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I was thirteen years old when I first read a Terry Pratchett book. He must have been quite popular at the time, because I had had the series recommended to me many times before, but had always been put off by the garish but iconic Josh Kirby covers. (I now adore those covers and will not hear a word said against them.)
My parents and I were in England, the tail-end of a very long trip, and were just ready to come back home, when my father fell and broke his leg. We found ourselves stuck in England for another week. Unsure how to entertain a 13 year old child, the lady who we were staying with took me to the library and allowed me to get some books out on her card.
I can’t remember all the books I chose, except that one was a big black book with “LENIN” printed unforgivingly on its spine (I chose it because, with all my 13 year old angst, I thought I would quite like to be “into” politics my conservative parents clearly hated) and Terry Pratchett’s Guards! Guards!
I still didn’t particularly want to try read Terry Pratchett but I thought now was as good a time as ever.
I chose Guards! Guards! because it had a dragon on the cover, and dragons are cool. I took the book home, calmly ignored my mother’s commands about not reading it in the bath, and cracked it open, expecting to be transported to the sort of over-the-top high fantasy world I had become used to: where everything is very serious, and all the characters are comfortable stereotypes, and where the stories never really quite change.
That whole trip I had been the most moody, angsty little teenager you ever could imagine. Every picture of me, I’m scowling like a thunder cloud is above my head. I was very serious, and very determined to be cool.
The moment I started reading that book, Terry Pratchett broke through all my defences and hit me in the chest, making me laugh out loud.
I never had laughed out loud at a book before, but suddenly here I was laughing so much that I had to stop my bath quickly before my mother found out that I had disobeyed her. Guards! Guards! took exactly the sort of high fantasy I was used to and turned it on its head.
First, a dramatic scene following darkly cloaked men in a secret society is made ridiculous when it turns out one of the men has the wrong society, he’s meant to go three doors down – a fact he only figures out half way through their elaborate exchange of code.
Next, Pratchett describes the most unusual sword in all of fantasy:
“…there is something very unexpected about this sword. It isn't magical. It hasn't got a name. When you wield it you don't get a feeling of power, you just get blisters; you could believe it was a sword that had been used so much that it had ceased to be anything other than a quintessential sword, a long piece of metal with very sharp edges. And it hasn't got destiny written all over it.
“It's practically unique, in fact.”
Of course Sir Terry’s books are about a lot more than just prodding fun at bad fantasy stereotypes that take themselves too seriously. His books poke fun at society and the world.
“Look at how ridiculous this all is,” he seems to say. “Can’t you see it?”
In this way he made me see what I will always think of as ‘The Joke’, and made me laugh.
Terry Pratchett was funny. And he was knowledgeable. You can read his books over and over again, and each time you will find something new to laugh at, or something new to discover, or some reference you didn’t pick up before.
And then, while your guard is down because you’re laughing, he would deliver a message or a moral. It would cut through everything like… like a very, very sharp thing and hit you directly in your heart and soul.
Because, above everything else, Terry Pratchett was a humanist, who cared very deeply for people.
People spend whole lifetimes studying long, detailed, non-fiction books, or books that have been named “holy”, and I’ve wondered, more than once, if it wouldn’t be better to study books that aren’t serious non-fiction, or holy scripture, but that do just happen to teach some of the most important lessons anyone could ever learn. Lessons about people.
Terry Pratchett was a wise man. One of the wisest this world has ever seen, in my opinion.
He was also one of the most important influencers in my life, and a person I came to admire and love as much as if he were family.
He might be gone now, but he left us the most wonderful, valuable gift: his complete works.
If I were you, I’d go pick up a Terry Pratchett book right now. Maybe Jingo, that can teach you about racism and prejudice between societies that happen to strongly represent those found in the West and the Middle East. Or Carpe Jugulum, that can teach you about faith, and religion, and willpower, and determination, and what really matters at the end of the day.
Or maybe just one of the ones about Death, that can teach you two of Sir Terry’s most important lessons: That Death, the Grim Reaper, is not necessarily to be feared, and also that, if he does exist, he probably likes cats.
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