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In Praise of Terry Pratchett

Ready to have another literary god praised to the sky?  I hope so…

So, odds are that, if it wasn’t for Terry Pratchett, I wouldn’t have started reading fantasy books.  When I was 10 years old, my Dad, who at the time worked as a publisher, came home one day with a copy of The Colour of Magic, the first in the Discworld series of novels, tucked under his arm and a cry of, ‘give this a go [nickname that shall not be repeated] and see if you enjoy’!

And, having not much else to do, I did.

I devoured The Colour of Magic, and had to go the very next day to the library to get The Light Fantastic and joy of joys, discover when I did that there were more discworld novels just waiting to be read!  Since then I have read every single novel, discworld or other, that Terry Pratchett has produced, and loved every second.  And not only are they all brilliant reads on their own right or as part of a series, but if anything, he’s been getting better.  Everyone who’s ever read the discworld novels will have the conversation of ‘who’s your favourite character?’  Is it Rincewind, the cowardly wizard with about as much magical talent as a carrot, who somehow survives despite everything and is constantly frustrated in his attempts to not be saviour of civilization?  Is it Granny Weatherwax, the old witch who is always right despite everything and does what has to be done?  What about Death, who spends so much of his time attempting to understand the mysteries of humanity, eating fried breakfast and learning to play cards?  The Patrician of Ankh Morpork, a city of guilds, wizards, intrigues, speeding fines, dodgy street food, dodgier sanitation, tabloid journalism and a post office run by a man with unusual fashion sense?  Vimes, copper through and through who seems to find himself constantly being promoted despite his best efforts?  Are you interested in tales of gods and their schemes, in crime and thrillers, in vampires and why they always carry a dustpan and brush, in the legal rights of zombies or the trouble with going to the klickies?  The discworld contains all these things – over the years, this series of books really has become the embodiment of the phrase ‘he made a world on the page’.

And it’s funny.

It’s really really funny.  I mean, it’s a whole load of other stuff too; Pratchett tells the kind of story that makes you forget that you’re looking at words on a page and turning bits of brownish paper with black ink marks on them.  On a slightly more serious note, he has also been in the news recently, after being diagnosed with Alzheimers, which is, lets face it, a crappy trick for the universe to pull on any man, let alone one as brilliantly talented as Pratchett.  What this means for the future, I have no idea, but I for one will be first into the bookshop whenever he puts pen to paper, and even if that slows down, there is still a whole world of books – several worlds, in fact – sitting on pride of place on my bookshelf, ready to entertain and exhilarate whenever the technical rehearsals get long or the tube runs slow.