Arise, Sir Terry
Wednesday, February 18th, 2009
Many moons before J. K. Rowling was telling stories to illiterate Britain about a strange world with wizards, Terry Pratchett’s first Discworld novel – The Colour of Magic – was published.
But if you’re not a fan of fantasy, don’t let the wizards, dragons and treasure chests with legs put you off picking up one of his books.
Because Terry Pratchett is far from just a fantasy writer; he’s probably more of social commentator. The many tribes in the Discworld represent religions, cultures, and factions of society in our real – and often, more absurd – world.
A dwarf is not necessarily just a dwarf.
His wit is razor sharp – perhaps too sharp for most – but once you hit his groove, every page presents a quip that’s worthy of a chortle. Terry Pratchett made me realise how fucking great books can be.
And then, in December 2007, Pratchett told the world he had a rare form of early onset Alzheimer’s. I cannot comprehend how scary it must be to be told that your soundest of minds is, well, going to be far from sound.
Yet, in typical Pratchett fashion, he described the diagnosis as an embuggerance. And then he went on the attack; determined to raise the profile of this cruel, cruel disease that – in his words – strips away your living self, bit by bit.
And today was all about good news (and another chance to boost the awareness of Alzheimer’s). Liz got her sword out and knighted the now Sir Terry Pratchett.
A splendid decision methinks.