#the problem with discworld is so many people mean to read it eventually

[falderaletcetera]

having thoughts about jackrum (monstrous regiment, discworld) that I am now ethically obligated to sit on instead of sharing publicly, dammit

[terramythos]

TAYLOR READS 2024: MORT BY TERRY PRATCHETT

Title: Mort (Discworld) (1987)

Author: Terry Pratchett

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Comedy, Third-Person

Rating: 7/10

Date Began: 1/6/2024

Date Finished: 2/4/2024

Mort, a young man with no clear direction in life, becomes apprenticed to Death himself. While learning the so-called trade, Mort makes a mistake which threatens to rewrite the course of history.

I INVITE YOU INTO MY HOME, he said, I TRAIN YOU, I FEED YOU, I CLOTHE YOU, I GIVE YOU OPPORTUNITIES YOU COULD NOT DREAM OF, AND THUS YOU REPAY ME. YOU SEDUCE MY DAUGHTER FROM ME, YOU NEGLECT THE DUTY, YOU MAKE RIPPLES IN REALITY THAT WILL TAKE A CENTURY TO HEAL. YOUR ILL-TIMED ACTIONS HAVE DOOMED YOUR COMRADES TO OBLIVION. THE GODS WILL DEMAND NOTHING LESS. ALL IN ALL, BOY, NOT A GOOD START TO YOUR FIRST JOB.

For live reading notes, check the reblogs (contains unmarked spoilers).

Content warnings and review (spoiler-free and spoiler versions) under the cut.

Content Warnings: Mentioned -- Suicide, animal abuse. Depicted -- Death (i mean. yeah), animal death, sexual humor, suicidal ideation, fatphobia (kinda).

**SPOILER-FREE REVIEW**

Before I dive into the review, I want to acknowledge that despite several criticisms, I did enjoy reading Mort. It certainly has issues that keep me from rating it higher, but I still recommend it as a fun read despite these flaws.

A major reason for this is the prose. It's difficult to express just how clever Pratchett was as a writer. He has a unique way of presenting scenes and situations which consistently feels fresh and original. Whether it's clever wordplay or a unique spin on tired cliches, he's always catching me off guard in the best way. Saying someone's voice "could have kept milk fresh for a month" instead of "was icy" is one among hundreds of delightful examples. And while there's plenty of witticisms, they feel genuine rather than cynically scripted to appeal to as many people as possible.

Pratchett also doesn't shy away from serious topics despite the general comedic tone, and this contrast makes the grounded parts of the writing all the more poignant. His fantastic style is so omnipresent in his work that to explore it in detail would devour the rest of the review. Even when taking notes while reading I'd have to be selective on WHICH great phrases I wrote down lest I only spend time on them to the exclusion of all else.

One specific thing I like about Pratchett's writing is how specific jokes recur throughout the story but often in ways one doesn't expect. There's a running bit in Mort where characters will call him "boy" or "lad" and he tiredly corrects them with "Mort". As a reader I fully expected him to eventually get fed up and chew someone out for failing to use his name. And… he does! But later the joke is subverted again in a (spoilerific) way I DIDN’T expect, which caught me completely off guard. Setups and payoffs like that are delightful.

**SPOILER REVIEW**

My biggest struggle with Mort is that I found it difficult to care about the plot until the end. There are two things working against Mort's story that made me feel this way.

The first is the main conflict's inciting incident: Mort commits a selfish act and saves the life of a princess who was supposed to die. In doing so, Mort warps reality and the fabric of history itself. The problem is, the only reason he saves Princess Keli is because of a superficial crush on her just from seeing her for a few seconds. The two barely interact before he saves her, and when they do later, there's not any chemistry to make this decision interesting. And yes, I'm aware that this was probably intentional: Mort did something foolish and impulsive and has to deal with the consequences. The problem is that since the rest of the plot hinges on his choice to intervene, and the context around that choice is so lackluster, it brings the entire plot down. I found myself wondering why Mort bothers to keep up the ruse and lie directly to Death when his reason for doing so is so vague and uninteresting. The personal stakes just felt nonexistent to me.

The second issue is how the story is structured. Rather than closely following a standard plot progression, Mort is more like a series of vignettes and scenes loosely tied together. There's nothing wrong with that in and of itself; I'd argue Guards! Guards! follows a similar style, and I'm willing to bet much of Pratchett's work does. The problem is when this lack of focus combines with a weak core conflict. Reality being split and history diverging should be compelling, yet I wondered why I should care at all. The main thing that kept me reading was the clever writing and setups in these scenes. So I found the book fun to read but the story mediocre.

To Mort's credit, the stakes get more personal and involved toward the end. I finally found the story and characters compelling when Mort started to become more like Death. It's jarring when his dialogue intermittently switches to Death's unique typeface. This is probably the only time I've had a font choice genuinely catch me off guard-- unexpected Death dialogue is surprising in other Discworld books, but here it serves a different function because it's NOT actually Death speaking. The true love interest Ysabell also gets a lot of characterization toward the end, which is a shame because she's a great character who should have had plot involvement sooner.

Speaking of characters near the end, it seems like Pratchett suddenly realized the book needed a villain in the third act, so randomly assigned the role to side character Albert. So he's evil for a few dozen pages after showing no indication of this before, then the whole incident with him is resolved by Death with zero problems. It's super weird-- in fact, you could probably cut Albert out of the story entirely and nothing would change. Perhaps I'm missing something but I really didn't see the point of this. There is some context suggesting he is an historical figure referenced in other Discworld novels, so maybe it's more interesting if you've read those. However, having only read Guards! Guards!, this obviously fell flat for me. While inter-book references are fun (I was delighted to see The Librarian, for example), I don't think key components of the plot should rely on them, assuming that is the case here.

On the positive side, there are some small details I loved. One is how Pratchett uses the phrase "There is no justice. There is just me," to refer to Death. Because the moment I read it I wondered when we would hear "there is just us" instead, since the pun speaks for itself. So when we DID get that line during an emotional moment of the story I was cheering and hollering and punching the air and shit. It's one of those predictable things that is nevertheless extremely satisfying as a reader.

Another great detail is that every person has a literal book that describes their life until they die, which is constantly being written. While this is true metaphorically, it's a literal thing in Death's domain. Mort the novel closes with Mort the character seeing his own book and reading from it, and this becomes the narration for the last page or so. It's a clever payoff to a mechanic introduced in the novel.

A last thing to note is that there are still some loose ends. This isn't necessarily a criticism since there is a chance they are addressed in future books, but I'm mentioning them for my own benefit. In one early scene, Mort bungles his job so badly that a witch named Goodie Hamstring successfully manipulates him and escapes dying entirely. Considering the emphasis on this scene and the ominous tone, it isn't addressed at all by the end of the book, so it is possible this character shows up elsewhere.

Something not fully explored is the theme of reality. When Mort rescues Princess Keli, he creates a paradox where multiple realities exist, and one has to dominate over the other, which serves as part of the main conflict. Death's realm is not real despite being a major location in the story-- something that's true in a meta sense (Mort being a work of fiction) but also in the context of the story. Then there's implications throughout the book that Mort becomes "more real" the more he behaves like Death. While Death is the final reality of life, obviously, this is presented more in a mechanical way than a philosophical one. At the end of the story Death gives Mort a pearl of reality that Mort created due to the events of the novel, stating that it can be the beginning of a new universe whenever Discworld finally dies. This is… quite the detail to drop at the end. I feel like reality is explored as an in-universe mechanic rather than a metaphorical theme in the story, which is why it doesn't feel conclusive by the end. It makes me wonder, again, if this is going to come up in a later Discworld novel.

**CONCLUSION**

Overall while I had some issues with Mort as a story, as a reading experience I really enjoyed it. I might delve into more of the City Watch storyline next, since I had a great time with Guards! Guards! and want more of those characters.

[the-light-followed]

SOURCERY (1988) [DISC. #5; RINCEWIND #3]

“It’s vital to remember who you really are.  It’s very important.  It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see.  They always get it wrong.”

Rating: 7/10

Standalone Okay: Yes, but more fun with context.

Read First: Yeah.

Discworld Books Masterpost: [x]

* * * * * * * * * *

Magic!  Sourcery! Death!  The apocryphal apocalypse, the Apocralypse!  Puns!  A cowardly wizard who can’t do magic and who takes it in turns to run away from, and then toward, and then away again from danger!

Over the course of the story, Sourcery literally and figuratively rewrites reality and magic across the Disc.

Sourcery feels a lot like a second start for the Discworld series.  Much like The Colour of Magic, it introduces many of Discworld’s major locations, characters, and themes.  It even stars Rincewind, in all his cowardly, unmagical glory.  But unlike The Colour of Magic, Pratchett has locked down not just the look of the place, but also the feel of it.  The Discworld, as a setting, balances on the knife’s edge between absurdist humor and poignant sincerity, and it makes sense that it took Pratchett a couple novels to get the blend just right.  I feel like the first five books in the series mark a slow path to the Discworld that the rest of the novels will occupy comfortably, starting with the purely satirical high fantasy nonsense of The Colour of Magic, shifting through the more original concepts of Equal Rites and Mort, and finally settling in place with Sourcery.

With the arrival of Coin, the powerful Sourcerer—who unlike a wizard is a source of magic, not just able to use the stuff—the balance of magic and nature shifts, wizards and towers rise and fall, and the Things from the Dungeon Dimensions briefly push very, very close to the Discworld before they’re driven back.  

By the time the story ends, magic is revitalized and permanently changed through the arrival (and then departure) of Sourcery, and the balance of power between city-states is permanently altered.  In fact, it is strongly implied that because of these magical battles, some of these places have entirely ceased to exist.

Whoops!

We get a solid cast of characters for this one, coming together and splitting apart again for some really well-paced storylines running alongside one another.  There’s Conina (daughter of Cohen the barbarian, hairdresser by profession and warrior by genetics) and Nijel the Destroyer (son of a grocer, but he read a book about how to be a barbarian once), the Unseen University wizards (who put all their skill points into magic powers and absolutely none into common sense), the Librarian and his flock of books (the books literally fly like birds to escape a fire in the Library), Coin the Sourcerer (parented badly by the ghost of his dead father which is possessing his magical staff (no, really)), Death and the other Horsemen of the Apocralypse, etc., etc.  Even the Archchancellor’s Hat has a pretty solid role to play.

And, of course, we’ve got our main protagonist, beloved run-away wizard Rincewind.

Western media trains audiences to see and expect cowardice as a negative trait, usually given to villains, traitors, and failures.  But although Rincewind’s cowardice is as much a defining characteristic as his lack of magical ability and his misspelled hat, I see him as one of the kindest and most genuinely likeable protagonists on the Disc.  (As opposed to my other faves: Vimes can be too intense, Vetinari too terrifying, and Granny is some unholy combination of both those things.  Moist is, quite frankly, a little shit.)  

Rincewind has ‘runs away a lot, usually from things that want him dead’ as his main character flaw, sure, but I can’t honestly fault him for that. Let’s be real—it’s just a logical continuation of the all-important survival trait, which Rincewind has in spades. And at the same time, he’s also knowledgeable, sarcastically funny, kind in his own way, and totally, completely harmless.  It’s almost sweet, even, how utterly nonthreatening this man is.  Like Coin the Sourcerer says: he’s like a funny little rabbit.  How can you not love that?

I also love that Rincewind’s cowardice doesn’t stop him from doing what has to be done, even when—maybe especially when—no one else seems to be answering the call.  Despite all the infinitely more powerful wizards up in the tower with the Sourcerer, it’s Rincewind who shows up with no magic at all, just a half-brick in a sock, ready to at least try to stop the inevitable unraveling of reality and destruction of the Disc.  (I’m standing by my claim that Rincewind might be a terrible wizard, but an excellent accidental witch.  See my post on Equal Rites for the distinction.)

Anyway, in the end, it turns out that it’s not Coin that’s the real problem, it’s his staff; Rincewind immediately turns to protecting Coin, a literal child.  When he and Coin are pulled through to the Dungeon Dimension, Rincewind uses himself as a distraction so Coin can escape, even though it means he’ll be trapped there with terrible things that want him dead.  The book ends with him still trapped in the Dungeon Dimensions.

That’s not great, obviously, but one thing I really appreciate about the Discworld series is that even though bad things happen or threaten to happen all the time, you can always trust Pratchett not to be cruel for cruelty’s sake or even just for shock and awe.  Things are scary and bad, but they will turn out okay in the end. Pratchett’s not about that grimdark bullshit, and that’s a promise you can take straight to the bank.  He understands people in such a real way—none of his characters are purely good or purely evil, but on the whole, when pushed, they tend toward good.  They think. They reconsider.  They try.  Even when it seems pointless, they fight back, and Pratchett always rewards his characters—and the readers—for that.

Sourcery, a prime example of this, ends on a pretty solid cliffhanger.  Knowing as we do now that there are four more books that star Rincewind in the Discworld lineup, we as a modern audience don’t need to worry.  But in the context of 1988, where there are two full years and three full novels before Rincewind is mentioned again, we have to take Pratchett at his word, and the man really does do everything in his power to reassure us that all will be well:

“Silence drifted around the remains of a hat, heavily battered and frayed and charred around the edges, that had been placed with some ceremony in a niche in the wall.  No matter how far a wizard goes, he will always come back for his hat.”

The Rincewind books were actually some of the last ones I read of the Discworld, my first time around, to the point where I already trusted Pratchett not to mess with my feelings for no reason.  It’s always nice to hit a cliffhanger and know the author will give a satisfying, well-written payoff—he wouldn’t have written it as he did if he didn’t intend to go somewhere with it later.

And now, having read all the books several times over, I have the satisfaction of being certain that even though it takes him a while, Rincewind will make it back to U.U. in the end.  Any time I read one of the Rincewind books and start to feel bad for the poor bastard, I can reassure myself that despite every time he’s forced to risk his life or dragged along against his will on a wild and crazy adventure, eventually he will be given tenure at the University, and he will have the most boring job imaginable, mostly involving sorting his predecessor’s rock collection.  It’s all the man has ever dreamed of getting out of life.

As a final note, I have to sidetrack into something that makes me very excited: in Sourcery, Vetinari is finally given a name!

[Paul Kidby’s version of Vetinari from The Pratchett Portfolio.]

Admittedly, this is not the first time the Patrician appears; he’s been around since The Colour of Magic.  It’s just that he’s now officially been named, and with that naming comes more and more elements of his personality.  Unfortunately, this does not mean he’s now fully, entirely, um…Vetinari-like.  (Is there a good word to describe what, exactly, Vetinari is?  Let me know; I sure as hell can’t think of one. Machiavellian, sure, but there’s a lot more going on in there on top of that.)  He looks like Vetinari.  He’s got some very Vetinari-sounding traits.  He’s even got Wuffles, and let’s be honest, ‘unreasoning love of dogs’ is one of Vetinari’s easiest-to-nail-down personality traits.

But he also dramatically misjudges a situation with the wizards and the newly-arrived Sourcerer, Coin, to the point where he is turned into a lizard for the rest of the book.

On the one hand, this is clearly an object lesson in human-slash-wizard nature that Vetinari takes firmly to heart, because I can’t think of any time in any other Discworld novel where the man fucks up quite that badly.  One of Vetinari’s strongest traits is that he gets people, he understands them and what they want, and the reason he stays in power despite all efforts to the contrary is that he knows how to work that to his advantage.  Future Vetinari is a lot more cautious and delicate with both his demands and his threats, he pretty much always gets what he wants, and he is never again forcibly transmogrified into a small, angry reptile.  That’s character development, folks.

On the other hand, I think I’m so used to Vetinari as the all-knowing, puppeteering chess-master that he seems wildly out of character for the relatively short amount of time he shows up in Sourcery.  I don’t even think I’m entirely wrong in that, because, again, Pratchett is still figuring out Vetinari as a character at this point. He’s been around since The Colour of Magic, yes, but this is the first time we see him as a real, concrete person and not a mere device to drive the plot.  

Somehow, he doesn’t yet feel like the politician slash assassin that we’ll come to know and love.  Sure, we all know he’s secretly got a hidden sense of humor and a live-and-let-die approach to the whimsical absurdity that pretty much runs the Disc, but he doesn’t make mistakes.

By the time we get to Guards! Guards!, though, Pratchett will pretty much have him on lock.  Maybe we really just need to hold his brand of cynicism up next to Vimes’s in order to put them both in the right light.

But we’ve still got a few more books between then and now.  Next up, we return to the witches: it’s the Shakespearean-inspired Wyrd Sisters!

* * * * * * * * * *

Side Notes:

Rincewind does exactly one (1) magic in this book, and I am very proud of him for it.

Something I missed on my last readthrough: the Luggage apparently coughed up the Ottavo after a couple days.  Last I remembered, in The Light Fantastic, it had swallowed this most powerful grimoire on the Disc and showed no signs of ever giving it up.  On the one hand, there’s nowhere safer on the Disc to store a reality-warping spellbook than inside a murderous suitcase, but on the other, Rincewind and his awful luck don’t really need that sort of risk following them around on hundreds of tiny legs.

This book has a really solid message: a person has to decide for themselves who and what they are.  It repeats throughout a lot of the character arcs: Rincewind, Conina, Nigel, even Coin the Sourcerer.

Rincewind might not be great at magic, but he’s got the most common sense.  For example: it’s not Rincewind’s magical powers that make him able to fly the magic carpet.  It’s just that he’s the only one to notice that they’ve set it on the ground upside-down. I think this serves him better than actual magic would in most of his escapades.

Favorite Quotes:

“‘I meant,’ said Ipslore bitterly, ‘what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?’  Death thought about it.  CATS, he said eventually.  CATS ARE NICE.”

“It was quite impossible to describe.  Here is what it looked like.  It looked like a piano sounds shortly after being dropped down a well.  It tasted yellow, and it felt Paisley.  It smelled like the total eclipse of the moon.”

“It’s vital to remember who you really are.  It’s very important.  It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.”

“They suffered from the terrible delusion that something could be done.  They seemed prepared to make the world the way they wanted it or die in the attempt, and the trouble with dying in the attempt was that you died in the attempt.”

“There are eight levels of wizardry on the Disc; after sixteen years Rincewind has failed to achieve even level one.  In fact it is considered opinion of some of his tutors that he is incapable even of achieving level zero, which most normal people are born at; to put it another way, it has been suggested that when Rincewind dies the average occult ability of the human race will actually go up by a fraction.”

“Rincewind rather enjoyed times like this.  They convinced him that he wasn’t mad because, if he was mad, that left no word at all to describe some of the people he met.”

“Despite rumor, Death isn’t cruel—merely terribly, terribly good at his job.”

“The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page.  In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find.”

“The day had, in fact, reached that gentle point when it was too late for housebreaking and too early for burglary.”

[helshades]

Ok Hel. I've spent the whole of april reading Good Omens because it had been on my to read list thanks to you for such a long time and i Knew i needed to have finished before the series came out (and how glad am i because the series doesn't hold a candle to the original despite being very commandable). Anyways. I am thorougly in love with Terry Pratchett's voice, and i need more, stats. How should i go at it? Where to start?

‘St. Beryl of Krakow was a 5th-century Christian martyr. Forcibly married to the pagan Duke Casimir, Beryl maintained her all-important virginity by ceaselessly talking to him and incessantly chattering on, until he went down with a headache.

Eventually he couldn't stand the eternal wittering any more and had her executed, but she died a virgin, which in Christian eyes was the all-important thing and which secured her a sainthood.

The Chattering Order of St. Beryl are an order of nuns dedicated to emulating her example, and whose members are commanded to chatter, natter, and rabbit on about every last little thing that comes into their heads for every second of every waking hour.

The Sisters are allowed half an hour's respite on Tuesdays, when they may be silent and, if they wish, play table-tennis’

Truth be told, I may be the only person who upon being prompted to give advice on a reading order for the ‘Discworld’ series will inevitably reply: ‘From the beginning, by book one, what a question’. Then again, I am also the sort of person to read Good Omens in two days (it should take me one, but I keep re-reading passages out loud) and the day after I was gifted my first Pratchett novel by my grandmother who thought she was trolling me (the back read: ‘In the realm of Lancre, smaller than a nudist’s outfit...’) I hurried into the big city to purchase the thirteen previous ones, which I read in one go, bar the odd contractual pause for sleep or shower (as other activities didn’t especially require that I stop).

Now, you might actually want to show some more restraint than I usually do in your discovery of such a vast, bountiful new territory, and start strategically, as it were, by a book most likely to help you transition smoothly from Good Omens into... well, Terry Pratchett didn’t write solely about the Discworld, but the Discworld novels certainly are the best point of entry and they are exactly what you are looking for if what you are looking for is a post-Good Omens fix. If such were the case, I would select these precise books amongst my favourite:

Hogfather (20)

Going Postal (33)

Interesting Times (17)

Monstrous Regiment (31)

Lords and Ladies (14) 

Guards! Guards! (8)

The Discworld series comprises 41 books but they can absolutely be read on their own, so that in theory you may start with any of them. Nevertheless, some of the main characters have their own series: they grow up or grow older, start a family, shoulder new responsibilities... Some will deem it more satisfying to see these characters evolve along the years, especially as Pratchett’s own writing style has improved greatly since the (hilarious, but much less profound) initial volumes.

Should I advise only one book to be read after Good Omens, though, I think I would select Hogfather. It is a wonderful entry for many reasons, including the clever twists on real-world myths, the amazing main characters, the fact that it can totally be counted as a Christmas tale, and the seriously amazing main characters—who are (Duchess) Susan Sto Helit, who I guess is the closest thing the Discworld had to a Mary Poppins, and her grandfather, Death (a long story. It is told in Mort.), a 6-foot-tall skeleton normally in a black robe equipped with a scythe, except this time He is wearing a fake beard and several cushions to fake a jolly big belly, because one has to temp as the Hogfather, the latter having disappeared without a trace, meaning the little kiddies of the Disc won’t have their Hogswatch presents this year... ah, and, also, the world might just end because of it.

Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree. But people have always been dimly aware of the problem with the start of things. They wonder aloud how the snowplough driver gets to work, or how the makers of dictionaries look up the spelling of the words. Yet there is the constant desire to find some point in the twisting, knotting, ravelling nets of space-time on which a metaphorical finger can be put to indicate that here, here, is the point where it all began...

Something began when the Guild of Assassins enrolled Mister Teatime, who saw things differently from other people, and one of the ways that he saw things differently from other people was in seeing other people as things (later, Lord Downey of the Guild said, ‘We took pity on him because he'd lost both parents at an early age. I think that, on reflection, we should have wondered a bit more about that.’) But it was much earlier even than that when most people forgot that the very oldest stories are, sooner or later, about blood. Later on they took the blood out to make the stories more acceptable to children, or at least to the people who had to read them to children rather than the children themselves (who, on the whole, are quite keen on blood provided it's being shed by the deserving), and then wondered where the stories went.

And earlier still when something in the darkness of the deepest caves and gloomiest forests thought: what are they, these creatures? I will observe them. And much, much earlier than that, when the Discworld was formed, drifting onwards through space atop four elephants on the shell of the giant turtle, Great A'Tuin. Possibly, as it moves, it gets tangled like a blind man in a cobwebbed house in those highly specialized little spacetime strands that try to breed in every history they encounter, stretching them and breaking them and tugging them into new shapes. Or possibly not, of course. The philosopher Didactylos has summed up an alternative hypothesis as ‘Things just happen. What the hell.’

This conversation is far from over, but for now I really must go—I am feeling a mighty urge to reread a couple dozen things right now.

[valenshawke]

Identity Ask- 1&3!

identity asks… oh shit

3. list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

I’m limiting myself to five.

Claymore - Clare

Death Parade - Chiyuki

My Hero Academia - Izuku Midoriya

Violet Evergarden - Violet

And not to be an anime/manga-cliche-riddled-mess

Deadwood - Al Swearengen

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

I’m answering these as to what I was watching/reading/listening to during my late teens/early adulthood as they either proto-formed most of political and social ideology while other things better informed me later. But without these, probably would have turned out different.

Watch: Uh… man… this is gunna be terrible. But probably watch The X-Files, Law & Order, and the first two seasons of The West Wing. The X-Files kinda got me somewhat deep into conspiracy theory circles for a bunch of years before the right wing really got deep into it and it became a mess of fascist white supremacy. Law & Order cause I wanted to be Jack McCoy for a lot of years and he is an influence as to how I lectured when I was teaching. Plus, his righteous sanctimony is something identify with since people do consider a sanctimonious prima donna and drama queen. The West Wing is probably a shocker because that show first about 4 seasons (when Sorkin wrote it) was fucking idealistic as hell and a nice counterbalance to the Bush administration. I’ll also toss in Stargate SG-1 because I loved that show and it replaced The X-Files as must-see-TV after the movie.

Listen: Metallica. If you’re a male, and you like heavy metal, at some point… you listened to Metallica a lot (or Megadeth if you hated Metallica and thought Dave Mustaine was the superior guitarist and songwriter). This WAS the band of my high school years. And Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets, and … And Justice for All were all great in terms of social commentary on politics, corruptions, religion. I listened to Metallica a lot, and I mean a lot, while I was reading what I’m going to talk about in a bit.

The Black Album also means a lot to me since my first girlfriend in high school actually introduced me to the band and told me her all time favorite song was “The Unforgiven.” I listened to it and it’s still my all time favorite song by Metallica and, AND, I got to see them play it live in December. A moment I will never forget (I also recorded it and bought the official live recording of that concert).

Read: I give this answer a lot but it’s been awhile and I’ll give a why on what someone would read: Dune, specifically the Dune Chronicles. The original six books. I was actually going through my replies one night and someone @thetwistedmentat asked my thoughts on the fourth book, God Emperor of Dune. So I’ll try to cover it all briefly here…

Still going under a cut.

When I was 16 and read the first four books, it really did change how I viewed the world. About 2.5 years earlier, I became an atheist, which went over real well in Catholic school. I was already the ostracized kid in Catholic school, so this added to it. I guess I had a lot of questions on morality and how things really were.

When I read the first book, it really opened my eyes. No, I didn’t get the subtlety or all the commentary the first time I read it, but I got the broad strokes and I got older and learned more, I started to understand the references and the complexity of what Frank Herbert was saying.

Messianic figures are, by-in-large, a bad idea. Either because they become a prisoner to their ideas and mission or don’t have the courage to do what it is needed if they’re smart enough to realize, “Hey, being a single ruler with religious devotion is a terrible thing.”

Dependency on a single resource to move a system’s economy is… a terrible thing as well.

Social engineering (a more complex and devious form of socialization) is a terrible thing and can lead to terrible outcomes.

Religion and government being one and the same… is a terrible thing with terrible outcomes.

Cultural and evolutionary stagnation is… A terrible thing.

Complacency is… A terrible thing.

The ecology of a planet can give us clues and inform us of what a society holds sacred or important. Which also ties into #2.

People tend to drop Dune after the second book or criticize the first book for pretty much the same reason. Dune has been criticized as a colonial white-man’s fantasy because the “hero” wins at the end of the first book. As one gets closer to the end, Paul Atreides makes more more comments about a terrible decision he has to make, a Jihad that is coming, and billions that will die. People will die under and because of his name. When you get to book 2… Frank Herbert takes a wrecking ball to the entire notion that Paul is a hero. Paul compares himself to Hitler for love of Teresa of the Faint Smile. And no, this isn’t Frank Herbert was a Nazi or a sympathizer. For Frank Herbert, this was the clearest way for him to say Paul Atreides was evil, a coward, and weak. Frank Herbert literally said Paul is someone who “thinks he is God. “

And he leaves those terrible decisions to his son, Leto Atreides II.

In the third book, Leto and his twin sister, Ghanima, have the same power Paul had, the ability to see the future and the ability to tap into both sides of their genetic memory and Leto struggles with the decision to take on the skin of the Sandworm.

What is the decision? Save humanity. Because on it’s current path as outlined by points 1, 2, 3, 4, & 6… humanity will meet its end. Again this is a galactic empire but it can be controlled by one person who controls one resource.

Which actually leads into the second criticism I actually read very recently. That the books still fall into the strong-man political leader/fascist leader to solve the problems. And I’ll admit, that is a strong criticism if you discount the nuances Frank Herbert brings and the ultimate goal Frank Herbert apparently had in mind (According to Norman Spinrad, Frank Herbert actually detested the royalist politics he wrote about, which is pretty clear, and that the universe would eventually move to some kind of true democratic confederation).

Yes, both Paul and Leto (especially Leto) were strong man/fascist dictators for all intents and purposes. But both clearly could see into the future and had pretty much all of human history in their heads to realize humanity, as a group of people, naturally fall into the trap of charismatic leadership and authority. It’s actually rather easy to do if you examine just how Paul becomes a messiah to the Fremen (which is an explicit criticism of the Catholic Church and its role in European Colonialism).

And this gets into an overall theme in many of Frank Herbert’s work: Harsh social and environmental conditions can produce genius or people able to survive. At the micro-level, you have the Fremen, who can best the imperial militaries best.

At the big, macro-level, Leto’s oppression is meant to foment rebellion, is meant to make people angry generation after generation, is meant for people that want freedom, to never be under the rule of one person ever again, is meant to make him the ultimate symbol of evil everyone can agree upon (sound familiar anime fans?). They must call him Shaitan. He must be remembered as a Tyrant. As evil. He must die in a certain way. The problem with humanity, and you can see it to this day, is we forget the mistakes of the past. Leto’s goal:

“When I set out to lead humanity along my Golden Path, I promised them a lesson their bones would remember. I know a profound pattern which humans deny with their words even while their actions affirm it. They say they seek security and quiet, the condition they call peace. Even as they speak, they create the seeds of turmoil and violence. If they find their quiet security, they squirm in it. How boring they find it. Look at them now. Look at what they do while I record these words. Hah! I give them enduring eons of enforced tranquility which plods on and on despite their every effort to escape into chaos. Believe me, the memory of Leto’s peace shall abide with them forever. They will seek their quiet security thereafter only with extreme caution and steadfast preparation.” - Leto Atreides, The God Emperor of the Known Universe.

It only takes 3500+ years.

There’s also just a lot of gems about leadership, bureaucracy, and the idiotic repetition of history in God Emperor of Dune. The Dune Chronicles aren’t very action-based, there aren’t prolonged battles that are written out. Dune ends with a duel, Dune Messiah has a few moments of violence with stone burners, and a few deaths at the end, Children of Dune has a very sad written death of one of my favorite characters. God Emperor of Dune probably is the closest something heartpounding as Leto’s goal is ultimately achieved. Heretics of Dune again has some moments of violence. Chapterhouse: Dune actually has a battle sequence written out. After that, there are no more Dune books.

“But-”

THERE. ARE. NO. MORE. DUNE. BOOKS.

Why I became a sociologist? Why I ended up reading Marx & Lenin? Why I’m so critical of the intersection of politics, economics, and religion? Here you go.

This isn’t to say stuff HASN’T influenced me later. I’d also suggest reading books by Mira Grant and Ann Leckie, as well as Terry Pratchett’s Discworld and mangas such as Claymore by Norihiro Yagi and Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa or watch Code Geass, M*A*S*H, and The Wire. Just that the Dune Chronicles was the first, and probably, most important step.

[transmxnfenris]

EVERY BOTANICAL ASK

WHY DO YOU DO THIS Jasmine: what mythical creature do you wish existed? Ooooh, probs Selkies. They are so pure, good and lovely. I would strive to protect them all. Lavender: soundcloud or vinyls? Vinyl because I’m a True Hipster Primrose: what book does everyone need to read right now? The Book Thief because it changed my life. Lunar mist: do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets? You know the answer to this Richie, I am literally wearing your shirt right now you are right next to me you absolute dork Bird of Paradise: what was the best thing that happened to you this month? Moving to my new place 💖Gardenia: what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself? Um well it’s faith related and kinda secret and I can’t remember any others Lion’s fairytale: would you rather be the sky, the ocean, or the forests? The ocean for sure Whirling butterflies: would you kiss the last person you kissed again? A thousand times 💖Marmalade skies: do you plan your outits? Kinda, I wear the same three outfits all the time cause I am autistic Apricot drift: how do you feel right now? Pretty great. I’m happyEverlasting daisy: what’s the last dream you remember having? Oh you were there! I dreamed we went to Costco last night but it was closed down so you (Richie) cried Queen’s cup: what are you craving right now? McCoy’s Cheddar and Onion crisps like I always am Lavender dream: turn ons/turn offs? Turn ons: well created art Turn offs: unnecessary nastiness Water Lilly: when was the last time you cried? Why? I don’t know I cry all the time I cry because puppies are too cute sometimes Lily of the Valley: did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologise? No, and that’s okay because I don’t need him or his apology. I’m moving on now. Winterberry: do you bite or lick your ice cream? Bite Honey perfume: favourite movie ever? Mulan Snapdragon: have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity? My dads cousin is a quasi famous comedian but I can’t tell you who he is cos my and him have the same last name Night owl: how many countries have you visited?Nine? I think it’s nine Heliotrope: have you ever been in a castle? Yeah loads of times, last one was Hellsinger castle in Denmark where Hamlet’s set. It was awesome. Creams and sky: what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done? Skydiving probs Lantana: what’s on your mind right now? Finishing all these god damn questions you’ve set me you dingbat Pumpkin patch: what’s your zodiac sign? Aries Tulip: name five facts about yourself. Amethyst is my favourite crystal but that may change soonSunflowers are my favourite flowers but I’m starting to prefer daffodils I want to go to Japan I want twelve cats seven dogs and five rabbits I think Icarus deserved better Daphne: do you believe in karma? Kind of Queen of the meadow: ever been in love? I’m in love with you you dingbat Wisteria: whom do you admire and why? Carrie Fisher because she beat addiction and let herself be crazy Angel’s face: what was your favourite bed time story as a child? The Jolly Christmas Postman Remember me: did you make someone laugh today? Yeah you a handful of minutes ago Iris: do you believe in ghosts? Kinda Lilac: If you could go back in time which time period would you visit? Ancient Egypt or Shakespearean times so I could be bffs with Shakespeare or Tutankhamen Caramel kisses: would you want to live forever? Why/why not? When you believe the universe is all connected this question feels hard to answer Primula: what makes you sad? Other people/animals being hurt Rain lily: was today tropical? Why/why not? Not really, cause I live in England. It’s sunny though? Queen Anne’s Lace: who do you trust the most? You ofc 💖Lady’s slipper: what did you have for breakfast today? I skipped breakfast but I had a Tesco’s meal deal for lunch Forget me not: do you have any regrets looking back on life? Yes but I try not to Lunaria: what’s your favourite fictional universe? Why don’t you just ask me to pick a favourite child while you’re at it... probs Persona? Or Star Wars. Or Harry Potter. Or Discworld. Idk this is too hard. Violet: favourite tv show? Hmm ... For quality Mr Robot for rewatchability and comfort Friends Sunflower: share a quote. “I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it's true I'm here, and I'm just as strange as you.” - Frida KahloSnowdrop: what does your ideal day look like? A picnic with my boyfriend on a sunny day with no worries at all Tiger lily: do you have any hobbies? Writing, gaming, role playing, reading, and I like swimming Peony: share a small random book passage that means something to you. “oh I can believe things that are true and things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen - I believe that people are perfectable, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like martians in War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” - Sam Black Crow, American GodsIM GONNA STOP NOW cause I’m too tired and this too long

[aion-rsa]

The Watch Controversy Explained: How Different is the Show From Discworld?

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This article has been kept as spoiler-free as possible, but since it discusses differences between the Discworld books and The Watch TV show, there will be discussion of changes to characters and setting, and some vague allusions to plot.

Let’s say one thing first and foremost: if you’ve never read any of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, and you like quirky, funny SFF television, you’ll probably enjoy BBC America’s new show The Watch. It’s genuinely funny, well-acted, and well-made, even if it does have an obviously-television-sized CGI budget.

Here’s the problem though: if you are a fan of Pratchett’s Discworld books, on which the show is (very loosely) based, you’ll spend most of your first watch-through scratching your head in confusion.

The level of controversy around this new adaptation is unusual. Any book to screen adaptation always involves a certain amount of changes to the source material, because that’s simply in the nature of shifting something to a different medium. There will always be some fans who disapprove of any changes whatsoever, but the majority will generally grumble about a few irritations but enjoy the show anyway, and accept it as a new version of the story.

The controversy around The Watch, however, goes far further than a few fans grumbling because Glorfindel has been replaced with Arwen and Tom Bombadil has been cut. The series hasn’t even been released yet, but reactions of shock and surprise have followed the trailers, as a result of the sheer scale of the changes made to Pratchett’s world. Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna diplomatically summed up the situation on Twitter as, “it’s fairly obvious that The Watch shares no DNA with my father’s Watch. This is neither criticism nor support. It is what it is.”

Now that the first few episodes have been released to the press, there’s a bit more opportunity to survey just how substantial the changes are. Are they really that extensive? Well, yes and no. But mostly yes.

First of all, the series is not adapting the plot of any specific Watch novel, but taking elements from at least two of them (Guards! Guards! and Night Watch) and creating a new plot arc. This is a fairly sensible idea, in itself – there’s a case to be made for a series that tells a broad range of stories, with plots based on the novels. This also allows the setting to reflect some of the later additions to the city of Ankh-Morpork.

However, the plots of the two novels being used are not only fused together, they are substantially changed (Vimes and bad guy Carcer Dun now grew up together in an orphanage, for example, and sadly it is no longer the secretive Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night trying to summon a dragon). Some of the new elements added, including substantial references to Arthurian legend not present in the books, are also rather odd, leaving the viewer who knows the Discworld wondering just what’s going on here.

Character-wise, there’s at least one character that could almost have leaped from the pages of the book. New recruit Carrot Ironfoundersson is by far the closest to his book counterpart in the series, although possibly the explanation that his name refers to his tapering body rather than his red hair should have been left out, since actor Adam Hugill is tall but not especially muscular. Whether his backstory will also be the same, only time will tell.

Other characters clearly have bits of their original DNA in them. Vimes is reasonably close to his book counterpart, though the decision to have all the actors use their own natural accents does mean that people who grew up together have somehow managed to develop entirely different regional accents. The Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socio-economic unfairness is one of Pratchett’s best bits of socially conscious satire and is reproduced more or less in full, which is nice.

Lady Sybil Ramkin is an interesting case. Her general characterization has echoes of her book counterpart, but instead of being a somewhat reclusive upper class animal enthusiast, she’s now a weapon-wielding vigilante who has been given a tragic backstory and is considerably more of an action heroine than in the novels. Actress Lara Rossi also has a slim figure and is fairly young, as opposed to her book counterpart’s bigger curves and middle age, and she has lost some of her more deep-seated inhibitions (though her hair is still a wig, we’re glad to say). Still, her general attitude is not a million miles away from the Sybil books fans know, her sheer upper class confidence shining through in a familiar way.

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Some of the changes made to the book characters’ physical descriptions help to diversify the cast. Pratchett’s Discworld is a bit dominated by white male characters, so it’s not surprising that a couple of characters have been gender-flipped, in addition to the show casting racially diverse actors. The gender-flipping of Lord Vetinari might reasonably result in some fan disappointment as he is described so vividly in the books and readers might have a very clear mental image of him. But overall, changes to race or gender are usually not insurmountable for fans, and there are good reasons for those changes.

So far, then, all of this sounds like the sort of changes that might be expected from a novel to screen adaptation. There are adaptations that might stick more closely to their originals, but this would be nothing out of the ordinary.

But there’s more.

The character changes go on and on – Angua is officially still the same species, but her often-described long flowing hair is absent and she is physically tiny. The nature of her species has also changed substantially, following a more common and angst-filled recent template seen in many other shows, rather than Pratchett’s more complex depiction (Angua’s feelings about her family and nature being a major theme of The Fifth Elephant).

Angua is at least still the same basic species though, unlike her colleague Cheery Littlebottom. In the books, Cheery is a dwarf, but in the show, they are a human. The motivation for this change may have been well intentioned. Discworld dwarfs all identify as male, whether they are biologically male or female, and those who are biologically female have secondary masculine characteristics like facial hair and so on. Cheery goes against dwarf convention by openly identifying as female, wearing skirts and high heels and make-up and using feminine pronouns, eventually changing her name to Cheri. So she is, essentially, transgender, except in a fantasy way that doesn’t exactly map on to any real life situations. This is very characteristic of the 1990s tendency to address LGBTQ+ issues through fantasy and science fiction ideas rather than directly (see also some of Star Trek’s Trill episodes).

It’s possible that the decision to make Cheery a human, played by non-binary actor Jo Eaton-Kent, rather than a fantasy metaphor, came from a desire not to offend anyone by hiding behind fantasy tropes, combined with a desire to cast a non-binary actor in the role (the number of non-binary available actors with dwarfism being, presumably, quite low). 

However, this does have the side effect of substantially changing Cheery’s character. Cheery/Cheri clearly identifies as female – Cheery in the show appears to be a transgender woman, as the first episode has them clearly state a preference for feminine pronouns, but the show’s publicity states that Cheery is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. They are no longer agitating for change among their own particular community (of dwarfs), nor do they have any regular dwarf characteristics (love of bread, etc.). Cheery in the books continues to sport a full beard because she is a dwarf and its culturally significant to her, while Cheery in the series is horrified by the thought of a beard, so their non-binary gender identity has also subtly shifted.

All in all, the change probably comes from a good place, but it is somewhat distracting for book fans, who may see little connection between the two versions of the character. The series also doesn’t include a single dwarf character, which is very odd – in addition to Cheery, there are several dwarf Watchmen in the books, most prominently Lance-Constable Cuddy, who could have been included in the series (Warwick Davis would have made a great Cuddy).

Also missing in action are two of the main characters from the Watch, Sergeant Colon and Corporal ‘Nobby’ Nobbs. Perhaps this exclusion sums up the way the series simply doesn’t seem to represent or “get” Pratchett’s Watch in any meaningful way. Unlike the new television characters, Colon and Nobby are not action heroes. They are heroes of another kind, and they carry out acts of bravery in different ways, whether by shooting at a dragon, going undercover dressed as washerwomen, or just providing Vimes with the right information at the right time. While they represent some of the worst the Watch has to offer – racism, or rather speciesism, and corruption – they are also a handy reminder of the Night Watch’s humble origins, and a rich source of comic relief (fulfilling pretty much the same role as Hitchcock and Scully in Brooklyn Nine Nine). The Watch without them is incomplete.

Even more distracting than the character changes are the widespread changes to the setting. The Assassins’ Guild’s form, style and function are quite different to the books’ version. Ankh-Morpork also appears to be situated in the middle of a desert, which is distinctly not the case in the novels. Pratchett’s city is a blend of London, New York City, and Rome, and is surrounded by the fertile Sto Plains, and in Jingo, our heroes travel to a desert country, where the culture is markedly different from their own. We can only assume that this was a budgetary decision. The series was filmed in South Africa, so the desert sequences are a combination of location filming and CGI, and presumably much cheaper than trying to recreate a European plain.

Most distractingly of all, however, the series seems to have moved into a sort of blend of science fiction and urban fantasy. Each episode opens with the text ‘Somewhere in a distant secondhand dimension’, suggesting science fiction, while set and costume design have an urban, contemporary look, with electronic devices and lighting readily available, characters wearing bomber jackets, and elements of modern culture, including punk rock and old people’s homes.

This is a problem because the Discworld started out as spoofs of sword ‘n’ sorcery paperback fantasy books. The stories were deliberately set in a very familiar High Fantasy-style pseudo-medieval world, and a world which remained stubbornly pseudo-medieval for a long time despite occasional invasions of rock music, moving pictures, and shopping malls. 

There were always odd bits of magically-driven technology in the Discworld, like cameras (with images painted very quickly by imps) and dis-organizers (also driven by imps). Towards the later parts of the series the world did start to evolve into something a little bit more early modern, with the permanent introduction of clacks machines (for sending telegrams), printing presses and even, in the penultimate book, steam trains. The first Watch book Guards! Guards! even includes, as the series does, a brightly lit neon sign – but it is clearly stated to be a magical item. So there is some precedent for the style of the TV series, but the extent of the punk rock aesthetic it adopts is surprising.

Discworld is not the only property to be radically reimagined for television. Other adaptations have taken a fair few liberties too, and some have even undergone the same sort of radical re-tooling as the Discworld has here. For example, Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories have been reimagined in similarly extreme ways, including updating the setting, and gender-flipping Holmes’ sidekick Watson.

But the Sherlock Holmes stories have been adapted many, many times in different ways over the years. Adaptations that follow the books more closely are easily available, so there’s more appetite for something new and different. The original stories also, importantly, weren’t period pieces when they were written – they were contemporary detective stories. There’s a certain logic, then, to updating the setting and creating a new, contemporary, crime story rather than a period drama.

But the Discworld is a created secondary world, and a fairly recent one (the books were published 1983-2015). There have been a handful of screen versions, both live action and animated, but none of the Watch books. There seems no pressing reason to reimagine it in this way.

The truth is, to get fans excited about a book to screen adaptation, you have to show them something that feels like it’s leapt off the page. The Lord of the Rings film adaptations and the early seasons of Game of Thrones, for example, both made changes to the source material, but when you looked at a few minutes’ footage, you could tell which character was which and they felt recognizable. This doesn’t mean they have to be exactly like their book counterpart – Frodo was 50 years old in the book, whereas Elijah Wood wasn’t even 20 when he started filming. But when fans watched the first trailer for The Fellowship of the Ring, all those years ago, they could pinpoint exactly which character was which from a few seconds’ footage, and were (mostly) overjoyed to see the characters they loved come to life.

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Ultimately, the issue with the series is this: if you changed the names, it would not be recognizable as an adaptation of Pratchett’s Discworld stories. For anyone who hasn’t read the books, this is no problem – but it’s a strange decision, for fans of the books will have little incentive to watch something that takes the names of beloved characters, but doesn’t include anything recognizably adapting the stories they love. In the end, if the resemblance between books and series becomes so slim you can barely see the relationship between them, you’re no longer watching an adaptation, but a new series that’s pinched some beloved characters’ names.

The Watch premieres Saturday, Jan. 3 at 8 p.m. ET on BBC America.

The post The Watch Controversy Explained: How Different is the Show From Discworld? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[webbygraphic001]

The Witches’ Guide to Design

No, no. I didn’t go researching modern-day witchcraft or anything like I did with Taoism. No, I’m taking web design lessons from a set of entirely fictional witches who live on a flat, circular world which rests on the back of four elephants, who in turn stand on the back of the Great A’Tuin, a turtle that swims through space.

It’s called the Discworld, and it is the subject of forty-one of the best darned books I’ve ever read in my life. The witches of the kingdom of Lancre are the protagonists of several of these books. They’re a cross between village doctors, local magistrates, and (on relatively rare occasions) magical troubleshooters.

If they were designers, they’d be the scariest and probably the best designers in the business. Here’s what I’ve learned from them:

[Note: All illustrations are by Paul Kidby.]

Trust Yourself

If you want to change the world around you, you first have to know who you are. And then, you have to have absolute confidence in who you are, knowing both your capabilities and your limits. Esmeralda Weatherwax defines this trait. It is her nearly unshakable confidence and her will, which make her the most powerful witch known. Officially, the witches don’t have leaders, and Granny Weatherwax is the leader that they definitely don’t have.

Designers, of course, have to learn how to be wrong, and then deal with it. Granny does, too. The problem is, if you get too used to thinking you’re wrong all the time, it can become a hard habit to break. You can’t do your best work by second-guessing yourself at every turn. You have to see if you’re actually right or wrong first, and go from there.

Granny trusts her knowledge and experience, and when she is proven wrong, she trusts the new knowledge and experience. Eventually.

Granny Weatherwax

Enjoy Yourself

What’s the point of any of this if you can’t enjoy yourself? Looking after a whole community isn’t easy, but Gytha “Nanny” Ogg finds the time to eat and drink rather heavily, dance whenever she feels like it, and sing loudly enough to send her entire village literally running for cover. She’s been married three times, has fifteen children, and still she checks under her bed for strange men at night because “you never know your luck”. She takes full advantage of everything she can get from being the village witch, and matriarch to half the people in the village besides.

In learning about (and selling) the importance of our work as designers, it’s easy to get lost in all of the grand ideas. We’re trying to make sites that are accessible, usable, beautiful, and hopefully profitable, and each of these is almost a discipline unto itself. It’s worth taking the time to just sit there and marvel at all the cool stuff the web can do, and enjoy being a part of it.

Nanny Ogg

People Want Magic…

The witches of the Discworld very rarely use “actual” magic, beyond their flying brooms. They can. Granny Weatherwax in particular is terrifyingly powerful. Mostly, though, they practice a generalist sort of medicine, and a whole lot of what they call “Headology”. People are always coming and asking for magical solutions to things that can be fixed by far more practical means. Headology is mostly a means of making people think something magical is going on, leaving the witches free to do what’s necessary in peace.

For most users, everything we do seems magical. The very act of making a static web page seems mystical to them, especially if you do it with [gasp] a text editor. And the simple truth is that like the villagers in Lancre, they don’t want that illusion broken most of the time. They want something to magically fix their problem. If you can help them to solve their problems, but make it feel like them was magic, you’ve got a winning formula.

… But People Have to Work Things Out For Themselves

The younger witches often ask questions like, “But why can’t we just use magic to solve all of these problems?” The answer, of course, is that magic can cause as many problems as it solves. Magic is a blunt instrument, and most situations with people need something more like a scalpel, a screwdriver, or even a small paintbrush.

Ask any therapist. Lasting change comes when you guide people to the solutions, and let them do the rest. Trying to force your solutions on them basically always backfires. For example, I could point at the many ways algorithms are going horribly wrong in the world of social media. You can do your best as a designer to make things easier for your users, but you can’t do everything for them, and you shouldn’t try.

Know When to Go For Help

Over the course of the books, there are a few witches in training, including Magrat Garlick, Agnes Knitt, and Tiffany Aching. While they all have amazing story arcs that I just don’t have space for in this article, there was one thing they all had to learn: when to ask for help. The witches of Lancre are fiercely independent, and they are mostly expected to handle problems—even the big ones—for themselves, but occasionally they run into problems too big for any one witch.

Designers are going to run into those sorts of problems a lot more often, frankly. There’s so much to learn out there, and it’s rare that any one designer will come up with perfect solutions all on their own. Everything we do is built on the work of thousands who came before, and keeping all of that in one head just isn’t going to happen. You have to stand on your own as a designer, and take responsibility for what you build, but you can’t do everything alone.

When in doubt, try to get at least two outside opinions. Remember: you need three witches for a coven; two witches is just an argument.

  Featured image via DepositPhotos.

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[readbookywooks]

As Esk tried to work out how to move the staff the ripples spread out in the magical ether, changing the Discworld in thousands of tiny ways. Most went entirely unnoticed. Perhaps a few grains of sand lay on their beaches in a slightly different position, or the occasional leaf hung on its tree in a marginally different way. But then the wavefront of probability struck the edge of Reality and rebounded like the slosh off the side of the pond which, meeting the laggard ripples coming the other way, caused small but important whirlpools in the very fabric of existence. You can have whirlpools in the fabric of existence, because it is a very strange fabric. Esk was completely ignorant of all this, of course, but was quite satisfied when the staff dropped out of thin air into her hand. It felt warm. She looked at it for some time. She felt that she ought to do something about it; it was too big, too distinctive, too inconvenient. It attracted attention. “If I'm taking you to Ankh-Morpork,” she said thoughtfully, “You've got to go in disguise.” A few late flickers of magic played around the staff, and then it went dark. Eventually Esk solved the immediate problem by finding a stall in the main Zemphis marketplace that sold broomsticks, buying the largest, carrying it back to her doorway, removing the handle and ramming the staff deep into the birch twigs. It didn't seem right to treat a noble object in this way, and she silently apologised to it. It made a difference, anyway. No one looked twice at a small girl carrying a broom. She bought a spice pasty to eat while exploring (the stallholder carelessly shortchanged her, and only realised later that he had inexplicably handed over two silver pieces; also, rats mysteriously got in and ate all his stock during the night, and his grandmother was struck by lightning). The town was smaller than Ohulan, and very different because it lay on the junction of three trade routes quite apart from the river itself. It was built around one enormous square which was a cross between a permanent exotic traffic jam and a tent village. Camels kicked mules, mules kicked horses, horses kicked camels and they all kicked humans; there was a riot of colours, a din of noise, a nasal orchestration of smells and the steady, heady sound of hundreds of people working hard at making money. One reason for the bustle was that over large parts of the continent other people preferred to make money without working at all, and since the Disc had yet to develop a music recording industry they were forced to fall back on older, more traditional forms of banditry. Strangely enough these often involved considerable effort. Rolling heavy rocks to the top of cliffs for a decent ambush, cutting down trees to block the road, and digging a pit lined with spikes while still keeping a wicked edge on a dagger probably involved a much greater expenditure of thought and muscle than more socially-acceptable professions but, nevertheless, there were still people misguided enough to endure all this, plus long nights in uncomfortable surroundings, merely to get their hands on perfectly ordinary large boxes of jewels. So a town like Zemphis was the place where caravans split, mingled and came together again, as dozens of merchants and travellers banded together for protection against the socially disadvantaged on the trails ahead. Esk, wandering unregarded amidst the bustle, learned all this by the simple method of finding someone who looked important and tugging on the hem of his coat. This particular man was counting bales of tobacco and would have succeeded but for the interruption. “What?” “I said, what happening here?” The man meant to say: “Push off and bother someone else.” He meant to give her a light cuff about the head. So he was astonished to find himself bending down and talking seriously to a small, grubby-faced child holding a large broomstick (which also, it seemed to him later, was in some indefinable way paying attention). He explained about the caravans. The child nodded. “People all get together to travel?” “Precisely.” “Where to?” “All sorts of places. Sto Lat, Pseudopolis . . . Ankh-Morpork, of course . . . .” “But the river goes there,” said Esk, reasonably. “Barges. The Zoons.” “Ah, yes,” said the merchant, “but they charge high prices and they can't carry everything and, anyway, no one trusts them much.” “But they're very honest!” “Huh, yes,” he said. “But you know what they say: never trust an honest man.” He smiled knowingly. “Who says that?” “They do. You know. People,” he said, a certain uneasiness entering his voice. “Oh,” said Esk. She thought about it. “They must be very silly,” she said primly. “Thank you, anyway.” He watched her wander off and got back to his counting. A moment later there was another tug at his coat. “Fiftysevenfiftysevenfiftysevenwell?” he said, trying not to lose his place. “Sorry to bother you again,” said Esk, “but those bale things ....” “What about them fiftysevenfiftysevenfiftyseven?” “Well, are they supposed to have little white worm things in them?” “Fiftysev - what?” The merchant lowered his slate and stared at Esk, “What little worms?” “Wriggly ones. White,” added Esk, helpfully. “All sort of burrowing about in the middle of the bales.” “You mean tobacco threadworm?” He looked wild-eyed at the stack of bales being unloaded by, now he came to think about it, a vendor with the nervous look of a midnight sprite who wants to get away before you find out what fairy gold turns into in the morning. “But he told me these had been well stored and - how do you know, anyway? ” The child had disappeared among the crowds. The merchant looked hard at the spot where she had been. He looked hard at the vendor, who was grinning nervously. He looked hard at the sky. Then took his sampling knife out of his pocket, stared at it for a moment, appeared to reach a decision, and sidled towards the nearest bale. Esk, meanwhile, had by random eavesdropping found the caravan being assembled for Ankh-Morpork. The trail boss was sitting at a table made up of a plank across two barrels. He was busy. He was talking to a wizard. Seasoned travellers know that a party setting out to cross possibly hostile country should have a fair number of swords in it but should definitely have a wizard in case there is any need for magic arts and, even if these do not become necessary, for lighting fires. A wizard of the third rank or above does not expect to pay for the privilege of joining the party. Rather, he expects to be paid. Delicate negotiations were even now coming to a conclusion. “Fair enough, Master Treatle, but what of the young man?” said the trail boss, one Adab Gander, an impressive figure in a trollhide jerkin, rakishly floppy hat and a leather kilt. “He's no wizard, I can see.” “He is in training,” said Treatle- a tall skinny wizard whose robes declared him to be a mage of the Ancient and Truly Original Brothers of the Silver Star, one of the eight orders of wizardry. “Then no wizard he,” said Gander. “I know the rules, and you're not a wizard unless you've got a staff. And he hasn't.” “Even now he travels to the Unseen University for that small detail,” said Treatle loftily. Wizards parted with money slightly less readily than tigers parted with their teeth. Gander looked at the lad in question. He had met a good many wizards in his time and considered himself a good judge and he had to admit that this boy looked like good wizard material. In other words, he was thin, gangling, pale from reading disturbing books in unhealthy rooms, and had watery eyes like two lightly-poached eggs. It crossed Gander's mind that one must speculate in order to accumulate. All he needs to get right to the top, he thought, is a bit of a handicap. Wizards are martyrs to things like asthma and flat feet, it somehow seems to give them their drive. “What's your name, lad?” he said, as kindly as possible. “Sssssssssssssss” said the boy. His Adam's apple bobbed like a captive balloon. He turned to his companion, full of mute appeal. “Simon,” said Trestle. “- imon,” agreed Simon, thankfully. “Can you cast fireballs or whirling spells, such as might be hurled against an enemy?” Simon looked sideways at Trestle. “Nnnnnnnnnn” he ventured. “My young friend follows higher magic than the mere hurling of sorceries,” said the wizard. “-o,” said Simon. Gander nodded. “Well,” he said, “maybe you will indeed be a wizard, lad. Maybe when you have your fine staff you'll consent to travel with me one time, yes? I will make an investment in you, yes?” “Just nod,” said Gander, who was not naturally a cruel man. Simon nodded gratefully. Treatle and Gander exchanged nods and then the wizard strode off, with his apprentice trailing behind under a weight of baggage. Gander looked down at the list in front of him and carefully crossed out “wizard”. A small shadow fell across the page. He glanced up and gave an involuntary start. “Well?” he said coldly. “I want to go to Ankh-Morpork,” said Esk, “please. I've got some money.” “Go home to your mother, child.” “No, really. I want to seek my fortune.” Gander sighed. “Why are you holding that broomstick?” he said. Esk looked at it as though she had never seen it before. “Everything's got to be somewhere,” she said. “Just go home, my girl,” said Gander. “I'm not taking any runaways to Ankh-Morpork. Strange things can happen to little girls in big cities.” Esk brightened. “What sort of strange things?” “Look, I said go home, right? Now!” He picked up his chalk and went on ticking off items on his slate, trying to ignore the steady gaze that seemed to be boring through the top of his head. “I can be helpful,” said Esk, quietly. Gander threw down the chalk and scratched his chin irritably. “How old are you?” he said. “Nine.” “Well, Miss nine-years-old, I've got two hundred animals and a hundred people that want to go to Ankh, and half of them hate the other half, and I've not got enough people who can fight, and they say the roads are pretty bad and the bandits are getting really cheeky up in the Paps and the trolls are demanding a bigger bridge toll this year and there's weevils in the supplies and I keep getting these headaches and where, in all this, do I need you?” “Oh,” said Esk. She looked around the crowded square. “Which one of these roads goes to Ankh, then?” “The one over there, with the gate.” “Thank you,” she said gravely. “Goodbye. I hope you don't have any more trouble and your head gets better.” “Right,” said Gander uncertainly. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he watched Esk walk away in the direction of the Ankh road. A long, winding road. A road haunted by thieves and gnolls. A road that wheezed through high mountain passes and crawled, panting, over deserts.

[canvaswolfdoll]

Am I a Reader?

I seem to somehow garnered a reputation as a ‘reader’, even though I don’t think of myself in such terms anymore. Others may see me as such because I am writer,[1] but, to be honest, I don’t really read voraciously as I once did.

But, hey, I’ve talked about my history with various other interests, why not add what my life with books has been to that list?

I grew up in a house of books, parents reading for entertainment, excited to get to first grade and finally learn to read myself. Literacy was always seen as an important skill to possess, something to grant you entrance to the full world, and even other worlds.

My parents weren’t particularly restrictive with the television, and there was no demonizing of watching it. They merely led by example with media, outside some reasonable policing of content, which is important.

Also, PBS growing up was airing Reading Rainbow (boring and dumb)[2] and Wishbone (awesome incarnate). So even before I could read, I was being introduced to not just the thought of being able to read, but literary classics! Simplified versions, yes, but Wishbone and his costumes were more there to give the general impression of the story and the sense of grandeur that literature carries.

One of my favorite childhood toys is a Wishbone plushie. The show really means a lot to me, and I am still massively disappointed I’ve never seen the Phantom of the Opera episode in full! Gah!

Anyways, everything growing up taught me that being a reader is a noble and admirable trait. There was nothing more insulting than hearing a friend, someone I was supposed to trust, claim that reading is dumb and boring!

So, I learned to read, starting with picture books, and working my way up as I felt comfortable. The first series that won my heart was Nate the Great, a series about a child detective giving noir-esque narrations as he solved mysteries over plates of pancakes. Good books, everyone should a read a few of them.

Of course, considering the era when I was a youth, Harry Potter eventually crossed the horizon, establishing the all-consuming franchise and consuming us all!

I’m reviewing those books!

Anywho, my older siblings started reading the books, and I soon followed suit by the promise of there being a werewolf in Book 3! There was!

I finished book 4, and I faced, for the very first time, the wait for a new installment. Up until then, book series weren’t something I had to express patience on. I never had to worry about a continuing narrative that I can’t immediately access, or the concept of stories not yet published. They’re supposed to just be at the library, waiting for you to discover.

And it was that big wait between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Pheonix. Small Canvas didn’t have the patience for that! So, I grew distant from the series, and didn’t pick it up when the next book finally came.

Instead, I read a few other miscellaneous books, before coming upon Redwall.

This was, of course, spurred by my brother reading the series, and me quickly deciding to follow suit. It’s cute tiny animals waging bloody war! What’s not to love?

Redwall’s an… interesting series. It left quite the influence on me, both for what it had (rich and specific descriptions of food[3])and what it lacked (moral complexity). Because one thing that bothered me, even when I was young, was that the “good” critters were always good (mice, otters, squirrels, hares, and so forth) and the “bad” vermin were always barbaric evil (rats, foxes, and ferrets[4]). Besides voles, there were no grey areas, and that just seemed unfair. Why can’t a rat be a good guy? Why can’t a hare scheme to take the Abbey? Why did Veil get such a sour deal? Poor kid was actively despised by his adopted family, acted out because of it, went to meet his father, who then betrayed him, and then the mousemaid who raised him goes back to the abbey to preach about how unsalvageable he was! It was nothing less than a tragedy.

Plus, Swartt’s the only main ferret baddie the series ever got, so even that’s disappointing in retrospect!

Oddly enough, I’ve never actually read Redwall the book, starting instead with Marlfox and jumping around as I saw fit. In fact, I don’t think I’ve read any of the particularly big books of the Canon (Redwall, Mattimeo, Mossflower, and so forth). Just never could manage to get through, especially when the one time I tried to read the first book, it vanished under mysterious circumstances after I left it out during recess.

That mystery was never solved.

Soon, I tired of the formula of Redwall, and stopped reading the series. In middle school, I switched to comics (both web and print), and nudged at a couple fantasy books, but I don’t think I latched onto anything in particular. I did get through the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, as well as Phantom of the Opera (finally), but no long running series.

I think I may also have tried Lord of the Rings in middle school, but it was unreadably dull and tedious, and to this day I cannot get through any rendition of the narrative.

Because Lord of the Rings is bad storytelling. Even had a friend who dreamed of being an author when he grew up, like me, and he loved the series, and tried often to get me to try it.

Nope.

An interesting thing I like to gloat about is how I got through school without once completely reading any book assigned to me, served mostly by taking in the teacher’s lecture on the assigned reading afterwards, and my own internal understanding of narrative. Now, I don’t actually suggest anyone do this, but the fact of the matter was I preferred to read by my own volition, read generally slowly, and have no fondness of the dead frogs that is the literary canon.

It's a comparison I often like to draw. A good story is an artistic expression, carefully crafted in hopes of invoking emotions from the audience, and, in doing so, creates a sort of magic.

But then there’s literature, or, rather, literature classes, which take books, once vibrant and engaging, and begin to dissect them, dissemble the pieces and analyze them, label them, and define terms and reverse engineer the functions. Sure, this can help give you an understanding of storytelling and thus maybe appreciate other stories more, but once you cut it open and dig around, even if you put it all back, you’re still left with a dead frog, the life gone and irretrievable.

Literature is just another name for dead books.

So I don’t tend to become invested in school-assigned reading for that reason. Besides, reading things that mock the literature is much more interesting!

To the point that I somehow ended up reading Wyrd Sisters as my class was covering Macbeth. So that was fun.

As previously discussed, during high school my attention came to the Discworld books. As they were very good, that’s almost entirely what I read, with occasional detours to the Haruhi Suzumiya books just to see what was happening there.

You can just read my essay on Discworld to get my full thoughts on the topic.

However, I was less thrilled by the Haruhi books that I did read.

I don’t know if it’s the source material, or the translation, or what, but the first couple books are a little tedious to read. A weird mixture of showing and not telling, while also being overly vague about certain things, as well as excessive use of the passive voice, makes the books very dull and uninteresting.

May not have helped that I felt obligated to read them to bridge the gap between the first season of the anime and the movie.

When I was in school, I’d always carry my reading book around, sometimes reading it under my desk instead of paying attention in class, though that became harder to do as I got older and teachers began to care if I was paying attention.

However, after graduating High School, I eventually stopped having whatever paperback I was reading in my coat pocket, and…

Quick aside, I prefer paperback books, at least when it comes to novels. They’re more comfortable to hold, take up less space, are lighter, and… I don’t know, it’s just my preference. I don’t bend the cover back or anything. I’m actually rather obsessive with the up keep of books, and try to keep them in pretty good condition (though spines are, admittedly, hard to maintain). It even seems blasphemous to write in the margins, or highlight. I can’t bring myself to do it, and it really irritates me when I see such things in books.[6]

Anyways, eventually it came that my reading occurred before bed, if I felt like it and am reading. There’s just so many other media vying for my time, that I can’t fit it all in. So many shows to try to get through, webcomics to follow, video games to play, and my own stories to craft and show no one.

So… yeah. I still read the occasional book. Making up for Harry Potter now, and between those books I’ve been making my way through the Spice&Wolf light novels (some of the same problems as the Haruhi books above, but not as bad)[7] and the Log Horizon Light novels are interesting from a world building perspective, though the formatting has a lot to be desired.[8]

However, it’s not as voracious as it once was, so I have a hard time to committing to the identity of “reader” anymore.

But, hey, it’s what people make of you sometimes.

Kataal kataal.

[1] As this post probably goes to show. [2] Yeah, I said it. I didn’t like it as a kid! I don’t care what random children had to say about picture books! [3] I am incapable of handwaving food. I’m compelled to specify what’s being eaten. [4] Am I still heavily associated with ferrets, or has that changed? I can’t keep track. [5] And I don’t recall if I ever bothered to talk about them in the CanvasWatches on it. [6] I bought a copy of Huck Finn specifically because the school supplied copy was just drowning in highlighter ink. Didn’t read it, of course, but still, what monster does that? [7] Also, I may be scheming to steal some of the plotlines for RPGs. [8] It rarely says who’s saying what! Come on, this is basic writing! 

[the-light-followed]

MORT (1987) [DISC. #4; DEATH #1]

“‘Why did you have to save me?’  The answer worried him.  He thought about it as he squelched all the way home.  …As he lay shivering in bed it settled in his dreams like an iceberg. In the midst of his fever he muttered, ‘What did he mean, FOR LATER?’”

Rating: 6/10

Standalone Okay: Yes

Read First: Sure, why not!

Discworld Books Masterpost: [x]

* * * * * * * * * *

I’m just going to get it out of the way right off the bat: as much as I hate to admit it, the Death books are my least favorite of the Discworld sub-series.  (I mean, I still love them, a lot, but I don’t love them as much.)  And I know, I know—Death is an excellent character, and I love all of his cameos in the other Discworld books.  I love Susan Sto Helit, because I’m a sensible human lady with eyes and I recognize a brilliant, beautiful powerhouse of a woman when I read about her.  But the Death books just…aren’t my favorite.

And it’s doubly strange that I still think that’s true, even though Reaper Man might be my favorite Discworld book, depending on the day.  It’s definitely top three.

Mort, though, is—kind of boring.  Actually, no.  Let me rephrase that, without the italics this time: Mort is kind of boring.  The story itself is unique, and the concept is fantastically interesting, and I’m almost sad about that.  Because Mort, the character, is unimpressive.  I spend half the time reading this book wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.  It might just be that he’s a teenage idiot—I do sort of have the same feeling with him (and especially all his interactions with Princess Keli) that I do any time I’m forced to read Romeo and Juliet. It’s a sort of constant, high-pitched, internal shriek of rage and distress.

Stop that!  Stop what you’re doing right now!  Grow some common goddamn sense!!

But he never does.  I am continually disappointed.

Even beyond his regrettable life choices, the kid is just dull.  Some early text flavor we get for Mort includes gems such as: “Mort was interested in lots of things.  Why people’s teeth fitted together so neatly, for example.  He’d given that one a lot of thought.  Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful.  He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didn’t seem satisfying.”

Yikes, buddy.  Yikes. Might as well be interested in watching paint dry.

It’s wild to me that of everyone and everything involved in Mort, Pratchett picked—well, Mort—to be his main character.  Mort, who complains that he’s not an ordinary human being living an ordinary human life.  He’s got a super awesome thing going for him, given that he’s Death’s actual apprentice, and he wants to be normal and boring?  By the time he makes this complaint, he’s already messed up reality and, frankly, a very easy job by being a lovestruck twit over a girl whose eyes he met exactly once across a crowded room—just before her father was brutally murdered.  He’s clearly already the king of bad decision-making.  It’s baffling that he wants to be even more boring, too.

We’ve got so many cool and interesting characters that we could have focused on instead!  Actual, literal Death!  Ysabell, his immortally teenage daughter, who’s been sixteen for thirty-five years!  We’ve even got Albert, a formerly great and terrible wizard so terrified of death (and Death) that he chose to become Death’s eternal servant rather than die!  Any one of those would make a cool as hell main character.  We could have had it all, but instead we focus on a dunderheaded teenager, distracted by hormones and totally lacking in common sense.

I get that Mort is acting as a sort of audience surrogate, coming from a vanilla human background, learning as he goes, and only just beginning to move in the occult and magical circles.  But I would be about one hundred million times more interested in following Ysabell’s journey from normal human orphan to the never-aging daughter of Death, both rescued and trapped by her father in his land outside of reality, where time never moves and there’s no one to interact with except the stories of the outside world as they write themselves in the library.

She’s a cool goth romantic trapped in the body of a sixteen-year-old for decades.  Her favorite thing to do is read real, historical accounts of love stories where everyone dies horribly.  Death is her dad and why is this book not about her?

Mort, I’d argue, doesn’t really get interesting himself until he and Death start picking up some of each other’s traits.  And even then, if Mort-going-inhuman is cool, it’s overshadowed entirely by Death becoming a person rather than simply an anthropomorphic personification.  It’s, just, damn.  Death’s arc is beautiful and poignant and has lasting implications for the Discworld. Meanwhile, Mort’s whole…thing…will soon be fridged so that his daughter, Susan Sto Helit, can begin her reign as unstoppable badass and also queen of my heart.

Susan is great.  On second thought, I wish this book was about Susan.

Conceptually, everything about this story is wonderful.  I love the plot elements, the concept itself is so unique and executed well, and Mort does an amazing job of setting up the rest of the Death series within the Discworld.  It’s impossible to read Mort and not think about what it means to be a person—recognizing that everyone must and will die, that there’s no rhyme or reason to it, but also knowing that fighting back against that inevitability is built into us on a fundamental level.

Not yet.  Not today. Fairness might not matter; justice might not matter.  But part of what makes us human is that we think they should.  We want them to.  

And, by the end of Mort, Death agrees.

Part of the reason I keep coming back to Mort is that I do like seeing the seeds of what Death will become in later Discworld books. Mort, Ysabell, and Albert—and eventually Susan as well—all give Death the experience and the space to become more than what he was meant to be.  Rather than just an anthropomorphic personification, just a thing, Death becomes a person.  He has wants and desires and needs, and he acts on them, sometimes despite the fact that it causes problems with The Duty—his literal, actual reason to exist.  He grows and changes.  He cares.

Compared to the Death we see in The Colour of Magic, who seems relentlessly antagonistic to poor Rincewind—who implies, several times over, that he is actually, actively, trying to kill people himself—the Death we meet at the beginning of Mort is already a relief. He’s perfectly neutral, not threatening at all.  He’s an entity who performs a necessary service without any sort of emotion at all.  But by the end of Mort, the Death we see is—well, I find him flat-out comforting.

It’s the little things.  He goes fishing.  He makes jokes, even if they’re creepy and morbid and so specific to his field that most people don’t understand them at all.  He likes cats.  He’s a good cook.

[Death’s Glory, by Paul Kidby, off his website. Shit, I love his official Discworld art. This, I think, shows his attempt at making a fishing lure that Pratchett describes in a way that seems—nightmarish at best.]

And it’s the big things, too.  Death makes mistakes.  He plays hooky from his work, which is a bit more impressive when you remember that it’s the literal reason for his existence.  He knows right from wrong, and when it comes down to it, I think it’s less important that he chooses to do what’s right over the letter of the law (though I also appreciate that he does), and more important that he can choose at all.

“THERE IS NO JUSTICE,” Death likes to say, “JUST ME.” But when Death is a person, and on top of that, a good person, it almost feels like the same thing.

You have to love the see-saw of Mort and Death going wrong in equal but opposite ways, both of them fascinating (and horrifying). Mort starts losing his humanity as he picks up aspects of Death, leaving him with more and more of the power and knowledge, but none of the steadiness and impartiality that Death has shown so far. And as Death gains humanity, gains personhood, he starts to feel and to understand those feelings.  

It’s beautiful to see, but it’s also desperately sad.  I think it’s almost cruel to give an emotional range to an undying being who must be there for the end of every life, who must be alone for most of time.

But he gets the good things out of existence, too. Over the course of the Death books, he seems to think it’s worth it more often than it’s not.  So it’s a good thing that even after everything’s sorted out and the humans have been given back their normal lives, Death keeps what he has taken.

One of my favorite quotes:

“WHAT IS IT CALLED WHEN YOU FEEL WARM AND CONTENT AND WISH THINGS WOULD STAY THAT WAY?  ‘I guess you’d call it happiness,’ said Harga.  Inside the tiny, cramped kitchen, strata’d with the grease of decades, Death spun and whirled, chopping, slicing and flying.  His skillet flashed through the fetid steam.  He’d opened the door to the cold night air, and a dozen neighborhood cats had strolled in, attracted by the bowls of milk and meat—some of Harga’s best, if he’d known—that had been strategically placed around the floor. Occasionally Death would pause in his work and scratch one of them behind the ears.  ‘Happiness,’ he said, and puzzled at the sound of his own voice.”

While Death moves more and more towards being a person, Mort goes the opposite way, and I, reluctantly, have to agree he’s right to give it all up and go back to being purely human.  As conceptually cool and interesting as it is to be apprenticed to Death, to be more powerful and more real than any other living person, people aren’t meant to live like that, and certainly not meant to live forever.  Mort understands that.

As Death says, “YOU COULD HAVE HAD ETERNITY.”  

And in reply: “‘I know,’ said Mort.  ‘I’ve been very lucky.’”

Honestly, in the course of writing this all out, I’ve almost talked myself back around to really loving this book.  It’s got everything we all want from a Discworld novel: exquisitely crafted and delivered puns, punchy and memorable quotes, unique and well-written characters in a unique and well-crafted setting, a perfect blend of humorous absurdity and heart-wrenching sincerity.  And unlike the first few Discworld books (especially The Colour of Magic, but I’d include all of the previous three novels), Pratchett is clinging less to established High Fantasy tropes and relying more on Discworld-specific flavor. Ankh-Morpork feels more and more like a real place with every visit, and even the other regions of the Disc come across less as never-explored, baffling and bizarre foreign lands (Here There Be Dragons!) and more as places that really do exist, even if we haven’t seen them personally just yet.

And, if nothing else, Mort is so, so important to the rest of the Discworld books from this point on because it establishes exactly what and who Death is on the Discworld.  He’s a person.  He is, at his core, good.  And maybe, as Death says, “THERE IS NO JUSTICE, JUST ME,” but I think it’s incredibly reassuring while reading the series to know that no matter how badly things go wrong, no matter how much danger our Discworld heroes are in or how nerve-wracking things get, the absolute worst thing that could happen is that they end up in Death’s hands.  And Death will treat them as they deserve.

I will always appreciate Mort for that peace of mind.  (And I can appreciate Mort for it, too, even if I still want to grab that ding-dong dumbass by the shoulders and just shake—ahem.  Sorry.)

* * * * * * * * * *

Side Notes:

I need everyone to read this quote about a party at the Patrician’s palace and join me in my confusion: “In fact some two hundred of the Patrician’s guests were now staggering and kicking their way through the Serpent Dance, a quaint Morporkian folkway which consisted of getting rather drunk, holding the waist of the person in front, and then wobbling and giggling uproariously in a long crocodile that wound through as many rooms as possible, preferably ones with breakables in, while kicking one leg vaguely in time with the beat, or at least in time with some other beat.”

Vetinari let them do WHAT

Sure, he’s not technically Vetinari yet, he’s never been named at all, but that’s still proto-Vetinari’s guests at proto-Vetinari’s house and he’s letting them do WHAT

Rincewind pops up briefly in this book, serving as an assistant to the Librarian.  Is this an important cameo?  No, probably not.  Does it make me smile down at my book like I’m seeing a long-absent friend, even if there’s only been one book so far in the series that does not include him? Absolutely, yes.  Hi, Rincewind!  Missed you, buddy!  See you in a minute, Sourcery is coming up next!

Ysabell and Mort have such a strange love story.

“‘I don’t want to get married to anyone yet,’ he added, suppressing a fleeting mental picture of the princess.  ‘And certainly not to you, no offense meant.’  ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on the Disc,’ she said sweetly.”

“‘Obviously we shouldn’t get married, if only for the sake of the children.’  Mort nodded.”

“DAUGHTER, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.  WHY DID YOU AID THIS FOOL?  Ysabell curtsied nervously.  ‘I—love him, Father.  I think.’ ‘You do?’ said Mort, astonished.  ‘You never said!’  ‘There didn’t seem to be time,’ said Ysabell.”

Teenagers. Honestly.

We get a lot more discussion about belief and reality in this one—Mort himself kind of embodies the point as he becomes “more real” and begins to stroll through walls, or doors, or arrows.  Nobody can see Death wandering around the mundane world (with the exception of cats and the magical community) because nobody expects to see him; they don’t believe he’ll be there, and so they don’t see him.  Princess Keli died, according to history, so even though Mort “saved” her, history (and the population of her kingdom) start to write her out.  Belief = reality.  We change the world with the force of that belief.

Favorite Quotes:

“I?  KILL? said Death, obviously offended. CERTAINLY NOT.  PEOPLE GET KILLED, BUT THAT’S THEIR BUSINESS.  I JUST TAKE OVER FROM THEN ON.  AFTER ALL, IT’D BE A BLOODY STUPID WORLD IF PEOPLE GOT KILLED WITHOUT DYING, WOULDN’T IT?”

“Let’s just say that Ankh-Morpork is as full of life as an old cheese on a hot day, as loud as a curse in a cathedral, as bright as an oil slick, as colorful as a bruise and as full of activity, industry, bustle and sheer exuberant busyness as a dead dog on a termite mound.”

“‘How do you get all those coins?’ asked Mort.  IN PAIRS.”

“‘Are you going to send me home?’ he said.  Death reached down and swung him up behind the saddle.  BECAUSE YOU SHOWED COMPASSION?  NO.  I MIGHT HAVE DONE IF YOU HAD SHOWN PLEASURE.  BUT YOU MUST LEARN THE COMPASSION PROPER TO YOUR TRADE.  ‘What’s that?’  A SHARP EDGE.”

“They’re always telling people how much better it’s going to be when they’re dead.  We tell them it could be pretty good right here if only they’d put their minds to it.”

“It had been a long afternoon.  The mountaineer had held on to his icy handhold until the last moment and the execute had called Mort a lackey of the monarchist state.  Only the old lady of 103, who had gone to her reward surrounded by her sorrowing relatives, had smiled at him and said he was looking a little pale.”

“Logic would have told Mort that here was his salvation…Logic would have told him that interfering with the process a second time around would only make things worse. Logic would have said all that, if only Logic hadn’t taken the night off too.”

“‘Why did you have to save me?’  The answer worried him.  He thought about it as he squelched all the way home.  …As he lay shivering in bed it settled in his dreams like an iceberg. In the midst of his fever he muttered, ‘What did he mean, FOR LATER?’”

“‘I mean, friend or foe?’ he stuttered, trying to avoid Mort’s gaze.  ‘Which would you prefer?’ he grinned.  It wasn’t quite the grin of his master, but it was a pretty effective grin and didn’t have a trace of humor in it.  The guard sagged with relief, and stood aside.  ‘Pass, friend,’ he said.”

“The sword burned icy cold in his hand, dragging him on in a dance that would not end until there was nothing left alive.  And that time came, and Mort stood alone except for Death, who said, ‘A fine job, boy.’ And Mort said, MORT.”

“‘I think there’s something you ought to know,’ said the princess.  THERE IS? said Death.  (That was a cinematic trick adapted for print.  Death wasn’t talking to the princess.  He was actually in his study, talking to Mort.  But it was quite effective, wasn’t it?  It’s probably called a fast dissolve, or a crosscut/zoom. Or something.  An industry where a senior technician is called a Best Boy might call it anything.)”