Sir Terry Pratchett – Small Gods
“Imagination, not intelligence, made us human.” – Sir Terry Pratchett
With the recent passing of Sir Terry Pratchett the world lost more than just a comedy fantasy writer, it lost a little of its magic. He was without reservation my favourite author, not just in fantasy, but of any and all genres. I’ve struggled for days to convey just how great he was, and I don’t think I’m really up to the task.
Everything he wrote was vibrant, colourful, and fascinating. He did a better job of convincing me that a flat world on the back of a giant space turtle of uncertain gender was real than other writers, greatly talented in their own right, did with places like ‘London’, or ‘Chicago’. He brought to life a cast of wizards, witches, guards, lawyers, politicians, engineers, werewolves, dwarves, golems, orang-utans, talking dogs and even the anthropomorphic personification of Death himself, making them real people, human or otherwise, with their own personalities and quirks and annoying laughs[1] where others had trouble making casual conversations sound real.
He took the common trappings of the fantasy genre and turned them around to poke fun at it and many other things in a loving way. He wrote intelligent books about Shakespeare, soccer, the police, rock and roll, and the movies. He made insightful commentaries on time, war, mortality, the soul of music, the difference between belief and religion, and the magic of childhood. He often used clever plots and engaging characters to examine what it means to be human.
Most of all he was funny. He could look at serious subjects with a sharp wit that was rarely if ever mean-spirited. He would make cheap groan worthy puns and then get another laugh by pointing them out, or he could set up a joke for most of a book before finally pulling the trigger. His work was full of quotable lines that could make you think about something in a new way. He was funny outside of his fiction, even when it came to himself. He proudly included a quote from a review in one of his books that said he was incompetent for not writing in chapters, and he referred to the chronic illness that would claim his life as ‘the Embuggerance’.
He was something truly special; intelligent, hilarious, and very human. There are many people who tell a good story, can make you laugh, or say something that makes you think, but there is no one with his particular magical combination. I doubt that there will ever be anyone who can match him.
“And it came to pass that in that time the Great God Om spake unto Brutha, the Chosen One: ‘Psst!'”
Small Gods is the story of Om, the god of a two million strong church and empire, the only monotheistic religion on the Discworld, and the only one to teach that the world is round and not flat. The Quisition is eager to talk to anyone who questions that last part.
When he attempts to manifest himself as a bull to trample some infidels Om is surprised to find himself almost powerless and stuck in the form of a small tortoise. Adding to his problems a lowly novice of the Omnian church named Brutha becomes his chosen one by virtue of being the only person that can here him. Neither of them is what the other really wanted or expected, but may be what they needed.
The story touches on many things, rebellions and holy wars, labyrinths and libraries, the crossing of deserts real and metaphorical, death rays, steam-powered war machine, and a lot of trying not to get tortured by the inquisitors. There are hermits, philosophers, priests, monks, the nasty Deacon Vorbis who heads the Quisition, and the requisite appearance of Death himself. This is a story that manages to have a good believable character arc for a god where he learns to be a better person.
At its core Small Gods is about the nature of gods and belief and religion and the difference between them. It’s set in a fantastic world but it’s just as applicable to reality. It is brilliant, and one of Pratchett’s best works.
In the days following Sir Terry’s death I read this for the third time, and I think I got more out of it this go around than I did before. While it’s in the same setting as many of Pratchett’s books it stands alone, with only a few references to and cameos from the rest of the series, so it makes a good place to start for anyone interested in his work.
Other good starting places include Mort, in which Death takes an apprentice, Guards! Guards!, about the Night Watch in the bifurcated city of Ankh-Morpork, The Truth, where the newspaper is accidentally invented, and Going Postal, the story of a con man put in charge of reviving the Post Office in the face of competition from the telegraph. For younger readers there is student witch Tiffany Aching and her Pictsie friends The Wee Free Men[2]. Finally, for those daunted by the forty plus novels of the Discworld there is Good Omens, co written with Neil Gaiman, about the anti-christ and the apocalypse. It even has a Death very much like the Discs, but a very different War.[3]I still feel this is wholly inadequate, but I can only hope than maybe somebody will discover the wonders of Sir Terry Pratchett and the magic of the Discworld because of it.