Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett’s books are entertaining. But, like Civilization, I don’t mean to learn from them. I just do. Whoops. Hand me a towel, I got some knowledge on me and you know how sticky that is.

His work is usually filed in the sci-fi/fantasy section, but don’t hold it against him. Like all great books, the writing is grounded in human observation. The characters are thoroughly believable and complex, something rare for the vast bulk of fantasy.

Since it’s Christmastime, The Hogfather is on tap for another viewing. In the spirit of the season (and brevity), I thought I’d offer a scant few Pratchetty-justifications for inclusion in this “what I learned from” exercise.

Geography and politics

His stories take place on a flat, disc-shaped world that lay on the backs of four elephants that are themselves supported on the back of a space-faring turtle. Even so, his keen grasp of geopolitics is grounded in reality. One gets the feeling that the humans in these stories imagine themselves masters of their world in the same way a flea imagines himself master of their dog.

Imagine: Two nations separated by an ocean. They’ve been at peace for centuries. An island named Leshp pops into existence in the middle of the ocean.

“So,” [Vimes] said, “are we going to have a scrap over this Leshp business or what?”

The Prince gave a dismissive shrug.

“Pfui,” he said. “A few square miles of uninhabited fertile ground with superb anchorage in an unsurpassed strategic position? What sort of inconsequence is that for civilized people to war over?”

Once again Vimes felt the gaze on him, reading him. Well, the hell with it. He said, “Sorry, I’m not good at this diplomacy business. Did you mean what you just said then?” (Pratchett, Jingo)

The promise and danger of ideas

Ideas are dangerous. So is religion, technology, and pretty much damned near everything else in the world. But Pratchett doesn’t strike me as a cynic. Maybe more of a stoic. Who knows. Stuff happens. In the end, all our complex stuff isn’t merely good or bad. It just is.

…It’s always worth having a few philosophers around the place. One minute it’s all Is Truth Beauty and Is Beauty Truth, and Does A Falling Tree in the Forest Make A Sound if There’s No one There to Hear It, and then just when you think they’re going to start dribbling one of ‘em says, Incidentally, putting a thirty-foot parabolic reflector on a high place to shoot the rays of the sun at an enemy’s ships would be a very interesting demonstration of optical principles.” (Pratchett, Small Gods)

Infinity

Though I’m the faithless sort, that doesn’t stop me from wondering what it all means. Deeply reading into matters is cathardic, but it hardly leaves me more informed. Fortunately, Pratchett’s observations about the futility of existence always brings a smile to my face. I may lack a certain kind of peace, but I surely don’t lack good humor.

“God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of the players, (ie everybody), to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.” (Pratchett & Gaimen, Good Omens)

Terry Pratchett is a big picture kind of guy. Though his aim is to write fiction, it’s informed by the standard stuff of humanity. And though his writing can be dense, layered, and riddled with different characters, the effort is worth it. I always come away from his books with a deeper appreciation for the controlled chaos we call civilized life.