The bedside table was piled high with papers. Feeling guilty, but doing it anyway, Vimes squinted at them.
Dragons was the theme. There were letters from the Cavern Club Exhibitions Committee and the Friendly Flamethrowers League. There were pamphlets and appeals from the Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons—“Poor little VINNY’s fires were nearly Damped after Five years’ Cruel Use as a Paint-Stripper, but now—” And there were requests for donations, and talks, and things that added up to a heart big enough for the whole world, or at least that part of it that had wings and breathed fire.
***
Normally the only decoration in there was on Sham Harga’s vest and the food was good solid stuff for a cold morning, all calories and fat and protein and maybe a vitamin crying softly because it was all alone.
***
The three rules of the Librarians of Time and Space are: 1) Silence; 2) Books must be returned no later than the last date shown; and 3) Do not interfere with the nature of causality.
***
The silence purred at them as Wonse talked. They avoided one another’s faces, for fear of what they might see mirrored there. Each man thought: one of the others is bound to say something soon, some protest, and then I’ll murmur agreement, not actually say anything, I’m not as stupid as that, but definitely murmur very firmly, so that the others will be in no doubt that I thoroughly disapprove, because at a time like this it behooves all decent men to nearly stand up and be almost heard…
But no one said anything. The cowards, each man thought.
[NOTE FROM JULIE: This bit is so, so good for its illustration of the bystander effect and collective responsibility and the evils of inaction and ahhh]
***
You have the effrontery to be squeamish, it thought at him. But we were dragons. We were supposed to be cruel, cunning, heartless, and terrible. But this much I can tell you, you ape—the great face pressed even closer, so that Wonse was staring into the pitiless depths of his eyes—we never burned and tortured and ripped one another apart and called it morality.
***
"The Duke of Sto Helit is looking for a guard captain, I’m sure. I’ll write you a letter. You’ll like them, they’re a very nice young couple.”
[NOTE FROM JULIE: OMG I THINK THIS IS MORT AND YSABELL???]
***
“Let me give you some advice, Captain,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“It may help you make some sense of the world.”
“Sir.”
“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people,” said the man. “You’re wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.”
***
She smiled at him.
And then it arose and struck Vimes that, in her own special category, she was quite beautiful; this was the category of all the women, in his entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at. She couldn’t do worse, but then, he couldn’t do better. So maybe it balanced out. She wasn’t getting any younger but then, who was? And she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things that he didn’t, and she had opened her heart, and if you let her she could engulf you; the woman was a city.
And eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done—unbar the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own.
He'd been conscientious, he told himself. No one had ever explained to him how one made the sun come up and the river flood and the corn grow. How cou
He'd been conscientious, he told himself. No one had ever explained to him how one made the sun come up and the river flood and the corn grow. How could they? He was the god, after all. He should know. But he didn't, so he'd just gone through life hoping like hell that it would all work properly, and that seemed to have done the trick. The trouble was, though, that if it didn't work, he wouldn't know why not. A recurrent nightmare was of Dios the high priest shaking him awake one morning, only it wouldn't be a morning, of course, and of every light in the palace burning and an angry crowd muttering in the star-lit darkness outside and everyone looking expectantly at him...
And all he'd be able to say was, "Sorry."
This book is so cute. 3.5 stars (although I can't fully decide whether to swing up or down). It's one of the Discworld standalones, a book with really solid, tight plotting that can stand perfectly fine on its own, and also proves how far Pratchett's come with his plotlines and his larger casts.
I love the insight we get to the Assassins Guild, the change of pace from the witches and wizards to another corner of this world -- I wish more of the book had been set there, to be honest, featurng the expat prince of a broke, stagnant kingdom being sent away to earn some money, learning at one of the most esteemed and classy and dangerous guilds out there. THE ASSASSINS ARE SO COOL, Y'ALL.
Pyramids also has the honour of originating the fandom nickname "Pterry" for the author (and thus also, by extension, "Gneil" for Neil Gaiman), coming from Pteppic and Ptraci and the Djelibeybian accent with its nearly-silent p's.
At its core, this book is about family, tradition, progression, and the power of belief, all of which dovetail so nicely with Discworld's themes overall. Djelibeybi is a pseudo-ancient Egyptian culture, bordered by analogues for ancient Rome and Greece -- a kingdom that's fallen into the repetitive rut of ritual and expectation, and doesn't know how to shake itself out of it until their progressive prince returns from Ankh-Morpork (and then quantum physics break down a bit). The point of this series is often about dragging conservatives kicking and screaming into the next century, and in which people's idea of a thing or person or god matters more than the reality of the thing. Pterry keeps revisiting this concept over the course of the series, and I still like it every time.
Next up: finally finally finally the first Watch novel...!
(Also, random note: My collection of print Discworld books back home is a mix of UK and US copies, which means that it feels tremendously weird & wrong to shelve them with the wrong covers compared to the specific one I grew up with. But for this reread project, I'm consciously selecting all of the covers with Josh Kirby illustrations, because lurid and cheesecakey as they are, they also seem quintessentially Discworld to me.)
A few favourite quotes: (view spoiler)[The late king had had many fine attributes, but doing mighty deeds wasn't among them. The score was: Number of enemies ground as dust under his chariot wheels = 0. Number of thrones crushed beneath his sandaled feet = 0. Number of times world bestrode like colossus = 0. On the other hand: Reigns of terror = 0. Number of times own throne crushed beneath enemy sandals = 0. Faces of poor ground = 0. Expensive crusades embarked upon = 0. His life had, basically, been a no-score win.
***
He turned to the assembled soldiers. They were staring at him with expressions of amazement, apart from those who hadn't removed their helmets and who were staring at him with expressions of metallic ferocity.
***
The mummies examined the worn entrance and creaked at one another in surprise. One of the very ancient ones, who was barely holding himself together, made a noise like deathwatch beetle finally conquering a rotten tree. "What'd he say?" said Teppicymon. The mummy of Ashk-ur-men-tep translated. "He saide yt ys Spooky," he croaked.
***
Seven thousand years is just one day at a time.
***
That's how we survive infinity--we kill it by breaking it up into small bits.
***
The trouble with gods is that after enough people start believing in them, they begin to exist. And what begins to exist isn't what was originally intended. Chefet, Chefet, thought Dios. Maker of rings, weaver of metal. Now he's out of our heads, and see how his nails grow into claws...
*** He saw the tiny shape halfway up the wall of the pyramid, saw it falter. The rest of the ancestors saw it, too, and as one corpse they knew what to do. Dios could wait. This was family.
***
Going forth is easy. Going back requires an effort of will, because it is much harder. Thank you.(hide spoiler)]...more
The wind howled. Lightning stabbed at the earth erratically, like an inefficient assassin. Thunder rolled back and forth across the dark, rain-lashed
The wind howled. Lightning stabbed at the earth erratically, like an inefficient assassin. Thunder rolled back and forth across the dark, rain-lashed hills. The night was as black as the inside of a cat. It was the kind of night, you could believe, on which gods moved men as though they were pawns on the chessboard of fate. In the middle of this elemental storm a fire gleamed among the dripping furze bushes like the madness in a weasel's eye. It illuminated three hunched figures. As the cauldron bubbled an eldritch voice shrieked: "When shall we three meet again?" There was a pause. Finally another voice said, in far more ordinary tones: "Well, I can do next Tuesday."
Seriously, I love the witches books so much. (There's a reason I always played a witch on Discworld MUD...) This book is where their setup and interpersonal dynamics really coalesce, too: maiden, mother, and crone respectively, cast in a brilliant satire on Hamlet/Macbeth and Shakespearean plays in general, histories and tragedies and comedies alike. The interplay between Granny Weatherwax/Nanny Ogg/Magrat Garlick is wonderful, all three of them representing different aspects of witchcraft, and the two older women patiently teaching their younger student how to be a practical, no-nonsense witch with headology at her disposal. (And seriously, these two older ladies are such badasses. ESME, YR MY QUEEN.)
Lancre and the Ramtops are expanded as a setting, too, and considering my snowy mountainous forested home, I'm really fond of this location -- and as I mentioned about the Unseen University, the setting here has character, and it senses when it's been wronged.
I criticised the romantic pacing in Mort, but Pratchett almost immediately course-corrects and finds a nice groove with Magrat/the Fool, because they are adorable. I also love Tomjon and the traveling acting troupe as characters!
Really, that's the big takeaway from me here: rather than tongue-in-cheek jokes and mere spoofing, instead the series' focus has become plot and character and real themes, like tyranny, PR, the truth, and the power of words to rewrite history. The Discworld series has definitely hit its stride by now, as they're full of heart and great characterisations....more
It's kinda fun seeing the real reason behind the wizards' enforced celibacy, of which most of them have forgotten the true origin of the prohibition oIt's kinda fun seeing the real reason behind the wizards' enforced celibacy, of which most of them have forgotten the true origin of the prohibition on sex & marrying -- because if a wizard has eight sons, the eighth will be born a sourcerer, and crack the very foundations of the world. It's an interesting plot with very high stakes, and more detailed appearances by the Librarian and the Patrician (which are two of my favourite characters!).
But also, eurgh. These early Rincewind books are seriously a struggle -- not because they're necessarily bad, but each one is simply a slightly improved variation of the previous, which leads to a sense of incredibly repetitive plots and "haven't I seen this before?". For example, the final threat in Sourcery is wizardry luring creatures from the Dungeon Dimensions to break through to this world -- just as it kinda was in TLF. This one just entails slightly higher stakes (the end of the universe!!), a larger cast, and slightly more fleshed-out characters: Poor Coin! I love Conina! Precious Nijel the Destroyer, and Creosote! And the wizards of UU are my favourite thing as always, since I'm obsessed with the lethal oddball academia of this school.
My new thought is that if you're going to start Discworld from the very beginning, I may advise just skipping The Colour of Magic & The Light Fantastic, and let this one be your first Rincewind novel instead, because it's a refinement on the formula of the previous two. You wouldn't get Twoflower, but honestly you wouldn't be missing out on that much, plus in this one you finally feel like Rincewind is growing as a person, as he reluctantly faces his cowardice and finds something to fight for. I looooved his ending,
HOWEVER. I think I've finally pinpointed what bothers me about Rincewind books (or at least these early ones): he does not have any significant interpersonal dynamics to speak of, which makes it hard to care. There's the Luggage (a non-talking physical object) and Twoflower (mostly gone after book two) -- but otherwise, so far there's just fleeting teamups & temporary companions. Whereas the Watch and the witches all have very, very strong connections to each other and there's the chance of #feels. Hence I think the wizard books only rly get better once you get a recurring cast of characters like Ridcully, Ponder, and the Bursar, which isn't until later.
PS: It's also interesting watching Pratchett's style evolve wrt footnotes. Compared to how they were barely used in the early books, I felt like there were too many here and they were a bit overdone in this one, so that the footnote humour started feeling a little forced. Eventually, he'll find the right balance! PPS: On that note, I'm not going to shelve any Discworld book under my footnotes shelf, because otherwise it's going to be totally clogged with like a million DW books....more
I'll keep saying this, but Mort is also so much better than the first couple books -- and jumpstarts the Death subseries, with heart & soul & a poignaI'll keep saying this, but Mort is also so much better than the first couple books -- and jumpstarts the Death subseries, with heart & soul & a poignant exploration of What It Means To Be Human (which is, really, the entire point of every Death book). I love Death's attempts to raise Ysabell and hold down a job and learn more about existence. The boy-apprentice Mort is our hapless hero this time, but he undergoes much more character development than the more static Rincewind, and watching his transformation is great. Death himself is in full form, now coalesced into the character we know and love: well-intentioned, sympathetic and a little goofy like an embarrassing dad, a friend to cats, existentially lonely... and utterly terrifying if you get on his bad side.
The only thing is that I don't really feel the Mort/Ysabell ship all that much -- so much of the book was spent on his infatuation with Keli, after all, that the sudden lightspeed leap to him and Ysabell being in love and getting together was, well, very quick. (Romantic pacing is yet another thing that Pratchett gets better at later.) In fact, I sorta shipped Cutwell/Keli more?
Although: Both Ysabell and Keli are fab, especially because they're not Strong Female Characters by way of Herenna the Henna-Haired Barbarian. They're not warriors, they're just strong-minded and sensible women who want to get their way.
A lot of people say this book is one of the absolute best in the series, but somewhat blasphemously, something about it just doesn't hit my own particular buttons, despite my appreciation of Death. I think it comes down to not unmitigatedly loving the rest of the cast quite so much as in others. But Mort is still very, very solid as a novel, and reveals what a more traditionally good Discworld book is like....more
In reality -- and especially in comparison with later Discworld masterpieces -- this one's probably closer to 4-4.5, but it's just SO much better thanIn reality -- and especially in comparison with later Discworld masterpieces -- this one's probably closer to 4-4.5, but it's just SO much better than the first two books of the series that my kneejerk reaction is "THIS IS AMAZING". Right from the first few pages, you can immediately tell his voice has gotten even better -- and now, at last, we have Granny Weatherwax. :") It's with this character, imo, hat Pratchett actually goes beyond the hapless hero cliche, and creates someone with real depths and layers and quirks. She is fantastic. Just so damned fantastic (and this is even before she had Nanny Ogg as a foil!): this indomitable prideful old witch with her foibles and small-town loyalties and view of How Things Are Done. Her tutoring of Eskarina Smith, and looking after this girl destined to be a wizard, is touching, and Esk's seeking her fortune is like the best kind of adventure story or bildungsroman -- with a special feature into the Unseen University to boot.
Which I love. As previously mentioned, I love love love the UU. It was sketched out in the previous book, but now Pratchett is colouring it in, expanding the setting, giving it character of its own. (Quite literally! As with so many other settings & locations in this world, the university has personality.)
In general it's just a lot more visual book, with much clearer imagery, if that makes sense -- because the first two books felt mostly like dialogue/jokes pinned onto a bare framework, but I feel like the descriptions are getting more detailed now, and the characters getting deeper layers and interactions between them. It's also got some great themes (sexism! institutional sexism!! a little girl standing up for her own damned self and saving the day!),
I had forgotten about Cutangle as a character -- Mustrum Ridcully is my man -- but I actually really really like him! The climax to this book is just pitch-perfect, his and Granny's collaboration is hilarious and a little sweet, and I kinda ship it now? (Which is also a little jarring bc I remember shipping Ridcully/Granny too. CLEARLY JUST GRANNY/EVERY ARCHCHANCELLOR OTP)
Also Esk is fantastic. Young and precocious and stern, and determined to stubbornly stomp her way into her Destiny. I can't wait to run into her again in the Tiffany Aching subseries.
Alright, I got back from vacation a week ago, time to catch up and write some scattershot reviews!
3.5 stars for this one -- it's pretty much exactly pAlright, I got back from vacation a week ago, time to catch up and write some scattershot reviews!
3.5 stars for this one -- it's pretty much exactly precisely like The Colour of Magic, just slightly better. Pterry's humour flows a little more easily and confidently, and feels less forced. Like, the opening scene with the wizards running up through the floors of the university was AMAZING and hilarious and I could picture it so perfectly. In general, fleshing out the Unseen University and adding a bigger cast of characters was a really good idea, and helps make this book feel less sparse than its predecessor, especially since Unseen University is one of the best settings in the Discworld. (I may be a little biased, however. Lunatic academia! Wild libraries! Lazily homicidal professors murdering each other over tenure!) Also, for as much that Rincewind isn't my favourite protagonist, I do love the other wizards, so there's a certain enjoyment in the Rincewind books for that. Even Death reads a lot better now: his appearance here is hysterical.
Also it seems that Twoflower has now picked up Morporkian, so translation isn't a problem anymore, and helps him be a little more fleshed-out than Just An Asian Tourist. (This isn't really a slam, either. I like Twoflower!)
Although: my scavenged ebook was missing a huge ole chunk in the middle of the book, so I think I missed quite a lot in my reread. I'm okay with that, though, because while there's more of an overarching book plot now, it's still not very solid -- mostly just more careening from hijinks to hijinks. Everything is pretty surface-level. So, TLF is better! But still not great yet. It's fun but there's no real heart to it, which is what's missing in these early books, and which Pratchett promptly fixes in the next one. Because next up: Granny freakin' Weatherwax. <3...more
[FROM THE PREFACE:] The Discworld is not a coherent fantasy world. Its geography is fuzzy, its chronology unreliable. A small traveling circle of firel
[FROM THE PREFACE:] The Discworld is not a coherent fantasy world. Its geography is fuzzy, its chronology unreliable. A small traveling circle of firelight in a chilly infinity has turned out to be the home of defiant jokes and last chances.
There are no maps. You can't map a sense of humor. Anyway, what is a fantasy map but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? On the Discworld we know that There Be Dragons Everywhere. They might not all have scales and forked tongues, but they Be Here all right, grinning and jostling and trying to sell you souvenirs.
Enjoy.
Thus begins my Grand Discworld Reread, which will likely wreck my really great author gender ratio this year, although I'm not planning on reading them all in one fell swoop. This series is really near and dear to my heart -- I read every single book and grew up on them, devouring them from our school library, and I spent so many hours in Discworld MUD. I love this world so much.
However, this book is really not the best. I tell every new reader not to start with The Colour of Magic, and to pick up something like Guards! Guards! or Equal Rites instead -- partially because I overall prefer the Watch and the witches sub-series, but also because it takes Pratchett a little while to find his stride, his voice, his style. In this very earliest book, you can really see the nuts & bolts of him first figuring out how this lifelong series will work.
Still, though, I'm going to be stubborn and go through all 41 books in publication order, because I'm interested to follow a) the social and technological development within the Discworld itself, and b) the evolution of Pterry's writing as he goes.
The good: Ankh-Morpork is already fantastic. The best parts of this book imo are the first half within the city itself; it already has a living breathing identity of its own, and the comedy of Twoflower's oblivious arrival was great.
I really like the themes of technology vs. magic: part of the joy in this series is seeing how they replicate modern technological inventions but with magic. Rincewind, on the other hand, expresses his despair that he lives in such an absolutely bonkers world where science doesn't stand a chance.
Rincewind, Twoflower, and the Luggage (shush, it totally counts) are a good set of characters. They're classic, although Rincewind does more interesting things later; again, this book is testing the waters. But 'the first-ever tourist' as a plot is a fantastic conceit for showing off the Disc, and Twoflower is endearingly naive and cheerful as he waltzes his way from mortal peril to mortal peril, trailed by the cowering fake wizard. Also his ruminations about going everywhere & seeing everything just made me go yes, considering my love of seeing new places and how I wish I had all the money to just travel.
This book mainly spoofs things like Hercules/Conan-esque barbarian fantasy, magic swords, and Lovecraftian horrors.
For an old-time reader, the signs that Pterry has still not quite worked out his formula: This is more like a collection of short stories assembled into the vague shape of a novel, just episodic adventures, rather than a single coherent story. Plotlines and characters are picked up and dropped in order to get on to the next sight, the next shenanigans.
The Patrician is unnamed, and not quite as cool as he becomes later, though you can see glimpses of it.
Death is really, really out-of-character for what I remember of him. Every time he expressed delight in random killing or lost his temperI was like :( :( considering my memories of the sympathetic, philosophical, sort-of-hero we grow to love later.
There aren't any named characters from the Watch yet.
There are like no female characters; the only one is a barely sketched-out outline of a stereotype, unlike his later strong female characters who bust out of their tropes.
There's only one footnote!! This especially caught me off-guard, considering Discworld is known for being rife with footnote humour.
That modern-day AU sequence is bizarre. I had completely forgotten about it. I was not a fan.
In conclusion tho: If you're a new reader, I still stick by my original advice: this is not the place to begin Discworld. The Colour of Magic is more interesting as an artefact of its time, as an archaeological fossil to this legendary series. If you are a stubborn completionist like me, just be prepared for the fact that this one is sloppy and messy and a little mediocre (around 2.5-3 stars from me)... but the series gets better (so, so so so so much better) later, and you should absolutely stick with it. This one is an interesting ride that briefly introduces you to this zany world, but nothing much of significance happens.
Favourite quotes below:
(view spoiler)["Good. You say this is a tough place. Frequented, you mean, by heroes and men of adventure?"
Rincewind considered this. "Yes?" he managed.
"Excellent. I would like to meet some."
An explanation occurred to the wizard. "Ah," he said. "You've come to hire mercenaries ('warriors who fight for the tribe with most milknut meal')?"
"Oh no. I just want to meet them. So that when I get home I can say that I did it."
Rincewind thought that a meeting with most of the Drum's clientele would mean that Twoflower never went home again, unless he lived downriver and happened to float past.
***
"A subject of the Emperor appears to have taken it into his head to visit our city. It appears he wishes to look at it. Only a madman would possibly undergo all the privations of crossing the Turnwise Ocean in order to merely look at anything. However."
***
"It's a device for making pictures quickly," said Twoflower. "Quite a new invention. I'm rather proud of it but, look, I don't think these gentlemen would--well, I mean they might be--sort of apprehensive? Could you explain it to them? I'll reimburse them for their time, of course."
"He's got a box with a demon in it that draws pictures," said Rincewind shortly. "Do what the madman says and he will give you gold."
The Watch smiled nervously.
***
"Well, if you must know, I thought he didn't mean magic. Not as such."
"What else is there, then?"
Rincewind began to feel really wretched. "I don't know," he said. "A better way of doing things, I suppose. Something with a bit of sense in it. Harnessing--harnessing the lightning, or something."
The imp gave him a kind but pitying look.
"Lightning is the spears hurled by the thunder giants when they fight," it said gently. "Established meteorological fact. You can't harness it."
"I know," said Rincewind miserably.
***
It was all very well going on about pure logic and how the universe was ruled by logic and the harmony of numbers, but the plain fact of the matter was that the Disc was manifestly traversing space on the back of a giant turtle and the gods had a habit of going around to atheists' houses and smashing their windows.
***
The demon coughed nervously (demons do not breathe; however, every intelligent being, whether it breathes or not, coughs nervously at some point in its life. And this was one of them as far as the demon was concerned).
***
Rincewind relaxed slightly, which was to say that he still made a violin string look like a bowl of jelly.
***
Rincewind tried to shut his ears tot he grating voice beside him. It was no use.
"--and then I belonged to the Pasha of Re'durat and played a prominent part in the battle of the Great Nef, which is where I received the slight nick you may have noticed some two-thirds of the way up my blade," Kring was saying from its temporary home in a tussock. "Some infidel was wearing an octiron collar, most unsporting, and of course I was a lot sharper in those days and my master used to use me to cut silk handkerchiefs in midair and--am I boring you?"
***
"Sometimes I think a man could wander across the Disc all his life and not see everything there is to see," said Twoflower. "And now it seems there are lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see it makes me feel," he paused, then added, "well, humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course." (hide spoiler)]
I want to embark on an chronological Discworld in memoriam reread, but for now I started by revisiting The Fifth Elephant for Reasons. Gosh, I love thI want to embark on an chronological Discworld in memoriam reread, but for now I started by revisiting The Fifth Elephant for Reasons. Gosh, I love this book: diplomacy and spycraft set in an old Germanic continent, in which the Gothic runs rife, the forests are deep and dark and dangerous, and there are supernatural beasties around every corner. (The races to get home before sunset being a fun Uberwaldean hobby is just the cutest.)
What struck me the most about rereading this book is that while it delivers a super fun and enjoyable plot with memorable characters, a really vivid setting, and a perfect lampooning of Gothic/horror stereotypes, Terry Pratchett's values are also interwoven throughout. The story involves sexism and feminism and SMASHING THE PATRIARCHY, open-mindedness and acceptance, mixed-race and adoptive and expatriate cultural issues, slow social change and moving with the times, the advancement of technology and its effects, the dangers of conservatism & racism, definite overtones of Nazism and their quest for racial purity -- meanwhile featuring good, solid people with good values who fight for each other and who stand up for what's right, even down to the very small stories, like being a Good Dog. I love the big political backdrop as much as I love the relationship struggles between Carrot and Angua, the hints of Vetinari and Margolotta (I SHIP IT LIKE BURNING), Vimes and Sybil and their adorable domesticity and his growth, all set against a locked-room mystery.
Everyone is moving with the times, dragged kicking and screaming into the century of the fruitbat, from teetotaller vampires to rebellious Igors with Modern Scientific Ideas, to dwarf feminists, to the clacks towers blazing a trail across the continent and shrinking the world. This book is about setting aside old and dangerous conservatism while still staying true to your cultural roots and traditions -- to the thing, and the whole of the thing.
Plus, Uberwald is one of my favourite settings anywhere, and I'm super into werewolves so the fact that they're the main villains of the piece delights me. I'm so into the von Uberwalds, you guys, they are so freakin' great. I think this book is one of my favourites of the series....more
3.5 stars, rounded down. Which might be a little blasphemous! It's interesting revisiting the entire series in chronological order from beginning to e3.5 stars, rounded down. Which might be a little blasphemous! It's interesting revisiting the entire series in chronological order from beginning to end, because I had this memory of Reaper Man as being absolutely astounding -- and its reputation certainly says so -- but I found myself underwhelmed this time around.
The Bill Door sections are exquisite. Absolutely perfect, five stars. Melancholy and wistful and philosophical and feelsy, as Death vacates his position and learns what it's like to be human, to live on limited time, to wring the best out of life, and as he develops a touching relationship with an old farmwoman. And we also have the birth of the Death of Rats (who is such a wonderful sidekick in the series as a whole, so I forgot that he didn't always exist). His realisation of why his job matters; why the personal touch matters. There are sequences that honestly brought tears to my eyes:
LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?
The other two thirds of the book, though...? The Fresh Start Club was fun (Reg Shoe!), and I like that the wizards' personalities are starting to solidify (and we now see the fraying threads of the Bursar's sanity, too), but I just wasn't into the entire plotline with the city eggs. I prefer it when the Discworld develops its own technology and satirical analogues for real-life things, but the modern world getting dropped wholesale and unchanged into Ankh-Morpork isn't as compelling.
If it had all been Bill Door or with a stronger supporting plot it could have been 5 stars, but unfortunately the other half drags it down. Still very good, though....more
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