We have at least one copy of everything Sir Pterry ever wrote. At least one, because both Tanya and I were fans long before we met, and the libraries merged.

I discovered Discworld when The Colour of Magic hit paperback, back in ’85 or so. Been hooked since. Re-read the whole thing recently, it’s so obvious that while the author really wants to write parody, the Discworld keeps forcing him back into Being Serious.  And that’s the thing. While Discworld is light-hearted, the issues are serious. You can read right over all of that without skipping a beat, or you can take your time and realise that real issues are being addressed.

*Sigh* I guess we sort of expected him to be Cohen the Barbarian, so adept at surviving that nothing can kill him.

Alas.


2 Comments to “A sad day at the de Waal-Hubbard-Blake household”


  1. wrm — 2015-03-13 @ 11:11

    From MetaFi

    From a post in the reddit megapost on Pratchett. No attribution available:

    “I would like my pudding now nurse. And then I think I’d like to… write… something… I don’t remember what.”

    Standing in the corner, he waits. The sand slowly flows, but it nears it’s end. The old man still glows, as thousands of threads spread away from him.

    SQUEAK.

    I AGREE. IT IS A SHAME TO SEE HIM THIS WAY.

    SQUEAK.

    NO. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN…. BUT I CANNOT WAIT TO ASK HIM HOW IT ALL ENDS.

    The old man looks up, through them at first… and then he sees them. For once, the smile on the hooded figure’s skull is genuine.

    “I… I remember you. The anth… ant…”

    ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION.

    “Yes, that. We knew each other?”

    ONCE. AND WILL AGAIN, SIR.

    He so rarely said it, and these feelings… remembering his young aprentice, and beloved daughter. The beautiful child they have.

    “There… is a girl, yes?”

    SHE IS SPEAKING TO THE AUDITORS, SIR. THEY ARE UNWILLING TO LISTEN.

    “Well then. You know what they say, two things you cannot avoid. Taxes and…” He looks into the firey blue eyes, and becomes aware.

    SQUEAK.

    “Quite right. Is it time already? I have so much left to do.”

    YOU HAVE GIVEN ALL YOU CAN SIR.

    “No, not cancer. Alzheimers.”

    I AM AWARE.

    “So, where is the boy? I remember a boy.”

    CARRIAGE ACCIDENT.

    “Ahh. Never much trusted cars. Or horses.”

    THEY GET YOU WHERE YOU WANT TO GO.

    “Must I?”

    SOON. BUT WE MAY SIT HERE AWHILE.

    SQUEAK

    DO YOU HAVE ANY BISCUITS?

    “No. Shame really.”

    YES.

    “Is it truely turtles?”

    ALL THE WAY DOWN. I HAVE SEEN THEM.

    “Ahh. I would love to see it. Perhaps a small trip before?”

    IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE.

    “The light is slower there… and there’s a monkey….”

    ORANGUTAN. SAME PRINCIPLE.

    “Yes… will they remember me?”

    SQUEAK.

    “What was that? I could not hear you.”

    HE SAYS WE WILL, SIR.

    “I never much liked the trouble people had with you. You seem like a nice fellow.”

    I HAVE MY DAYS.

    “Don’t we all?”

    SOME LESS THAN OTHERS.

    “Is it quick?”

    YES. AND I BROUGHT THE SWORD. CEREMONY DICTATES IT.

    “Ahh. How about a cup of tea?”

    I WOULD ENJOY IT. DO YOU PLAY CHESS?

    “No. how about checkers?”

    And so they sat, two old friends regaling each other, though the old man could not remember all of the details, the cloaked man and his rat filled him in, when it was needed.

  2. wrm — 2015-03-13 @ 11:12

    Terry Pratchett was fantasy fiction’s Kurt Vonnegut, not its Douglas Adams — William Hughes

    http://www.avclub.com/article/terry-pratchett-was-fantasy-fictions-kurt-vonnegut-216514?utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=feeds



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