Dodger

Dodger
by Terry Pratchett

Pratchett's 50th novel, Dodger, is set not in the fantastical Discworld but in Victorian London with its nobs and downtrodden, heroines and villains, not to mention Benjamin Disraeli (PM of GB), Sir Joseph Bazalgette (Sewer Network Engineer), Henry Mayhew (social researcher and co-founder of Punch magazine), Sir Robert Peel (Metropolitan Police), and Charles Dickens himself.

The story is rather straightforward and predictable - young Dodger,a street urchin, can do no wrong despite living in the slums, orphaned, and resorting to thieving, and finally settling for rummaging in the sewers for 'lost' objects of value. He has the necessary skills to survive, has the beautiful heart to be generous, plus has a mandatory mentor who shares his living quarters with his dog Onan and the enigmatic Dodger . (If the dog's name is curious, the author urges us to 'google it').

Young Ms. Simplicity escapes from a loveless and abusive marriage to a rich and powerful European but is tracked and beaten up in London, somewhere near Dodger's usual haunt. Gallant and quick as he is, he saves the lady, who is then escorted by Henry Mayhew to his own home where his wife cares for such 'cases'.

Dodger grows very fond of Ms.Simplicity, who reciprocates in kind. Ms. Simplicity is not just any girl, a runaway - politics is involved, wars can start if she is not returned to her lawful husband. But, is it right to send her back to die?

Enter 'Charlie' Charles Dickens, with whose help Dodger quickly climbs up the social ladder, thanks to Ms. Burdett-Coutts and the right concatenation of events. It seems Dodger is favored by The Lady (of the Sewers) as well.

After a slightly tough start (for me, reading-wise), Pratchett's characteristic wit takes over and the story unfolds with the usual humor and twists that make it such a pleasure. The confusing contradictions of the Victorian England - women's place in society, the class distinction, the tenuous relationships between countries... all make for an interesting backdrop for the story.

Solomon, Dodger's mentor and landlord, is full of wisdom, dropping gems at the right moment, hinting at his exotic and checkered past just enough to preserve the air of mystery.

All's well that ends well. Boy gets the girl, villains are thwarted and justice prevails, sort of.

[image source: http://terrypratchett.co.uk/index.php/us/books/dodger]

Snuff

Snuff
by Terry Pratchett


I admire Terry Pratchett not just for the side-splittingly funny story-telling he consistently offers but also for his thoughtful and deep social observations and commentaries.

While typically billed for Young Adult, I doubt if many of his books (Small Gods, Carpe Jugulum, Night Watch, Monstrous Regiment, The Truth, Thud!, Thief of Time, to name a few) would be fully appreciated by the tender minds as yet inexperienced and therefore potentially unaware of the significance and overtones of the narration.

As Siddhartha said, Knowledge can be communicated but Wisdom cannot. And sometimes, with age (and experience) comes wisdom, which allows for a greater appreciation of Pratchett's insightful genius.

All right, enough with the expounding, on with the book at hand...

Snuff is a Commander Vimes mystery. That's it in a nutshell, but, that hardly does justice to the 400-odd pages of sheer adventure.

Of the many wonderful characters who grace the Discworld, Commander Vimes grew in stature with the many books, from a lowly copper in the Night Watch to Captain to now the Commander of the bulging Watch, not to mention being His Grace the Duke of Ankh-Morpork.

Snuff addresses the social issue of racial discrimination head-on, albeit in its inimitable parallel world which is no different from the world we live in, except of course for the flatness of the Disc and the elephants carrying it riding on the giant turtle, the Great A'Tuin, and suchlike.

Goblins have never been admired much in literature so far, tending to be depicted as lowly, filthy, scums, probably sharp and cunning, but not the ones you want to acknowledge the existence of, let alone befriend or even associate with.

In Snuff, Pratchett introduces us to goblins in much the same way - rather unappealing to look at, with the strange habit of collecting their bodily fluids in a pot and carrying it around with them at all times. Shunned by 'normal' folks, driven to live in hiding, with a status way below wretched animals in their society, goblins do not elicit much from us but disgust at the beginning.

As the story unfolds, so does Pratchett's propensity for peeling the layers of filters we wear to deny such sights that should morally disturb us.

We end up championing for the goblins, one of whom is inducted into the Watch, and all of whom seem to come across with some innate quality worth recognizing, if not appreciating.

There are several elements to this story which all come together in the end, beautifully as always:
Lady Sybill's impressive influence on His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes' life;
the delicate dance of marriage; the sense of duty that Vimes cannot seem to shut off;
the dynamics of fatherhood (young master Sam Vimes' interest in bowel movements of living creatures might be a tad uncomfortable for some, but, with two young ones myself who get excited finding dog poo during our walks I did catch myself smiling inwardly at the masterly touch);
the complexities of the hierarchical society; the (in)cohesiveness of the Watch at times;
Vimes' brilliant detective work and his ability to think on his feet;
oh, and as the title suggests, there is 'snuff' involved, of the tobacco kind that is entangled in a smuggling racket...

Plot thickens, as they say, and events concatenate to a very satisfying climax.

One of the more serious and dark books of Pratchett, Snuff is probably not for the early teenager. It is a fast-paced read which does tend to meander at times.

While it might seem like a simple murder mystery with a few intertwined criminal threads, Snuff is much more than just that.

[An interview with Terry Pratchett by Neil Gaiman at Amazon.com]

[image source: terrypratchett.co.uk]

I Shall Wear Midnight

I Shall Wear Midnight
by Terry Pratchett

After Wee Free Men, A Hat Full of Sky, and Wintersmith, we meet Tiffany Aching yet again as a 16 year old practicing witch, doing the needful for the needy, nothing glamorous, nothing fanciful, just back-breaking work that touches people's lives in a way that only witches care to do. She is the hag o' the hills. Chalk's very own witch.

But then, witches are suddenly becoming unpopular. Not that they were popular to begin with - they were ignored and perhaps feared, but they were duly acknowledged and accepted, they were respected. Not anymore. A whisper, a thought, a feeling rears up and the witches are condemned and scorned, hated and hunted.


Traditionally witches wore black. Tiffany preferred green. They also wore pointy hats. Tiffany was going to make her own hat. The title refers to something Tiffany says in A Hat Full of Sky, ""When I'm old I shall wear midnight, she'd decided. But for now she'd had enough of darkness." 


I was terribly torn as I read the book - none of the usual buoyant humor and witty social commentary that I've come to love Pratchett for. This book is dark with a rather meandering story arc, with some unappealing and one-dimensional characters. 


The brilliance of Pratchett's writing, his ability to string the words into a perfectly fabricated sentence that delivers the punch while being side-splitting-ly funny and instructive, is what I treasure more than just the plot and the characters and the clever narration. 


I Shall Wear Midnight is sadly not one of those books that I shall treasure for the sheer joy of reading. And it breaks my heart to admit it, because, clearly, Pratchett is losing his battle with early-onset Alzheimer's and the world is losing a genius. 


But then Pratchett's worst is still better than others' best. And this is not a book to be tossed aside lightly. Pratchett's keen observation and understanding of human workings comes through in piercing depth.


It was painful to start the book reading in detail about domestic violence and child abuse and murder and the ferocity of the lynch-mob and the poison of rumors and hatred. 


The characters were difficult to empathize or identify with. The Pettys, Letitia, the Duchess, Derek, even the eyeless villain, Cunning Man, were all rather distasteful, no redeeming features. Unfortunately, even my favorite Feegles suffer from this treatment - the impish, fiercely loyal, funny and riotous Feegles turn rather insufferable at times in this narration. 


The Watch meets Mistress Weatherwax meets Tiffany Aching story has so many possibilities. But, this book did not explore or present much in terms of appreciating the combination.


Having gotten that out of my chest, I must add that there are layers of subtle commentaries on relationships and machinations of the world that are quite thought-provoking. While Tiffany's relationship with Roland ("we're good friends") is much talked about in Chalk, that romantic aspect is incidental to the story, yet masterfully explored. What do people expect of their witch?

Tiffany is not a normal teenager. But then, which teenager is really normal? Which teenager, witch or otherwise, doesn't wonder, Will anyone understand me? Will they know what I go through? Will they always treat me like an outsider? Will they not realize I am human?

I was able to finish this book in a day, thanks to July 4th holiday, but the book was not an easy read.

All's well that ends well. How Tiffany beats Cunning Man seems rather hastily stitched together, just to get it out of the way and done with. Tiffany advocates for social progress with a new school and maybe a medic for the village and so on, very noble, very thoughtful... and the new Baron, her good friend Roland, does indulge her wishes very kindly.


[image source: terrypratchett.co.uk]

Wintersmith

Wintersmith
by Terry Pratchett

The third book in the Tiffany Aching series, Wintersmith is a delightful read, as always, narrating the story of what happened when almost-13-year-old Tiffany felt the urge to dance.

 Not any old dance, not an ordinary girlish frolic, easily indulged and without much consequence, with a village friend. No. She steps into the Summer Lady's spot where the Wintersmith has tangoed with her for eternity in the Dance of the Seasons.

I met Tiffany in Wee Free Men. At 9, she didn't like not being the youngest and didn't like having to babysit her brother, but, willingly  stepped into Fairyland armed with a frying pan to retrieve her brother from the Queen of the Fairies.

At 11, in A Hat Full of Sky, Tiffany's entry into witch-hood (witchdom?) was quite dramatic, thanks to the hiver that takes over her as it had taken over thousands before, only to destroy them in the end. Tiffany's successful apprenticeship and return to Chalk, her home, etched her in my mind.

And now, at 13, she has done it again. Only, she didn't know what she had done. Or how to undo it. Can Granny Weatherwax and the Nac Mac Feegles help her out once again before the world freezes over?

It is no secret that I keep going back to Pratchett's books for his writing. Out of context, and randomly quoted, his words may seem just bits of frivolous indulgence, possibly funny but not all that deep. However, when taken in with his wisdom and commentary on human nature, his words simply stagger my mind. I wonder, did he just set out to write that sentence as it is and just type it out? Or did he write down the idea, scratch and polish over time to get that perfectly shining sentence conveying exactly what it does at face-value but much more as the mind unfolds it in its unique way?


The summary of Wintersmith is simple: Tiffany makes the mistake of dancing with the Wintersmith who mistakes her for the Lady of Summer and is immediately smitten with her. He follows her with his iciness and freezes the world for her to be his. But when the wee lambs are dying of cold and the world feels doomed to chillness forever, Tiffany manages to take charge. She finds a way to reunite the Summer Lady and the Wintersmith and bring Spring back to the world. 


Tiffany, like any 13-year old, initially loves the attention from the Wintersmith, but her Third Thoughts tell her it is not right. Her Second Thoughts wonder why she likes the attention. Her First Sight sees little Tiffanys in the snowflakes and wonders if that is the worst thing that can happen to embarrass her. 


And what about Roland? Sure, she incidentally rescued him from the Queen of Fairies when she got her brother back, but, is he as dense as she had assumed? Does he hold a torch for her? If so, does she care? And if she does, will she do anything about it? Other than curtsy and make him nervous? 


We learn a lot more about Tiffany, the Feegles, their Kelda Jeannie, and the sorority of witches and how they keep a watch on each other. 


Rob Anybody, with Daft Wullie and the Feegles, are irrepressible and rather adorable. The Scots conversations are a treat to read, the characters forming clearly even as they are clumped together as a clan of little blue men who love to steal and drink and fight. 


Just because the protagonist is a young adult, the book itself is not just for the Young Adult. In fact, there are very few Pratchett books that I think the young adult would experience at a depth that age/experience/wisdom allows.
[image source: terrypratchett.co.uk]

A Hat Full of Sky

A Hat Full of Sky
by Terry Pratchett

The second in the Tiffany Aching adventure, following The Wee Free Men, A Hat Full of Sky showcases this plucky young 11-year-old heroine's mettle as she embarks on her apprenticeship in magic.

Tiffany is a hard name for a witch to live down. But, in ancient tongue it also means Land Under Wave, something hard to live up to. But, Tiffany is up for it.

The Hiver, at once terrifying and curious, is a creature with no body, no real mind, but just a sort of parasite that holds the echoes of the memories it has taken over since before time began. The hiver seeks power more for its sustenance, for its existence at some level, than for some grand end. So, the hiver naturally finds Tiffany, a powerful young witch who does not know quite how powerful she is and why.

With Granny Weatherwax's and the Nac Mac Feegles' support, it would seem like Tiffany is well-armed, but, she must face the hiver alone, in her mind. And it will take all of her resource and courage to deal with it, perhaps more.

What struck me about this book is the pre-teen Tiffany's bundle of emotions portrayed expertly by the author, once again establishing his mastery over not just the nuances of the language but of the human emotions and social entanglements.

Arriving at Miss. Level's cottage, naive yet determined, Tiffany was most certainly not ready for the double Miss Levels - two bodies with one mind, but not in the traditional "twins" way. But she takes it in her stride and manages quite well despite the invisible neat-freak Oswald tidying up after her even before she is done messing up her room.

She has no friends yet; she is far away from Chalk, her home; she does not know what the apprenticeship involves; she hopes it will be all about learning to be a witch but is slowly finding out that it might not be all about the conventional abracadabra magic but of the more subtle sort; she is quick to form opinions but quick to change them when reason demands it;  and she is certainly sure of herself, at least until the hiver takes over her.

Will she turn "evil" and start to cackle? Because we all know that a witch is only one step away from cackling if nobody is keeping an eye on her and she forgets the difference between right and wrong and no longer feels the need to be accountable for her decisions.

All's well that ends well, as always in Pratchett's wonderful Discworld tales. Tiffany manages to send the hiver away to a place it cannot return from. She earns the respect of fellow young witches and the greatest witch of all, Granny Weatherwax, who is one of the most intriguing and complex characters in the Discworld.

Tiffany learns a lot about herself, about witching, and about making her own hat. Granny Aching wore the wind for her coat and Tiffany will wear the sky for her hat. She may not be able to fly the broom without getting sick or make a shamble in a hurry (unless she really needs to), but, she can certainly open the door and show the departed the way into the next world, just like that.

Pratchett's genius always leaves me awed and inspired. His keen observation and accessible presentation, not to mention his flair of language and the side-splitting-ly funny narration makes his books a much-savored experience every time I read one.

[image source: terrypratchett.co.uk]

The Illustrated Wee Free Men

The Illustrated Wee Free Men
by Terry Pratchett
illustrated by Stephen Player

In this first book in the Tiffany Aching series, Pratchett packs it with his usual touches - unforgettable characters, out-of-the-world situations, romping adventure, brilliant wit, plus his inimitable humor and perspective on social issues.

The Illustrated Wee Free Men is quite a visual experience. Be it the full page pictures that sort of form the background for the text superimposed on it, or the wee little Feegles hanging precariously off a letter or quietly trying to make off with one along the edges, or the shadows and typography lending the ambiance, the illustrations complement the text superbly, neither interfering nor distracting but in perfect harmony with the images the words manage to paint in our heads.

Tiffany Aching of the Chalk is all of 9 years old, but very practical and efficient at carrying out her duties, blessed with keen observation and strong intuition, not to mention her cheese-making talents, who never misses an opportunity to do some extra learning on the side whenever she can spare the extra carrot or the egg - the fee for gaining knowledge from traveling teachers.

A girl cannot know enough, especially if she is a witch. She is not thrilled about babysitting her little brother Wentworth as much as she has to, but, she does it nonetheless. "He's a nuisance! He takes up my time and I'm always having to look after him and he always wants sweets."

But when her brother is stolen, she will not say Good Riddance and get on with her life. No. She will go to the end of the world, into the dream world, muster all the strength, determination, knowledge and courage she can to bring him back home safely.

Thankfully for Tiffany, she doesn't have to do it alone. The 6-inch tall, blue-skinned, red-haired, kilt-wearing, Scots speaking Nac Mac Feegles always keep an eye out for her, their Wee Big Hag.

"Crivens! Gang awa' oot o' here, ye daft wee hinny! 'Ware the green heid!... Nae time for fishin'!"

With Rob Anybody, their Big Man o' the clan, Daft Wullie, William the gonnagle, Hamish the aviator and a lot more weird ones, the Feegles are easily the at-once-simple-yet-richly-complex characters encountered in Pratchett's menagerie. They are pictsies (not pixies, oh no)  full of vigor and the fighting spirit, as well as the alcoholic spirits which they imbibe in copious amounts whenever they can, stealing anything not nailed down, tending to scream 'Crivens!' and 'Oh Waily! Waily! Waily!' a lot, fiercely protective of Tiffany yet terrified of her wrath, jumping headlong into unknown situations and coming out fine in the end... if we end up loving them in the end knowing what a nuisance they can be it is thanks to Pratchett.

What can I say about Granny Aching? Well, other than what the story reveals, of course? Almost all the matronly women authority figures in Pratchett's books are awesome, some more authoritarian while others rather quietly compelling. Granny Weatherwax is an all-time favorite of mine, but close on her heels is Nanny Ogg, and now the no-longer-with-us Granny Aching, Tiffany's grandma.

It is quite a wild ride when Tiffany sets out into the dream world where Wentworth is trapped. She not only manages to get back Wentworth but also rescues the Baron's son, Roland, who was decomposing there unbeknownst to him.

All's well that ends well. It is indeed something when one finishes the book but the book is not finished with one. I caught myself going back to it, flipping to favorite pages and relishing the experience. Of course, I do that with all of Pratchett's books.


Although it is a suggested Young Adult novel, the book is a wonderful read for older readers. This is another of Pratchett's books that I would love to have on my bookshelf to pass on to my kids when they are ready for it. 

[image source: amazon.com]

Unseen Academicals

Unseen Academicals
by Terry Pratchett

Take Football, Soccer if you will, although I prefer Football.

No, not the game per se. The insanity the game births and nurses and fosters.

That's the subject of Pratchett's genial attack in this 37th book in the Discworld Series.

Unseen Academicals are the wizards of the Unseen University (UU), led by none other than Mustrum Ridcully, (with the Librarian for their goalie), who have to win a football game playing by the rules (even if they make up the rules themselves) and using no magic. Else they lose a big chunk of endowment for the University. Or so Ponder Stibbons says.

When the Patrician himself takes an interest, and the ArchChancellor feels his afternoon chunk of cheese shuffling away forever, things need to be done.

Mr.Nutt is an enigma. He is an orc. The only living orc as far as people know. Or so the history books say. He is also the football coach for the Unseen Academicals. And a brilliant one at that. Strategies and authority come to him naturally despite his diminutive figure and shy nature.

Trev Likely and Juliet Stollop make a winsome pair. But, Glenda Sugarbean takes the cake. Or bakes the cake. Pies actually. Especially the Ploughman's Pie, complete with a special technique to keep the pickled onions crisp, which she invented herself. Glenda is the reigning queen of the Night Kitchen at UU.

Despite learning about his Alzheimer's, Pratchett spins a funny yarn that aptly reflects not only the football madness, but our own prejudices regarding creatures we fail to understand and appreciate simply because we fear it based on invented past...

Not my cup of tea - the topic, but, Pratchett always makes me laugh. And think. And does it in such a sophisticated and entertaining manner that inspires me.

[picture source: guardian.co.uk]

Men at Arms

Men at Arms
by Terry Pratchett

The gonne: A weapon that hides and kills from a distance, urging the holder to do its bidding, no mercy. Or is it?

Commander Vimes is one of my all-time favorite characters in the Discworld. With his all-too-human flaws and less-than-perfect life, he still has an unambiguous idea of right from wrong and manages to do the right thing at all costs. And, he can find his way around town in pitch dark by feeling the road under his feet through the cardboard thin soles of his boots.

Starting with Guards! Guards!, Samuel Vimes has grown from a drunken policeman to a decent Captain to a worthy Commander of the Watch. As the central character in Men At Arms, Feet of clay, Jingo, The Fifth Elephant, Night Watch, Thud!, and supporting character in The Truth and Monstrous Regiment, Vimes has grown from strength to strength to become quite a heavy-weight in the Discworld characters.

Speaking of the Watch, especially the Night Watch, Pratchett has managed to throw together a singularly odd bunch of characters starting with the charismatic Corporal Carrot (a 2-meter tall dwarf), Lance-Constable Angua (werewolf), Lance-Constable Detritus (troll), Sergeant Colon, Corporal Nobby Nobbs ('disqualified from the human race')... and the list expands in later books to include a vampire.... each one perfectly chiseled and absolutely unforgettable.

Anyway, Commander Vimes is now on the verge of retiring from policing for good and live the life of leisure as a gentleman, married to the upstanding and eccentric Lady Sybil who rescues and cares for abused dragons. Yes, dragons. Not necessarily the Draco Nobilis kind, of course. Just little swamp ones.

However, on his last day, he gets entangled in this criminal investigation which initially baffles all. It doesn't help that he runs into roadblocks trying to do his job.

Edward d'Eath (yes, Pratchett has a knack for names, like William de Worde in The Truth) is a languishing aristocrat seeking to restore the glory of monarchy. Sam Vimes, honest and blunt, loathes the very idea of royalty, and it doesn't help that his ancestor executed the last king ages ago.

An assassin, a clown, mysterious deaths, elusive weapon all add up to a good detective novel thanks to clever narration and a timeless plot. Especially with the masterly style that Pratchett employs to keep the identity of the gonne well-concealed until it betrays itself shamelessly, leaving us aghast, saying to ourselves: A-ha! so this is what was written on the piece of paper that was a clue several pages ago... and mad genius Leonard of Quirm didn't intend for it to be abused as such...

Gaspode the Wonder Dog we saw in Moving Pictures and The Truth makes a cameo in this as well.

Vimes being Vimes, he doggedly investigates and solves the mystery and things end well. Sort of. If only he can break this habit of running away from ceremonial parades that he is a significant part of...

Incredibly funny and brilliantly thought-provoking as always, Men At Arms is yet another Pratchett I reserve for comfort-reads.

The Truth

The Truth
by Terry Pratchett

Imagine a world without books, without printed matter. Of course, we can trace back the approximate point in history when the written word was passed along from manuscript to engraving to printing as we know it today.

What if we can step back in history somewhere around the time engraving was at its height and printing was unheard of? That is exactly where Pratchett takes us in The Truth.

Through his characteristic wit and humor, his incisive observation of human nature, and his ability to layer ideas combining history and fiction, Pratchett narrates the story of William de Word and his band of dwarf assistants who pioneered the Printing Press and the Newspaper.

An engraved page was an engraved page, complete and unique. But if you took the leaden letters that had previously been used to set the words of a god, and then used them to set a cookery book, what did that do to the holy wisdom? For that matter, what would it do to the pie? As for printing a book of spells, and then using the same type for a book of navigation – well, the voyage might go anywhere.

What is freedom of the press? We get a glimpse of this through the exchanges between William de Worde and Lord Vetinari, as well as through the candid discussions with Commander Vimes, not to mention the dogged determination of de Worde to simply write "the truth" (as he sees it), in his publication, "The Ankh-Morpork Times" (motto: The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret).

How and when did adding images to accompany the printed word come about? Otto Chriek can answer that. A reformed vampire, he has a some out-of-the-box ideas regarding photography, even if he has to explode into dust and re-materialize to implement his ideas every time.

The main plot might not allow for many surprises, but the story has its share of twists and turns and outrageous situations that lead to laugh-out-loud moments as well as A-ha! moments. As with most of Pratchett's books, a good dose of our own limitations and sociological inconsistencies are presented unobtrusively through the characters and their actions, albeit set in a parallel world.

One of the strengths of Pratchett's books, apart from magnificent writing and inimitable humor and wit, is the development of characters. I first encountered Gaspode in Moving Pictures (I've been reading Discworld novels out of order), and was immediately impressed with not only its potential but its brilliance.

I have unabashedly admitted to being a die-hard Pratchett fan several times here in my blog. Next to P.G.Wodehouse, Pratchett is my writing guru (even if parenthetically). It is a gift to string together mere words that are accessible to all, but in such a way as to leave the reader awe-struck at its shades and depths, all the while making them keel over laughing.

Having said that, if this were the first Pratchett book I picked up, I'd probably be amused and entertained but not agape and head-over-heels like I was with Mort or Small Gods or Monstrous Regiment.

A high-level conspiracy seeks to frame the Patrician, the de facto ruler of Ankh-Morpork, depose him, replace him with a puppet, and carry out their hidden agenda. Sounds familiar?! Well, de Worde, with the help of Gaspode (who remains the Anonymous Source) uncovers the "truth" and to his horror finds that it involves his own estranged arrogant and aristocratic father.

Should he expose his own father? What is the "greater good" in this case? Does the "public" really need to know "the whole truth"? Incidentally, who is "the public"?

Events unfold as they should and all's well that ends well, of course. But along the way, we laugh, we think, we hyperventilate, we scream, we nod vigorously, we cheer, we drop our jaw, we suspend disbelief, and we allow ourselves to be completely entertained and enlightened.

Pyramids

Pyramids
by Terry Pratchett

Pyramids is the seventh book in Pratchett's Discworld series, one of his early works, considering there are about three dozen books published so far.

Imagine an old kingdom, not much unlike Egypt, where time stands still because of... Pyramids. Yes, these imposing yet seemingly innocuous structures actually act as huge dams in the flow of time, accumulating and recycling it in the ancient desert kingdom of Djelibeybi.

Now, suppose that the four-dimensional space-time of the universe as we know it allows for the interchange of these dimensions - viz., length, width, height, time - and somehow, the pyramids manage to rotate the kingdom of Djel by 90° in space-time.

This premise, combined with our introduction to some of the most interesting characters like - the greatest mathematician (a camel named You Bastard) in the world, Dios the High Priest who really rules the kingdom, the Ephebians with Copolymer the greatest storyteller, as well as the inscrutable Sphinx - along with our hero Teppic who, at the threshold of assuming his crown yearns for some trade and enrolls in the Assassins Guild in Ankh-Morpork and successfully graduates to become one... all make for one entertaining read.

I must admit, this is not one of my favorite Pratchett books, having read many others that fall in the first category, as discussed in an earlier post. The narration has bright spots, but meanders and languishes a bit, making us wonder which way we are headed with all this.

My favorite part of the book, which I re-read at least half-a-dozen times, even made D read it, is the scene where Teppic encounters The Sphinx. It is side-splittingly hilarious thanks to the terribly logical reasoning that is explored there.

The book starts out beautifully... the narration about Teppic's Exam that he needs to pass to be certified by the Guild sets the heart racing, and foreshadows the chaotic events to unfold - esp., hinting at the grass growing under Teppic's feet mysteriously wherever he stepped. Briefly.

In the kingdom of Djel, gods are gods and men are men, except for the king who is both. (P)Teppic's father, Pteppicymon XXVII, who makes the sun rise and the winds blow, dies suddenly before he can decree that no pyramid should be built for his afterlife. Of course, even if he had managed the decree, Dios the High Priest would have interpreted it as the king's directive to build the biggest most imposing pyramid ever. Dios is like that. His insanity and delusion are far beyond the known spectrum.

If we come out of this liking You Bastard almost as much as, if not more than, Teppic, it is perfectly natural. The ghost king trying to dissuade the pyramid builder and watching his own body being embalmed reminded me a little of the king of Lancre who was murdered early on in Wyrd Sisters.

During his brief stint on the throne, Teppic does try to change the way things are done, hopefully for the better as he sees it, but, Dios appropriates every word out of Teppic's mouth and wraps it in diametrically opposing meaning that advances his own agenda.

Teppic eventually manages to box himself in a corner and has no way out except to fake his own death and flee. Thus starts a series of events that lead to a satisfactory ending to one and all.

Thud!

Thud!
by Terry Pratchett

Pratchett's early books, the first couple at least, were just a bit different, a bit off-beat, but, nothing as spectacular as the later ones which blow me away.

Pratchett sets his stories - most of them, if not all - in Discworld, and that possibly qualifies them as fantasy. But, his ability to take the real issues of our world, set them in a parallel world which is just off a few degrees from ours, and tear them down with thought-provoking humor and masterly storytelling makes him nothing short of genius.

Thud! is a Commander Vimes story. And it deals with rage and deep-seated hatred fostered over centuries, kept alive for so long that no one really remembers the facts or the reason for this intolerable animosity, between dwarves and trolls. Commander Vimes is determined to stop a repeat of Koom Valley, where, thousands of years ago, dwarves and trolls fought so fiercely that it seemed like the end of the world.

Thud is also a board game - not much unlike Chess - a game in which one has to learn to play both sides to master the strategic intricacies characteristic of Dwarf and Troll. A symbolic indulgence to remember the Battle of Koom Valley.

The threads of the plot, woven beautifully, are eclipsed only by Pratchett's power to string words together that balances satire and wisdom, creating characters both comical and vile, but, none that we can bring ourselves to dismiss or hate.

The peek into Vimes' fatherhood, the polarized factions of dwarves, the enigmatic Mr.Shine and thick-as-a-brick Brick, not to mention the tension between werewolf Sergeant Angua and newly inducted vampire Constable Salacia Delorisista Amanita Trigestrata Zeldana Malifee von Humpeding, Sally for short, and the inexplicable rancor that festers and bubbles between trolls and dwarves, all add up to an intense and profound read.

Early on in Guards!Guards!, when I encountered Vimes and his assorted bunch of Watchmen, little did I suspect of this phenomenal growth potential in the Night Watch. Enter Lady Sybil and Young Sam, and it opens up Vimes' hitherto unseen facets. Vimes is a hero. Not in the traditional flawless way, but, in a very human way which makes it even more meritorious - to be able to recognize one's limitations, find a way to surmount them to do what is right, despite staggering odds.

The introduction of the Summoning Dark, an ancient entity that materialized itself from elemental ooze at the beginning of the Universe, is pure Pratchett. A conceptual presence that is helpless without a creature, a being, to work through.

The italicized passages in which Pratchett explores and advances this Summoning Dark is pure ecstasy to read.

When, at the start of all things, the primordial clouds of mind had collapsed into gods and demons and souls of all levels, it had been among those who had never drifted close to a major accretion. So it had entered the universe aimlessly, without task or affiliation, a scrap of being blowing free, fitting wherever it could, a sort of complicated thought looking for the right kind of mind. Currently - that is to say, for the past ten thousand years, it had found work as a superstition.

It finds Captain Vimes of the Watch who, distraught and enraged by the mindless chaos in the city, is desperate to reestablish order, at whatever cost.

For a moment, just then, it had sensed an open door, a spasm of rage it could use. But just as it leapt to take advantage, something invisible and strong had grabbed it and flung it away.

Strange.

With a flick of its tail, it disappeared into an alley.

The roiling wrath that rears itself in Vimes is counterbalanced by his commitment to read Where's My Cow? to Young Sam every evening at six o'clock sharp, no excuses. And he does it with full gusto, adding the necessary sound effects, determined to entertain his infant, shutting out the ugliness of the world outside his son's nursery.

As usual, nothing is exempt from Pratchett's prod, and thus we are introduced to the Dis-Organizer Mark-Five, the Gooseberry™ (think Blackberry): a device inhabited by an imp which turns out useful eventually when Vimes gets over his aversion and inertia and his tendency to shut it off in mid-sentence as it starts to interact with him. He can't even bring himself to set it, so the Gooseberry imp has to greet him with "Good Morning, Insert Name Here!". Accidentally losing it, threatening it with a hammer, and other such ruse he attempts on and off, is his subtle way of dealing with the fact that Sybil always gets him another one and insists he keeps it handy in his pocket.

Pratchett's astute understanding of human nature, his keen sense of fitting plots and subplots with bordering-on-the-outrageous situations, along with his brilliant wordplay and sense of humor makes his books more than just fictional fantasy. And Thud! is no exception.

Moving Pictures

Moving Pictures
by Terry Pratchett

Although set in the Discworld, this is a fairly standalone book with very few recurring staple characters.

While not one of Pratchett's best, it has a few interesting breaks in an otherwise run-of-the-mill parody.

Of course, I love Pratchett! So, I did look for his Midas touch in this book. Perhaps that was my fault as I found very few.

However, the book has his special brand of poking fun at everyday things which forces us to stop and think anyway. And Pratchett on an off-day is much better than most other fantasy writers I have read, so, while it is entertaining none-the-less, it seems like one of those blockbusters that the editors forgot to snip and tighten.

During one of my chats with D (a fellow Pratchett fan), we realized that Pratchett's books we've read so far roughly fall into one of the three categories:

• Brilliant, Hilarious, Thought-provoking, Memorable Characters, Captivating - like, Small Gods, Monstrous Regiment, Mort, Thief of Time
• Good Parody, Funny, Curiously Interesting Take On Things, Very Satisfying - like, Guards! Guards!, Wyrd Sisters, Equal Rites, Carpe Jugulum
• Fairly Standard, Slightly Funny In Parts, If-this-were-the-first-book-i-read-i-probably-wouldn't-read-another-Pratchett - like, Moving Pictures, Colour of Magic, Feet of Clay

Moving Pictures is Pratchett's take on... yes, Motion Pictures and Hollywood :)

Gaspode, the Wonder Dog was an interesting character. Other than that, the book generally meanders about the Hollywood culture, how it came into being, how it became what it has become, how people get ahead in such a culture and so on...

In addition to innocent victims of circumstances like the heroine and the hero of the movies which turn into blockbusters, we have CMOT (Cut Me Own Throat) Dibbler and suchlike who know how to work the system to their advantage and essentially pioneer the direction in which things flow.

We also get to know about the intimate connection between Banged Grains (aka Popcorn) and movie-viewing, about the magic of silver screen that the alchemists accidentally discover (unbeknownst to them), and about the strong emotions movies can generate in the viewer.

Ultimately, alien creatures puppeteering the show are thwarted, Boy gets Girl, everybody goes back to what they were doing and things end well.

Thief of Time

Thief of Time
by Terry Pratchett

While not one of Pratchett's keel-over-laughing funny yarns, Thief of Time allows for plenty of guffaws and chuckles along the way as we get to know more about the History Monks and the dreaded Auditors, as well as the enigmatic Susan Sto Helit, grand-daughter of Death himself.

Of course, in the Discworld, very-real-yet-intangible-constructs are personified. So after we have accepted matter-of-factly that Death is a person (roughly speaking), we get to meet the Four (Five, actually) Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who are also persons so-to-speak, along with Ronnie Soak, the innocuous milkman whose façade barely contains the roiling innards that fester with what-I-could-have-been.

Time, in the Discworld, is just like any other resource that can be allocated and managed as needed. History Monks have taken it upon themselves to do this job, and do it well. After all "How much time does a codfish really need?" when busy intellectuals are wringing their hands wondering "Oh where does the time go?"

The subplots are intricately woven to meet and mingle and make sense in the end: there are the Auditors who decide to become persons (i.e., humans, with all the human failings), there is the reluctant Susan Sto Helit who gets dragged into the fray, there are the retired Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who don't want to be bothered when Death comes knocking on their doors, there is Lu-Tze who shall remain a conundrum, there is young Lobsang with strange talents, there is Igor mail-ordered from Igors-R-Us, and not the least of all is Jeremy, commissioned to build the Perfect Glass Clock which, ironically, would stop Time as we know it, if built successfully.

But that is not all in this fantastic story that Pratchett weaves: Time is a person. And Time begets a son. Well, two sons. No, strike that. One son who manifests himself in two very distinct forms with two very different abilities to manipulate time. And we learn that the relationship between Time and History is rather unique: History cannot happen if there is no fabric of Time for it to happen on.

Well, it is not easy to do justice to this multi-layered thrill-ride where nothing is exempt from mockery: from the classic martial arts movies to the modern system of education which relies more on feel-good-ness than learning, plus the power of chocolate as ammunition, and pure human frailty, skinned and exposed for us to ponder on.

As always, all's well that ends well. Things get sorted out and everybody goes back to doing what they end up doing according to history anyway.

Night Watch by Terry Pratchett

Night Watch
by Terry Pratchett

This is by far the darkest I've read of Pratchett's Discworld series. While his characteristic humor and elegant style is very much present, the plot and social commentary dwell on the dark side of human nature. In that sense, this was one of the tougher books to read after getting used to Pratchett's form, but highly satisfying.

Close on the heels of Thief of Time by Pratchett, reading Night Watch was a stark contrast. I enjoyed the characterization of Lu Tse, the little sweeper monk whose talents are such a legend that acolytes learn the Rule No.1 early on: Do not act incautiously when confronting a little bald wrinkly smiling man; and the whole concept of storing and re-purposing Time as needed was interesting but the book itself was not entirely appealing to my unrestrained passion for Pratchett's writing... But, that has to be its own post one of these days...

Back to Night Watch: Hot in pursuit of notoriously evil Carcer, Commander Vimes finds himself transported back 30 years, and what's more, Carcer is back there as well.

Now, Vimes has been an all-time favorite character of mine in the Discworld series, ever since I first encountered him in the side-splittingly clever Guards!Guards!. Commander Vimes encounters early Vetinari and other members of the current Watch in this story. Being quite a character, we get to see his wet-behind-the-ears young self commingling with his seasoned quick-on-his-feet-and-hard-to-fool copper self, thanks to time travel set off by magical storm and some meddlesome History Monks.

Events unfold where Pratchett manages to present complex ideas regarding Time, Sequence of Events in History, and Parallel Dimensions that I was easily held captive. The story progresses rapidly never dwelling on the incidental issues of rip in the Time continuum that could potentially result in irrevocable side-effects altering History and rewriting the Future.

There is Time Travel, and there is Pratchett's take on Time Travel; and for me, the latter is brilliantly innovative and convincingly coherent compared to the run-of-the-mill treatment of the former seen in pulp sci-fi.

This book is on my Re-Read List for sure.

Eric, Feet of Clay by Pratchett

Eric by Terry Pratchett	Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett

No, these two books are not in sequence or in anyway related, except for the fact that they are set in Discworld and are written by one of my favorite authors.

Eric was laugh-out-loud funny in parts even if the story was fairly run-of-the-mill. But, the story had to be run-of-the-mill because it is a parody. What's not to like about the talking parrot Wossname?! Rincewind, as established early on, has this knack of staying alive despite all odds, and somehow, all things bad that can happen in a situation, happen to him. And, with Luggage, Pratchett has created a brilliant character out of a box. And Eric, while not Faust, is certainly remarkable in a snot-nosed precocious sort of way. While not packing punches as it could have parodying Faust, Eric is all in all a playful riot of entertainment.

Feet of Clay, on the other hand is the third detective mystery with Commander Vimes of the Night Watch and Captain Carrot and Angua and of course, introducing Cheery Littlebottom. It's about golems, let me leave it at that. The plot is well-woven and well-presented, as always. Nothing spectacular about the criminal or the crime when Vimes finally solves it, but, isn't that how most good mystery novels end? In an effort to confound the reader, too many clues are either peppered liberally or intentionally withheld, so as to make the solution appear brilliant. This is a fairly easy read, not many laugh-out-loud moments, but certainly the usual reflections of ourselves and our limitations as humans, our theology and social hierarchy... A fairly typical early work of Pratchett, not terribly memorable or funny like Guards! Guards! which first attracted me to the Night Watch.

Maskerade by Terry Pratchett

It is no secret that I love Pratchett's Discworld books. Next to PG Wodehouse, Pratchett's writings blow me away. I always wonder if he just sits down and taps out those perfect sentences or if he writes like us mere mortals first and then goes back and polishes and hones it with his special gift till it shines... No matter. A perfect blend of humor/wit/keen observation/fluent expression... layers of meaning sometimes, and, fairly blunt at other times... the characters simply come into being and loom in the mind's eye without any visual aid...

It just saddens me to realize every time I read or re-read one of his books that there won't be many more as he is suffering from a form of Alzheimers that is quite rare and would prevent him from churning out such brilliant work.

Maskerade is another Discworld book with Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and the inimitable parodying that sets Pratchett apart. As the title might possibly suggest, this book parodies Phantom of the Opera. Yes, nothing is sacred when it comes to Pratchett's ideas, not even Opera.

Agnes (Perdita) Nitt, a witch from Lancre who refuses to accept it, is being pursued indirectly by the two great witches of Lancre (Granny and Nanny) to replace Magrat Garlick as the third witch needed to form the coven. But, Agnes runs off to join the Opera in Ankh-Morpork. And thus starts a series of events that bring Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg to the opera house to solve the mystery of the Ghost at the opera house.

Needless to say, the plot gets quite interesting with such uncommon new characters as Henry Slugg aka Enrico Basilica the world-renowned Tenor, Walter Plinge the odd-job man at the opera house who walks like a string puppet being manipulated by an amateur, and some old ones like Greebo the Cat and Nobby Nobs of The Watch.

The mystery of the opera Ghost is solved - in fact, revealed to be played by two people - one very unlikely and harmless, the other deranged and villainous. All's well that ends well, of course. Except for Agnes, who reluctantly joins the coven.

Making Money, Going Postal

I am grateful that I am able to read a few pages at a time of my chosen fiction each day to keep my mind from atrophying... baby-talk and toddler-talk are not easy habits to kick when one has a 3-yr-old and an infant... being a little sleep-deprived and operating on very little energy and patience, I find it a bit therapeutic to think about things other than poop and diaper rash and potty training :)

Anyway, I recently read two Terry Pratchett books back to back and wanted to write about them before I forget: Making Money , which is the sequel to Going Postal, relating the story of one of the brilliant characters T.P., has sketched out so far - viz., Moist von Lipwig.

Although loosely part of the Discworld series, these two are fairly stand-alone books that can be read without missing out on any intimate details of the fabulous fantasy series which... but wait, calling it a simple fantasy series doesn't do it justice really - the discworld books are brilliant parodies (or, "resonances") of anything and everything Pratchett fancies - from deep and profound themes to light and fanciful subjects.

Moist von Lipwig is the consummate confidence man - smooth, amiable, restrained enough not to let greed rip his mask out, and rather kind-hearted in his own odd way.

I got introduced to Moist von Lipwig in Going Postal. No, that is his real name, not one of his aliases as con-man, which makes perfect sense - I mean, would I remember Adam Spangler or Moist von Lipwig if he casually introduced himself to a gullible me he is trying to rip off?

Vetinari, the self-declared tyrant, patrician of the colorful city of Ankh-Morpork, seeing some potential in Moist that he can exploit, strong-arms Moist into going straight for a while at least and assigns him the almost impossible task of straightening out the Ankh-Morpork Post Office in Going Postal.

Adora Belle is another wonderful character in this series, who happens to be the woman Moist fancies, quite naturally - she is strong, independent, and quite an activist rescuing and emancipating golems all over.

Going Postal revealed Moist's character beautifully - he is just a bit lucky it would seem, but, then again, what is Luck if not the arrangement of right circumstances to achieve one's end? Moist manges to single-handedly turn around the decaying Ankh-Morpork post office through a series of bluffs and cons that pay off all too well. The description of the "clacks" system of sending messages - like telegraph, like the modern-day Internet - was absorbing and eye-opening about pioneer spirit and advancement of the technology-of-the-times, and how some visionaries, through sheer brilliance or luck, manage to bring it to every man.

Having successfully introduced stamps for the post office which become immensely popular and get elevated to a collector's item, and having tuned the Post Office to clock-work efficiency, Moist begins to feel bored and useless as he is no longer thinking on his feet trying to stay a step ahead of his detractors. That's where Vetinari comes in and throws a new challenge, making Moist the chairman of a major bank of Ankh-Morpork - rather, the owner of the chairman who happens to be a dog... and that's what Making Money is all about.

Moist is now faced with the challenge of cleaning up a major bank in his adopted city, only, he has no background in finance, and has never been part of Old Money to control the city's economics. Yet again, Moist rises to the challenge and this time introduces "paper currency", just like he introduced "stamps" in Going Postal, and tries to get people to think away from the gold reserves.

The intricate plot and clever satire are too hard for me to do any justice here in my review. Suffice it to say that it was very rewarding to read two wonderful books which at the surface may seem to address banal themes based on the sketch I've made above, but, which are certainly as profound and thought-provoking, not to mention chuckle-along- all-the-way funny and chaotic, as say Monstrous Regiment or Small Gods.

Small Gods by Terry Pratchett

If a religion founded on a god is flourishing, but no one believes in the god himself/herself, does the god still exist?

Terry Pratchett, in his characteristic satirical and witty narration, tackles the tough subject of Religion and Faith in this fantastic book, Small Gods, a Discworld novel.

Rather than resorting to plain caricature or mean-spirited mockery, the book manages to distinguish between Belief in God in an elemental/primordial sense versus the Ritualistic Institution of Organized Religion which manages to perpetuate the belief in god as a by-product through dubious practices.

The concept may not be terribly novel: Gods exist as a result of people believing in them ardently. Take away the belief and the gods diminish to nothingness.

But, the handling of this idea is quite refreshing and entertaining in this book. All the more so as it does not seek to undermine any particular popular religion practiced in today's world, but, tries to highlight the human tendency to glorify the superficial while ignoring the basic tenet at the core of any such popular belief system.

And what about the gods themselves? Are they above reproach? Not at all... Pratchett proposes that gods, once ensconced as legitimate and powerful beings, fail to notice the humans who elevated them to the exalted position they luxuriate in, thereby asking to be ignored and forgotten.

The story opens in Omnia, where the chief god Om was the all-powerful presiding deity once upon a time. Now denigrated to a pathetic existence in the lowly form of a tortoise, Om desperately tries to communicate telepathically with his true believer(s) so he can regain his lost glory.

However, the sole true believer who can hear him happens to be a simple lad Brutha, tending a melon patch as a novice monk at the Omnian church.

Om is desperate to escape the fate of the small gods who are doomed to wander in the deserted wastelands with no believers to shape them into divine existence.

Through his association with Brutha, Om learns. Yes, a god, a supposedly all-powerful god, learns fast while facing physical danger and the possibility of losing his sole believer, Brutha.

Om, the god, learns to think like a human and feel like a human, realizing how tenuous his position is with Brutha gradually losing the unshakable belief in Om's benevolence and justice. Om, reduced to the helpless form of a tortoise, learns that human worshipers are not worthless pawns on his chessboard to be toyed with and tossed around, for if he did, he'll soon have nobody to toy with.

Torn between the expectations of the zealous and authoritarian Deacon Vorbis and the revelation by his god Om that he did not originate any of the commandments that Omnian church rules by today, Brutha slowly but surely develops a deeper understanding about his religion and his faith which helps him eventually stand up for his beliefs, against Vorbis, and even stand up to his god Om.

My favorite parts in this book involve the Ephebians: right from the barroom brawl of the Ephebian philosophers over the nature of truth to the pithy statement of Didactylos about Urn's steam machine built to attack evil-doers, except it becomes fuzzy trying to decide who really are the evil-doers: "Hah! He's learning! Everything works both ways!".

Some quotes that absolutely caught my fancy:

In the rain-forests of Brutha's subconscious the butterfly of doubt emerged and flapped an experimental wing, all unaware of what chaos theory has to say about this sort of thing...

---

Describing the Deacon's quarters:

The room was as severe as anything in the novice's quarters although it had, perhaps, a more opulent severity; it wasn't the forced bareness of poverty, but the starkness of intent.

---

An exchange between Om and Brutha, where Om alludes to Lord Krishna of the Hindu mythology:

"There is no other god but you. You told (prophet) Ossary that."

"Well. You know. I exaggerated a bit. But they're not that good. There's one of 'em that sits around playing a flute most of the time and chasing milkmaids. I don't call that very divine..."

---

An exchange between philosophers in Ephebe:

"I'm telling you, listen, a finite intellect, right, cannot by means of comparison reach the absolute truth of things, because being by nature indivisible, truth excludes the concepts of 'more' or 'less' so that nothing but truth itself can be the exact measure of truth. You bastards," he said.

Someone from inside the building said, "Oh yeah? Sez you."

---

Another exchange between Om and Brutha:

"... Take it from me, whenever you see a bugger puttering around talking about truth and beauty and the best way of attacking Ethics, you can bet your sandals it's because dozens of other poor buggers are doing all the real work around the place while those fellows are living like-"
"— gods?" said Brutha.
There was a terrible silence.

Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett

Carpe Jugulum, while being the darkest novel of Terry Pratchett's I've read to-date, is still an incredibly clever, witty and funny novel, making for an enormously satisfying fast-paced read, with tension mounting progressively to an almost unbearable climax.

King Verence of Lancre, carried away by modernization and democratization, invites the neighboring Uberwald's undead, the Magpyrs, into Lancre to celebrate the birth of his daughter. But once ensconced within the castle, Magpyrs the vampires (or, vampyres, as they like it) while seemingly genial and refined gradually unleash their bloodlust and their will to dominate in a vengeful and barbaric fashion.

The plot at the outset might seem similar to Lords and Ladies, in which elves tried to take over Lancre. However, in Lords and Ladies, the inherent nature of the elves was starkly different from the popular folkloric conception of them as fair and benevolent. Whereas, in Carpe Jugulum, the vampires have carefully and deliberately adapted themselves into seemingly genial creatures who relish garlic, tolerate holy water, venture out into the sun and defy the popular conventional wisdom that instructs how to keep them at bay.

Aside: As a former physics student, it is no surprise that one of my favorite quotes from Lords and Ladies is the one about Schrödinger's cat, adapted to describe Greebo, Nanny Ogg's feline menace:

In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.

Lancre is home to some of my favorite characters of the Discworld - particularly the trio of witches I got introduced to in Wyrd Sisters - viz., Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and (Queen) Magrat.

The book also introduces Igor, the Magpyrs' family servant, who happens to speak with a hilariously heavy lisp and loves tradition, right down to the tradition of a lowly servant being treated as, well, a lowly servant. I later encountered Igors in Monstrous Regiment. Igor is one of the best characters in this book: not only is he made up of assorted body parts from other people, he is also good at sewing available body parts onto others in need, including his patchwork dog Scraps.

And, to tie up with another of his brilliant book, Small Gods, Pratchett also introduces a felicitous character - a priest of Om - through whom, it appears, Pratchett cleverly questions religious indoctrination and gives credence to Faith in its simple and unadulterated form.

In his inimitable style, Pratchett peppers the book with his take on the relationships between faith, religion, and morality through his characters, especially through the interactions between Granny and the Omnian Priest:

"It's not as simple as that. It's not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray. . . ."

"There's no grays, only white that's got grubby. I'm surprised you don't know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That's what sin is."

"It's a lot more complicated than that—"

"No. It ain't. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they're getting worried that they won't like the truth. People as things, that's where it starts."

A tenuous and incidental alliance between Granny Weatherwax and the Omnian priest, along with a little nudge from Igor, plus resourceful and timely interventions by Nanny Ogg, Magrat and Agnes Nitt (aka Perdita) seem to be the prescription to cure Lancre of the foul Magpyrs' infection.

Granny Weatherwax, easily a formidable witch in her own right, is now faced with an even more formidable enemy and finds out that she has to just go for the throat, borrowing the vampyres' motto: Carpe Jugulum.

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

I was quite saddened by the news of his illness, but, being a fan of Terry Pratchett's writing, I think he will stay on forever, no doubt.

In Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett tackles the thorny subject of War from its glorified magnificence to its spurious effectuality. He also weaves in controversial themes like women in the military, religion and faith, and even manages to jab pointedly at the pitfalls of oppressive bureaucracy.

As with most of his books, it is filled with satire and smart social commentary dispersed through the many interesting characters and a simple plot line.

This is a good stand-alone book in the Discworld series, with brand-new characters who briefly interact with Discworld staples like Captain Vimes of the Watch and his quirky underlings, but they don't affect the plot - they seem to be thrown in probably to humor long-time readers looking for familiar faces.

Polly Perks, being of the female persuasion by quirk of fate, is not allowed to own property. But she loves the inn that her family runs and would like to keep running it when her father passes away. However, the inn technically can only go to her brother, who has gone and enlisted in the army and hasn't been heard from, potentially making his claim to the inn forfeit. So, Polly decides to join the army in search of her brother, only, women cannot join the army. So, she lops off her lovely long hair and, not being physically well-endowed, manages to pass herself off as a lad much to her chagrin, and gets recruited easily... and so the story starts.

Once enlisted, she finds herself with a band of assorted new recruits who don't quite seem what they claim to be. Polly, her seven compatriots, under their commanding officers Lieutenant Blouse and Sergeant Jackrum, march on and do what needs to be done with no training except their common sense to keep themselves alive, even if it meant making sure the enemy doesn't stay alive to come after them.

The excuses for the battle by warmongering bureaucratic administration turn fuzzy and fade away, yet the battle wages on. Brutal casualties that can never be justified become an uncomfortable yet accepted reality. Propaganda and misinformation abound. Polly and her troop encounter it all, anxious to find the truth, to have some answers, to get some resolution, to get a direction, to see the end, such as it may be.

The events progress to an absurd and unbelievable state towards the end of the book when we, the readers, are probably tempted to take on a casual attitude reserved for works of fiction that try to handle a serious subject. However, as the characters in Discworld demonstrate how it is possible to go too far, we realize that the author is preparing to reveal the absurdity of our own actions in real life, serving as a potential warning to step back and take a better look at our own world.

Pratchett's keen observations and clever writing reveals a lot about our own reality through the adventures of the Discworld's citizens. However, he offers no tidy "all is well that ends well" conclusion to this book. Which is just as well, as there is none, and anything warm and fuzzy would dilute the strength of this work. Despite his characteristic humor, there is no denying the seriousness of this book.

The British edition had a far more interesting cover than the American edition cover pictured at the top of this post.

There were quite a few editorial/typographical errors in my copy of the book that seemed to indicate that it was probably thrown into the market earlier than intended. No matter. The errors were minor and didn't stand in the way of appreciating the book.

A bit of trivia I read indicated that the title for this book came from a 16th century misogynist pamphlet written by John Knox, arguing (based on religion) that women should not be in positions of authority, including the military.