Terry Pratchett

Discworld — (1983-2010) Discworld is a satirical fantasy world created by Terry Pratchett to poke fun at 1980s fantasy novels. Since then, they've evolved so that they now make fun of everything. Mr. Pratchett explains Discworld: "The world rides through space on the back of a turtle. This is one of the great ancient world myths, found wherever men and turtles are gathered together; the four elephants were an indo-European sophistication. The idea has been lying in the lumber room of legend for centuries. All I had to do was grab it and run away before the alarms went off ... 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 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." The Discworld novels are presented here in publication order. To read more about the Discworld “arcs” and reading order, see this Wikipedia article.

Discworld for Kids:

Forthcoming: I Shall Wear Midnight

The Truth

Whenever I am down in the dumps, I turn to Terry Pratchett to make me feel better. He takes a genre of literature I love, turns it on its head, wordsmiths it a bit, and out pops a satire on modern culture. It’s amazing to watch.

The Truth is one of his funnier books. Of course, the truth, as we all know, is a tricky thing and when the newspaper is invented in the city of Ankh-Morpork the truth is twisted even further. After all, "Most of what you get taught is lies. It has to be. Sometimes if you get the truth all at once, you can't understand it."

William de Worde is content publishing his little newsletters for the wealthy. But when the printing press is brought to Ankh-Morpork, he finds himself at the helm of the Discworld’s first newspaper. De Worde then finds that a reporter’s job is much like a policeman's, only rather than being accountable to the government, the reporter is accountable to the public and all its strange appetites (and is paid rather less).

Pratchett uses a simple mystery set in a fantasy world to deftly weave a satire on journalism. The Truth is a summer beach reader’s dream: You get a good story, clever wordplay, lots of action, and strangely shaped vegetables. The book is not overlong, is written in short vignettes that allow you to get up and cool off in the water without stopping in the middle of an important part.

The book is lighthearted and winsome. Pratchett’s talent for simile and metaphor, and the odd use of the footnote combine to create a novel that speaks essential truths about the nature of humanity, the culture it has created, and the hilarity of it all.

Pratchett relies on the inherent funniness of similar words or word sounds, creative description, and fast-pace wording to deliver the full punch of his jokes. But, Discworld is for adults. Teens may enjoy the story as an adventure, but The Truth has more adult humor and language so the conservative reader may not want their children to read it.

Terry Pratchett should be required reading for fantasy fans. —J.O.   Comments
FanLit thanks John Ottinger III from Grasping for the Wind for contributing this guest review.

The Last Hero

Note: Terry Pratchett's The Last Hero works without the illustrations, but you don’t want to miss out on Paul Kidby's fabulous Discworld art.

The Last Hero follows the trail of several popular Discworld characters and this is the closest you'll get to a world-spanning crossover. There's no real villain in the story — simply lots of good guys working on opposite ends.

As typical of a Discworld novel, Pratchett pokes fun at the convention of fantasy and what makes a hero a hero. Comedy aside though, the book contains depth and, at the end of all this, the one thing I can promise you is that at least one character comes out of it more mature. Terry Pratchett shows us that comedy and fun doesn't mean that a story can't be meaningful or deep. —C.T.   Comments   
FanLit thanks Charles Tan from Bibliophile Stalker for contributing this guest review.

Thud!

Finally the origins of Koom Valley are explained. Commander Vimes of the City Watch, and Duke of Ankh-Morpork, is desperatly trying to solve the mystery of one dead dwarf. And who is Mr. Shine? What does he have to do with the death of Grag Hamcrusher? And what, oh what, is he to do about the vampire in the watch? Commader Vimes solves the crime in his usual no-nonsense, magic-is-not-part-of-crime-solving, politics-is-for-politicians-not-coppers way.

Terry Pratchett has once again created a hilarious story with twists and turns and answers no one would have dreamed. If you are not a Dsicworld fan, you will become one once you read this book. —J.O.   Comments
FanLit thanks John Ottinger III from Grasping for the Wind for contributing this guest review.

Making Money

This review is for Making Money, but you can pretty much substitute it for any other Terry Pratchett novel. I’ve actually bought some of them twice, because they are so similar that it wasn’t until I’d read the first chapter or so that I realised that I had already read that actual novel before and not just one very much like it.

Terry Pratchett’s writing style can probably be best compared to clowns at a circus. If you’ve ever seen a clown car drive into the ring and spill a dozen clowns out who then run around, all doing different crazy things at the same time, then you’ve had a taste of the Discworld novels. They are most definitely of the theatre of the absurd. And, like any frenetic attempt at humour, sometimes the humour succeeds and sometimes it trips over its feet and crashes heavily to the ground. This tends to vary a bit from book to book, but every book has its moments where I smile at the twists and turns or groan and wish he’d stop trying so hard to be funny and just get on with the story.

The fun is in the phrasing, more often than not. It’s no great height of wit by any means, but for light entertainment it’s one of the better finds in the fantasy genre (ok, one of the only finds). The lows are most often in the plot. Sometimes there are inconsistencies where, for example, a character needs to speak through an interpreter in the first few pages, but a chapter later speaks the language fluently himself, without any learning in between. Other times Pratchett just launches out into forced twists that, not only are they predictable once you’ve read one or two of his books, but they really don’t serve any point in the end. Most of the time they revolve around opposites of character. So if you have a serious person, they’ll end up being outrageously humourous; an attractive waif-like girl will be incredibly adept at violence; and so on. Like I said, it has a colour-by-numbers feel to the plot devices. Also, if you haven’t guessed, subtlety is not a Pratchett hallmark, which is quite out of character for English humour.

So what do these books have going for them? Well, they’re not bad for unwinding and relaxing without having to invest a great deal of attention to. If you want books that are light and occasionally fun, then these should fit the bill. Here’s a small sample of the dialogue (with the Igor character’s lisp intact):

‘I’m an Igor, thur. We don’t athk quethtionth.’
‘Really? Why not?’
‘I don’t know, thur. I didn’t athk.’

So there, in that small sample, is probably your divining rod for whether or not you will enjoy Pratchett’s books. Oh, the plots aren’t bad — there are some interesting and even clever ideas — but if that snippet of conversation annoyed you then you’ll hate the rest of the books. They are not filled with this, of course. Not every line is like that. However, it was a high point. It’s a sort of verbal slapstick in the style of perhaps Marty Feldman or the Marx Brothers (I’m being generous).

Making Money is definitely one of his better books and you could read this one first to get an idea of his style. The books contain overlapping characters (the old ones are replaced every few books), but the later ones all stand alone quite happily without needing a reference point from his earlier works.

I give this three stars and concede that high art it ain’t; but it’s not so bad when you want something to help you forget about your day at the office.  —Mark   Comments

Unseen Academicals

Many Terry Pratchett fans will tell you that his DISCWORLD novels are really social satire masquerading as fantasy. With the more recent installments, this has become even more apparent, as they have often taken on a very specific subject or theme. The Truth: Terry Pratchett about journalism. Making Money: banking. Going Postal: well... the postal service. The most recent addition to the series, Unseen Academicals, is another example of this, as it takes on sports, with a minor focus on the fashion industry.

In Ankh-Morpork, the slightly grubby and always fascinating metropolis that's the setting for many DISCWORLD novels, the ancient sport of foot-the-ball is not just the main entertainment of the working classes, it's practically a way of life. Every neighborhood has its own team, rivalries are long-lived and vicious, and wearing your team's colors is practically a must for safe passage through certain areas. The sport combines aspects of current-day soccer (or football, for our non-US readers) with rugby and, well, more or less full-scale warfare, and is such a big deal to Ankh-Morporkians that it's almost incomprehensible that we haven't heard much about it in earlier books in the series.

Meanwhile in Unseen University, the city's main college of magic, Ponder Stibbons (the most organized and bright wizard of the bunch) has added yet another task to his already huge agenda: he has become the Master of the Traditions, making sure the eternally squabbling group of wizards, between their nine square meals a day and their non-existent lectures, stay in touch with the illustrious history and rituals of their institution. Stibbons discovers that a good part of the university's endowment depends on an ancient donator's requirement: the faculty must field a foot-the-ball team. It suddenly becomes vitally important for the wizards to learn and play the game, because if not, roughly 84% of their food budget may be cut...

A separate story, which in the best Terry Pratchett fashion eventually links up with the main plot, focuses on two young women working in the University's Night Kitchen. Glenda, who runs the kitchen, keeps a watchful eye over her friend Juliet, a gorgeous but slightly empty-headed girl who is fascinated with fashion. Juliet becomes, more or less by accident, Ankh-Morpork's first supermodel, while Glenda slowly discovers more about one of the University's professional candle dribblers, Mr. Nutt, who is a mysterious and extremely intelligent... goblin?

Unseen Academicals is a decent addition to the DISCWORLD series. On the plus side, I definitely enjoyed the focus on the Unseen University wizards, as well as my favorite overall character of the series, Havelock Vetinari, the benevolent dictator of Ankh-Morpork. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments when the wizards are center stage, and lots of incisive snarkiness from the Patrician. Mr. Nutt is a fascinating character and probably the best part of this novel — and I hope we’ll encounter him in the future. On the negative side, plot-wise this is one of the weaker books in the series. Especially the fashion sub-plot is very thin, and its connection with the main story just didn't work for me.

After more than 35 novels in the series, reading a new DISCWORLD novel feels like visiting an old friend. It's pleasantly familiar, meets certain expectations, and doesn't pose any challenges. It's the literary equivalent of comfort food. Because of this, Unseen Academicals will probably please many fans, but as much as it pains me to say it, I'd consider it one of the weaker novels in an otherwise excellent series, and definitely a far cry from the brilliance of some of the earlier DISCWORLD books. —Stefan   Comments

The Wee Free Men: They won't be fooled again! (Er, the Nac Mac Feegle that is)

Terry Pratchett is one of the funniest writers alive. Who else could leave their readers laughing so hard that their guts are spilling out of their sides over the actions of a piece of luggage? (Earlier Discworld novel.)

It's been many years since I've read a Discworld novel, and I'm disappointed that I allowed so much time to elapse. I thought that Pratchett, like Piers Anthony, would have lost the freshness of his work. Boy was I wrong. As he did many years ago, Pratchett has told an engaging, interesting story, and filled it with sensational humor.

The story, centers around nine year old Tiffany, a "witch-to-be." Another world is colliding with hers, and all of the monsters are coming back. A witch from yet a different world is concerned that Tiffany can't handle the defense herself, and leaves to get help. But Tiffany is headstrong (a good quality for a witch) and insists on defending HER world on HER terms.

She also has the help of the Nac Mac Feegle — otherwise known as The Wee Free Men, blue skinned leprechaun-like fairy creatures whose priorities are stealing, drinking, and fighting — not necessarily in that order, and they're more than happy to have a good row to determine the order. They stand roughly six inches tall, but are so strong that trolls (we assume here that a troll is much, much larger than a Nac Mac Feegle) run away from them. There is only one thing they fear: lawyers.

As usual, Pratchett is a satirist here, and he spoofs what are becoming clichés in the post-Harry Potter world. His observations on that account are both funny and enlightening, without being insulting.

The ending seems to be a "homage-montage" of sorts, offering nods to Alice in Wonderland, The Chronicles of Amber, and other works. Tiffany finds herself beset with challenges that the brute strength of the Nac Mac Feegle can't solve, so she must struggle and face them with what she possesses most: common sense.

I have only one problem with this novel, and it is that there isn't a nine year old girl alive that's capable of what Tiffany is capable of — and that's no insult to nine year old girls, believe me! I wonder if, perhaps, Pratchett should have assigned her age at thirteen or fourteen — but even then I'm hard pressed to accept her remarkable resiliency and maturity under pressure.

But that's the only problem. It's an ingenious book, from beginning to end, and will entertain several different lobes of your brain at once — something most of Pratchett's books do quite well.
—Todd   Comments