To the uninitiated sceptic, the
outpouring of affection and grief expressed across social media, at
the passing of Terry Pratchett, might seem a touch affected, or even trite. It
is not.
I am not generally given to
sentimentality; forty odd years on this planet have granted me sufficient
perspective to judge my own feelings, and motives. I am reasonably hard headed,
and worldly, and yet for my part, I have been crying, on and off, all afternoon
since I learned of Terry Pratchett’s death.
Why grieve? Terry Pratchett was
only a writer after all, and a writer of comic fantasy at that. Well the only
real way for the sceptical to appreciate the loss we feel is to read Terry
Pratchett’s books, in particular his Discworld stories. The first few are
buoyant, cheerful affairs, lovingly mocking the standard tropes of fantasy
literature, but gradually, as the series progressed, they became something
more. His worlds gained nuance and his characters a surprising depth. He used those
characters to gently express, and even analyse the human condition. He examined
our morals, ethics, and beliefs, with an equal measure of love, and irritation.
In his books specifically for young people, and in particular the Tiffany
Aching stories, he created characters that are amongst the finest ever written
for children. And of course in his adult books are three outstanding literary
creations; Sam Vimes, Esme Weatherwax, and the inimitable anthropomorphic personification, Death. Between these
three, Pratchett sought to express what I unashamedly and happily describe here
as the nobility of the human spirit. They are on a par with the likes of
Atticus Finch in the dignity in which they meet their struggles. Part of our
grief is that we will now never know what happens next.
There is something else though,
these characters have been with me all of my adult life. They have become, in a
curious way, teachers, mentors and ultimately friends. I am convinced that I am
a better person for having read Pratchett. I fear death less, and love all the
mad, chaotic, strangeness that is life more. And I have recognised Pratchett’s
most valuable lesson, which is that the first sin is to treat people as things,
as do his villains and antagonists. As Granny Aching teaches her granddaughter,
Tiffany, “Them as can do, has to do for them as can't. And someone has to speak
up for them as has no voices. ”
So here’s to Terry Pratchett. To
quote another famous fantasy author, “I will not say, do not weep, for not all
tears are an evil.”
Oh and by the way, did he take his
hat with him? You do know that a wizard always comes back for his hat.
