I kind of made progress on the challenge this month, completing the
first of a newly-instated 'Russian SF' category with Roadside Picnic, by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. It's a bleak look
at a capitalist response to an utterly enigmatic alien visitation, from the perspective
of writers living and working within the Soviet Union and its centrally
controlled publishing industry.
Otherwise, November has been very much a month of Discworld, as I
continued my re-reading of the Pratchett canon with books four to eight: Mort, Sourcery, Wyrd Sisters, Pyramids and Guards! Guards!.
Mort is the first novel in
the Death strand of the series. Death has appeared in every book so far(1), but
this is the first time he has been given a starring role, rather than popping
up in a cameo, perhaps to confirm that someone didn't make it. It's the story
of Mort - short for Mortimer - an awkward youth who becomes Death's apprentice,
learning the trade and giving his master a chance to experience something of
humanity. Published in the same year as Equal
Rites(2), it rapidly established itself as the first 'gateway novel' in the
series, frequently recommended as a starting point to the new reader. It mixes
wit and whimsy with more serious themes - such as justice, faith and the
complex relationship of a ruler's personal qualities and their competence as a
ruler - with the deftness that leaves The
Colour of Magic for dust. It has a likable, if not particularly deep,
quartet of characters in Mort, Ysabelle - making a much more sympathetic showing
than in her cameo in The Light Fantastic
- Princess Keli(3) and Cutwell, with able support from the irascible and
enigmatic domestic Albert, although the star is undeniably Death himself.
Stern and kind, wise and wondering, ancient and innocent, the Death of
the Discworld is one of the great literary creations. With him, Pratchett
turned the end of life from horror into comfort, and sought to explore and
expand upon the many mysteries of life. THERE'S NO JUSTICE, Death often reminds
us. THERE'S JUST ME. I think I could, pardon the phrase, live with that.
Death makes his next appearance right at the beginning of Sourcery, in which the failed wizard
Rincewind is once more called upon to prevent Armageddon(4). This time, a
wizard has broken the usual rules of celibacy with such enthusiasm as to
produce eight children(5), the last being a Sourcerer, capable of creating
magic, instead of merely shaping it. This is arguably Rincewind's finest hour, although
his supporting cast are only so-so. Conina - the daughter of Cohen the
Barbarian and a temple dancer he rescued from an unspecified fate - and wannabe
barbarian hero Nijel the Destroyer are independently quite interesting characters,
but are awkwardly paired off; awkward because one of them is described as a
highly attractive, adult woman, then other as a gangly teenager apparently still
in the throes of puberty. |
| I have literally no clue what is going on with this cover. |
Wyrd Sisters picks up the
adventures of Granny Weatherwax(6) after Equal
Rites, now a member of a three-witch coven in the mountain kingdom of
Lancre, with long-time best friend/archnemesis Gytha 'Nanny' Ogg, and hippy
dippy newcomer Magrat Garlick. The three of them are caught up in a coup d'état
when they rescue a young baby, the rightful heir to the throne, from the usurping
Duke Felmet and his terrible wife. Borrowing heavily from Macbeth - among other
things - for plot and dialogue, and introducing a solid power trio in Granny -
the serious one - Nanny - the motherly one - and Magrat - the nice one - and
more pathetic fallacies than Jove could cast a thunderbolt at, this is the real
beginning of the Witches stream, with Equal
Rites a sort of precursor. It is interesting in retrospect that Magrat decides that witches only do kind things for selfish reasons, given that Tiffany Aching later determines that witches even do selfish things for kind reasons.
Pyramids, on the other hand,
is a standalone, featuring the prince of a small, yet once great, kingdom -
Djelebeybi - returning home after the death of his father and seeking to
overturn the millennia of stagnant tradition upheld by the priests of the
kingdom's many, many, many gods.
While the story stands alone, and Djelebey
There is a lot to like in Pyramids,
and I'm a sucker for a good bit of fantasy Egypt, but overall this is a bit of
an also-ran. Pteppic is a fair lead, but deuteragonist/quasi-love interest
Ptraci(7) is underdeveloped, and both pale next to Dios, a classic Pratchett
villain, determined to do what he believes is the right thing for everybody, no
matter how many people it hurts.
Finally, we come to Guards!
Guards!, the start of the City Watch stream and, as it happens, the first
Discworld novel I ever read. It introduces Sam Vimes and his 'boots theory of
socioeconomic unfairness,' and the rest of the Watch: Sergeant Colon, Corporal
Nobbs and new bug Lance-Constable Carrot. While it features a dragon, the novel
is pitched primarily as a police procedural, of sorts, and as such is probably
the first step on the road to the Disc's transformation from high fantasy to
industrial spellpunk. It is also probaball of the characters are brilliant. Not
the watch, not the villain, and neither the Patrician(8) nor dragon expert Lady
Sybil Ramkin are throwaway or half-finished characters. Everyone is sharing the
love, and it's brilliant.
But it's not been all Discworld, and I finally managed to get through
the rest of Harry Potter and the Order of
the Phoenix. The fifth book in the series is often held to be the weakest, but
while I still feel that it is overlong and sags in places(9), it's definitely
better than I remember; possibly because I didn't need to carry the hardback
around to read it. It took a while to get through because of my intense dislike
of Dolores Umbridge(10), the unacceptable face of the Ministry of Magic's slide towards
a totalitarian cult of personality. I couldn't listen to anything with Umbridge
in while I was going to sleep, which led to me favouring the Discworld novels
all around. Much as I find the character uncomfortable, I acknowledge that the
effect is intentional, serving to strip away the protected feeling which
surrounds Hogwarts, and put the young leads well and truly on their own for the
first time.
Of course, this all serves to highlight the frankly appalling level of
pastoral care and gross favouritism in play at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry(11), even before Umbridge gets all up in it. It also exposes the
deep corruption in the Ministry of Magic, and in many ways it's no wonder that
a regime like Fudge's - broadly ineffectual, conciliatory, nepotistic, corrupt,
and unduly tolerant of ultraconservative attitudes within society - would breed
a far right revolution from those who simultaneously recognise the government's
shortcomings, yet regard their centre right political leanings as insufferably
liberal. While I joke about this, once more Rowling turns in an unmistakably
political novel, with thinly veiled attacks on OFSTED, and the Hitler Youths of
the Inquisitorial Squad. These are books to make children think, rather than
simply to entertain them.
(1) And will appear in almost, if not every book hereafter.
(2) The first of six consecutive years to
see a double Discworld event.
(3) Pronounced in the audiobook 'khey-lee'
and not, as I had always assumed, Kelly.
(4) Or more accurately, the Apocralypse.
(5) Despite being a gold standard douchebag.
(6) Not that Granny would hold with
adventures, most likely.
(7) Pronounced here 'puh-tra-chee', rather
than as I would have thought, 'Tracy'.
(8) Making his first major appearance, after cameos in The Colour of Magic and Sourcery.
(9) It is no surprise that Rowling broke
with her editors during the writing of the novel, as it is in need of some trimming
just to tighten up the edges.
(10) Not least because of the utter chill
factor of Stephen Fry's performance of her sickly-sweet voice.
(11) And that's another thing; are
witchcraft and wizardry in any way distinct save in the gender of the caster?
What would a non-binary magic user do?
