Words that Changed My World - II

My first literary glow-up was The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I wrote about that here.

My second happened when my sister found a copy of this book in a newsagents, and was intrigued by the cover. Josh Kirby does have a distinctive and eye-catching style of artwork. She bought that book, enjoyed it thoroughly, loaned it to me, my brother, my sister, and my mum.

One by one, we all read it. We all loved it.

This story was a pebble whose ripples spread out in several lives, not just mine.

This book started a love affair with an epic and much-cherished series of books, that grew me as a writer and as a person.

I love this book. That's not the right word. I "love" my mother. Meanwhile, I once said I should be buried with a copy of this book some day. I've already reviewed it a little here.

Sir Terry did plenty of good books and this one stands out as a masterpiece.

Let me give you a little sprinkling of some of the good stuff:

The wages of sin is death but so is the salary of virtue, and at least the evil get to go home early on Fridays.

Wisdom is one of the few things that looks bigger the further away it is

You can‘t go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it‘s just a cage.

It's hard to pick a favourite bit. All of it. It's all exquisite, from the cover art onwards. The characters are real and rich, even when they represent an archetype. They are beautifully flawed and he has a knack for giving them such a voice, it's like you are standing next to them listening to them speak. It brings them - and the whole story - to life.

‘By gor’, that’s a bloody enormous cat.’

‘It’s a lion,’ said Granny Weatherwax, looking at the stuffed head over the fireplace.

‘Must’ve hit the wall at a hell of a speed, whatever it was,’ said Nanny Ogg.

‘Someone killed it,’ said Granny Weatherwax, surveying the room.

‘Should think so,’ said Nanny. ‘If I’d seen something like that eatin’ its way through the wall I’d of hit it myself with a poker.’

I say often that language is powerful. That words are spells, and stories are probably our most powerful use of them. Nowhere is it more eloquently expressed than in this book. Did this book sing to me because here I found, at last, an idea that itched to be expressed?

People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it's the other way around.

This idea resonated so hard with me. Had I been a harp, I would've vibrated straight out of the room.

I've always been drawn to old stories, their tellings and re-tellings, and I've always enjoyed re-telling them myself. The recent Tales Retold challenge was right up my alley! Here's a novel which bases its entire plot around these well-known faerie tales - examines them, makes fun of them, turns them upside down, pokes holes in them, and then threads them together like a fetching necklace, making Story itself its centrepiece.

I was already a bookwyrm, but everything I'd read up to this point had been kind of... well... serious. Particularly fantasy, a genre I especially liked. Even hardcore Tolkein fans will probably admit he could be a bit dry. I think he did have a sense of humour (he made fifteen sodding languages and he calls the volcano "Mount Doom"? of course he had a sense of humour) but it was subtle. Fans say it with me: Subtle was practically his middle name. Metaphorically.

Fantasy had been lacking something, and I hadn't even known it. It wasn't very funny. It was a bit... noble. It could be a bit (sorry) up its own bottom.

Pratchett picked up that crowbar once hefted by C.S. Lewis and cranked my brain apart another four or five notches. But not before he knocked over that dusty old tower built by Tolkein so many years before - and did it with a mischievous chuckle.

The door that Lewis opened, Pratchett danced me through it - and I'm not talking carefully choreographed steps, I'm talking a big wobbly conga line, with colourful drinks and probably a pineapple on a stick.

Reading - and, just as importantly, writing - didn't have to be a serious business. It could be funny. It could be silly. It didn't have to take itself so seriously. It could be fun. You could break rules. You could do whatever you wanted.

In years to come, I would learn "write what you know", but Pratchett taught me something better. Write what you love. Write what sings to you.

I don't think it's exaggerating to say that Terry Pratchett changed the face of fantasy wholesale. I think each of us who enjoyed his works experienced - and thoroughly enjoyed - that shift on a personal level.

His works aren't just fun. They are also very human. He holds up a mirror to the world, and ourselves. He makes incisive commentary about human nature and society, and he does it skillfully while tickling your funny bone.

I might never have enjoyed the magic and humour of his life's work, and the insights it has to offer... if I hadn't read this one.

+++++++

Thank you for reading. Please do leave a comment to make it easy for me to reciprocate. I appreciate thoughtful engagement. Tell me whether you've read this book, and what impact it had on you, or tell me which book has had a big impact on your life 😁

The story behind the story: I wrote this piece for the BookClub challenge. The cover art is my cat who is seventeen and named after one of the characters in the book. Special prize if you can guess which.

If you'd like to read more from me: I mostly write fiction, occasionally micro-fiction, even more occasionally poetry, or writing about writing.