[D]arkness isnât the opposite of light, it is simply its absence, and what was radiating from the book was the light that lies on the far side of darkness, the light fantastic.
It was a rather disappointing purple colour.
(Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic: A Sequel to The Colour of Magic (London: Corgi Books, 1989 [1986]), 178â179.)
End AbstractâWhen does it start?â the reader is asked at the beginning of Terry Pratchettâs Lords and Ladies , only to be told that there are very few beginnings worth their names: most beginnings are merely âlittle window[s] on a ribbon of events that may extend back thousands of yearsâ,1 when, we may assume, even Great AâTuin, the giant turtle carrying through space four elephants on whose backs the Discworld is placed, was once a hatchling, and the Discworld itself was still in narrative stasis. The Discworld series did not start Terry Pratchettâs writing career, but his fame as a writer is based on its success: it is where many Pratchett fans first encountered his wit and literary skill and, appropriately, his last novel, The Shepherdâs Crown (2015), is set on Discworld, too.
Writing about Terry Pratchett, it is easy to revel in superlatives. On a social and political level, the frankness and trademark humour with which he made public his diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimerâs disease, and his subsequent activism for Alzheimerâs Research UK have made a lasting impact on the debate over the stigmatisation of mental health issues and end-of-life decisions. Moreover, with total sales of more than 80 million books and translations into 37 languages, Pratchett is one of Britainâs bestselling novelists, and the assessment that he only needs to be explained to âreaders who have been living on a different planet altogetherâ2 is maybe only a slight exaggeration. One out of every hundred books sold in England in 2002 was written by Pratchett,3 he was awarded the Order of the British Empire in 1998 and knighted for services to literature in 2009. Again, Huntâs oft-quoted quip that âno British railway train is allowed to depart unless at least one passenger is reading a Pratchett novelâ4 only slightly exaggerates Pratchettâs popularity as a writer. As Holcombe states: Pratchett âmakes hyperbole seem understatementâ.5
Trained as a journalist, Pratchett started his literary career with the publication of the childrenâs novel The Carpet People in 1971 (revised and republished in 1992). The first novel of his Discworld series, The Colour of Magic, appeared in 1983, and the quickly spiralling success of the series allowed him to become a full-time writer in 1987. Including the posthumously published The Shepherdâs Crown (2015), the Discworld series consists of 41 novels, six of which are specifically addressed to juvenile readers.6 Most of the novels feature a recurring set of characters and are part of specific substories (particularly those of Death, the witches, the City Watch, and the wizards). The stand-alone novels (such as Pyramids [1992], Monstrous Regiment [2003], or Small Gods [2003]) nonetheless tend to allude to and include events and/or characters from the Discworld universe introduced in other novels of the series. Apart from a few exceptions, the Discworld novels are situated within the same timeframe on Discworld, and characters from different substories frequently meet within the pages of other stories.
The Discworld series originally started out as a loving parody of high fantasy and, while turning into an increasingly sophisticated vehicle of social and political commentary, has retained and elaborated its interest in narrative traditions and motives of fantasy, fairy tales, and folklore. The Discworld universe is run on magic, but the magic follows very specific rules and, as Pratchett and his co-authors point out in The Science of Discworld, can thus be bent and analysed in a scientific manner. As Pratchett himself suggests, there is a profound contemporary and realistic level to his merely âlargely imaginaryâ world, and the relationship between Discworld and our own âRoundworldâ is a highly complex one, with the former both mirroring and distorting the latter: â[I]t has that slight air of solidity that mythology brings to an image.â7
Apart from the Discworld novels, Pratchett has published various other works, such as science fiction novelsâthe earliest ones, The Dark Side of the Sun (1976) and Strata (1981), independently, the later ones, such as the Long Earth series (2012â2015, with Stephen Baxter), in collaboration with other writers. Non-Discworld childrenâs books include The Carpet People (1971), the Truckers trilogy (1989â1990) and the Johnny Maxwell trilogy, as well as the freestanding Nation (2008) and The Dodger (2012). His publications also include several non-fiction books (such as A Slip of the Keyboard, 2014) and Discworld-related material, such as Nanny Oggâs Cookbook (1999), The Folklore of Discworld (with Jacqueline Simpson, 2008) and Science of Discworld series (with Ian Steward and Jack Cohen, 1999â2013). Several of his novels have spawned adaptations, such as Mort: The Big Comic (1994), the play Nation (2009) and the film Terry Pratchettâs The Colour of Magic (2008). The Discworld series in particular has secured Pratchett a huge fan base, and one dedicated enough to organise various conventions, which the author sometimes joined as guest of honour.8
Popularity and commercial success alone, however, do not necessarily warrant scholarly attention, at least not of the kind that this book is offering. So what is it that makes Terry Pratchett worth our attention as literary scholars? What is it that makes of Pratchettâs work the literary gems his millions of fans see in them? This collection outlines and analyses some of the central characteristics of Pratchettâs literary style, his central motives and themes, and by the end of this book even the Pratchett novice should have a fairly good grasp of what distinguishes the author from other writers. For now, a short introduction will have to suffice: Pratchettâs writing is deep and insightful, but it is also accessible, imaginative and truly and deeply funny. As Neil Gaiman, who collaborated with Pratchett on their joint novel Good Omens (1990), comments: âHe never writes ugly sentences, or wastes a word, and at his best he says something in a way which means you can never again see it in the way you saw it before.â9
This simultaneity of literary merit and popularity is not something that is traditionally associated with high literature , a fact Pratchett continuously plays with intra- and extratextually: âItâs all stuff,â he says of his work in an interview with Linda Richards.10 Nevertheless, Pratchett is not just popular, but also critically highly acclaimed: Alton and Spruiellâs conviction that âPratchett marries entertaining prose with a kind of edgy humorous insight into the human condition that, in an area other than fantasy, would be regarded as high artâ11 is mirrored by exclamations of writers such as A.S. Byatt, who argued that the Discworld novel Thief of Time should have earned its author the Booker Prize. In that sense, his continuous self-description as a literary outsider, of himself as a writer only âaccused of literatureâ,12 a fantasy geek writing for other geeks, can be read as joyful coquetry: implied in this play with expectations is a criticism of the stuffy literary circles that will only consider worthy of scholarly and critical attention âseriousâ writing, writing you may need a dictionary for, plus a quiet and undisturbed reading time in your office. What we may detect here is both whimsical self-mockery and a sense of genuine wonder about his own success: fantasy is, of course, still thought of as inferior by many literary critics and scholars and, to a degree, this is even more true for humorous fantasy. A quote in the narrative voice of one of his earlier characters, Deathâs granddaughter Susan, may illustrate Pratchettâs relish in proclaiming his writing as non-literature: âSusan hated Literature. Sheâd much prefer to read a good book.â13 High Literature, capital L-literature, is stuffy and pretentious; in contrast, Pratchett saw his writing as the âgood stuffââpopular, entertaining and against the grain of the literary establishment.
Pratchettâs widespread popularity to an extent explains why he has been called a democratic author (though Jamesâs description of him as âthe most democratic writer of fantasyâ writes into existence a democracy scale of fantasy authors that is difficult and a little nonsensical to set up): Pratchettâs work addresses readers of all backgrounds, and though some of the puns are much easier to understand if the reade...