I must thank my PhD supervisor in Scotland, Prof. David Punter, for inviting me to overcome my prejudice against the colourful covers of Terry Pratchettâs novels and kicking me head first into the Discworld. 17 years and 39 novels later I can only say âthank you, thank you, thank you…â for so much literary pleasure. As happens, I have just started supervising a PhD dissertation on Pratchett (by Rosa MarĂa Moreno), thus breaking the rule that treasured authors must be kept just for pleasure.
Rosa MarĂaâs focus are five of the best novels and, in particular, how humour is constructed in them. Pratchett is a superb writer of comic fantasy and one of the best-kept secrets of English Literature, in view of the little academic attention he has received (talk about prejudice…). All his novels reach systematically the top of the best-selling list in the UK but I know very few academic readers of his work, if any, and just a handful of fans (Rosa MarĂa among them). Thereâs a book-length monograph about him called Accused of Literature and that seems to be the problem: that calling Pratchett a literary author sounds pretty much like an accusation. Iâve had the pleasure of teaching the 25th Discworld novel, The Truth (still my favourite) and his collaboration with Neil Gaiman, Good Omens, though I must acknowledge that Pratchettâs dense web of allusions (heâs a very sharp satirist) make reading his novels a hard task for many students. This is one of the paradoxes of popular fiction in the university classroom âJoyce ends up seeming more accessible… (right, Rosa MarĂa?)
The reason why Iâm writing this posting is sheer serendipity. I have just gone through Charles Dickensâs Nicholas Nickleby, with the usual immense pleasure I find in reading his work. One of my colleagues, NĂ©stor, saw the copy on my table and he launched into enthusiastic praise of Dickens. We both agreed that a) a non-native learner of English can only fully appreciate Dickens after reaching 40 (sorry, students!) and b) thereâs none like him to portray eccentricity and absurdity (Becket is just a would-be-Dickens…).
Then I read Pratchettâs latest paperback, Snuff, and something clicked: hang on, this is Dickens, passed, yes, through Tolkien and Monty Python. I have never doubted that Pratchettâs chaotic Ankh-Morpork is Victorian London and I have always found something endearingly Victorian in the Discworldâs reluctant yet wide-eyed embrace of new technology. Yet, as Pratchett is otherwise very up-to-date in his social criticism, I had missed the Dickens in him (silly me, all that talk of justice and injustice!).
To my immense surprise (and, yes, pleasure) Pratchett himself has pointed out the obvious: his next hardback, due September, is called… Dodger!, and yes, it has Charlie Dickens in it, together with all those other Victorian eccentrics. Iâm teaching Oliver Twist again starting next September and I do know itâs going to be a long summer, waiting for the master to see what heâs done with the master in Dodger. Iâm sure indeed that Dickens would have enjoyed reading any of Pratchettâs books.
Two more things. The Discworld series has been narrating over the years the progressive inclusion of âethnicâ minorities other than human in Ankh-Morporkâs society. The police force, its most symptomatic example of integration, already boasts among its ranks a werewolf, a troll, dwarves and, indeed, Igors and vampires in its âCSIâ team. Snuff is all about Commander Vimesâs heroic fight to have goblins acknowledged as full citizens. And, yes, also by sheer serendipity I have just read George MacDonaldâs Victorian classic for children, The Princess and the Goblin (1872). I do know that goblins are much older creatures, possibly our guilty memory of the Neanderthal we exterminated. Yet, reading MacDonaldâs callous presentation of the goblins as pure monsters, I realised even with more clarity how Pratchett is following Dickensâs wake in undoing Victorian (and indeed post- or neo-Victorian) prejudice. Perhaps the telling difference is that sentimentalism is (almost) gone. Um, well, instead of Little Nell you get a goblin girl move Ankh-Morporkâs high society to tears… with a harp.
To finish: Pratchett has Alzheimerâs disease in its early stages, which is why, Iâm sure, his last eight novels or so, are much darker (or maybe the world is to blame for that). Also, why each new book is so precious to us, fans. Letâs then, look forward to Dodger.