R.I.P. Terry Pratchett

Sir Terry Pratchett, 1948 - 2015

The world of literature, (indeed, the world in general), is rendered a little duller by the passing of author, Sir Terry Pratchett, yesterday.  There’ll be plenty of folk lining up to pay tribute to him, but I’ve had a lot of fun with his books over the years, and it would be churlish not to add a few lines of my own.

Generally bracketed as a Fantasy writer, Pratchett was Britain’s second highest selling author and, certainly, his work is the exact opposite of difficult or obscure ‘great literature’.  In fact, whilst employing the full panoply of wizards, dwarfs, trolls, supernatural characters, etc., the books are actually intelligent parodies of a much-derided genre.  He wasn't adverse to playing with readers' expectations by incorporating a little of the Wizard in his own appearance.  Beyond that, the books operate as satires of our own society, and the foibles of human nature in general.  Most importantly, they’re nearly always just plain funny.  I’ve read many of his most famous ‘Discworld’ novels, usually  when I just wanted some good, honest entertainment, and have never encountered one that wasn’t a proper page-turner.

True Wisdom Is Never Pompous

Behind the humour, and the ample evidence that intelligence and entertainment need not be mutually exclusive, the books indicate an author who was always keen to tilt at those who would drain the joy from life.  He was clearly intolerant of  bigotry, fundamentalism, cruelty, or the hunger for power without responsibility.  Mostly though, his characters tend to be indulgent depictions of complex human fallibility, rather than two-dimensional symbols of good or evil.  Most of them are just trying to cope, (and maybe make a buck on the side, should the opportunity arise).  There’s a suggestion throughout the books that great feats are as likely to be performed through cock-up theory as anything grander, and even predestination might need a bit of patching up to help it along sometimes.

Sir Terry died at the relatively early age of 66, and his later years were famously blighted by his struggle with early onset Alzheimer’s disease.  Nevertheless, he continued to write without any perceptible diminution in his imaginative powers, and was an energetic campaigner for increased research into dementia in general.  He’d also expressed his belief in the right of the terminally ill to choose voluntary euthanasia.  In the event, it’s pleasing to hear he died in comfort, surrounded by family and accompanied by his sleeping cat.

Josh Kirby, Artwork For: Terry Pratchett, 'Mort', 1987

Discworld’s most memorable recurring character may be Death.  Despite his skeletal appearance and inescapability, he’s a surprisingly resigned and empathetic character who proves in ‘Mort’ [1.] that sometimes, even metaphysical personifications need a break from routine and a little, well - fun.  It’s tempting to imagine Death and Sir Terry settling down for an enjoyable chat, as I write.



[1.]:  Terry Pratchett, 'Mort', London, Victor Gollancz, 1987