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Equal Rites — Terry Pratchett

Published on October 25, 2012Leave a comment

Cover of Equal Rites

Equal Rites
Terry Pratchett
283 pages
published in 1987

With the third novel in the series, Equal Rites, it became clear that the Discworld was more than just the sum of its characters. Gone were Rincewind, Twoflower and the Luggage, as an entire new setting and cast turned up. This wasn’t something that had been done much — or ever — in fantasy before, not often done after either. It must’ve seemed a bit of a gamble at the time, but this freedom to change protagonists and settings is what made the Discworld series, what has been keeping it from going stale for so long. If you don’t like one particular subseries, there are several others that you can read. Of course it also helps that Pratchett has been such a good writer for so long…

Equal Rites is the first Witches story, though the Granny Weatherwax that shows up here isn’t quite the one we get to know better in the later novels, differing somewhat even from how she’s portrayed in Wyrd Sisters three books onwards. The plot of the story is all about how if you’re a wizard on the verge of dying and looking for an eight son of an eight son to hand your staff over to, it helps to not be too hasty and check that eight son of an eight son isn’t actually a daughter…

Which it turns out to be and Eskarina “Esk” Smith duly turns out to have wizardly powers. Unfortunately, girls can’t be wizards and besides, in Bad Ass there’s nobody to teach her wizardry anyway. Instead, once her talents become too much to be ignored, she’s apprenticed to Granny Weatherwax to become a witch. Witchcraft is very different from wizardry though, much more headology and herb knowledge, less turning people into frogs or spewing flames from a staff.

It turns out to not be enough for Esk, she needs to learn proper magic and runs away to Ankh Morpork, followed by Granny Weatherwax. On the way she meets an apprentice wizard named Simon, one of the greatest magical talents the Unseen University has seen in eons. He’s very good in theoretical magic, where he can explain things so well that he can make his audiences become ignorant on a much more fundamental level than ordinary people. Simon, while brilliant and a decent bloke all around is unfortunately somewhat of a beacon for the things from the Dungeon Dimensions, always looking for a way into the Discworld, which is the dimensional equivalent to close to the shops and near the buses. Of course it’s up to Esk to save him, but she has her own problems as well, starting with the struggle to be actually taken seriously by the wizards of the Unseen University.

Equal Rites is beside the first witches book, also the first Discworld novel in which we get a closer look at non-Rincewind wizards, who don’t come out looking all that well. Chauvenistic, overtly proud, constantly scheming amongst each other to advance their careers (usually by making sure the wizard standing in their way is no longer doing so for reason of death), they’re still a while away from their later portrayals. Wizardry is also somewhat more dangerous than it would be later, with the wizardy death toll not insignificant here and in the next two books…

Though Pratchett is firmly on Esk’s side regarding her ambitions, he’s still fundamentally conservative here: the status quo of female witches and male wizards is quickly reinstated, Esk and Simon get their happy ending and exit stage left and nothing more is heard of female wizards for the rest of the series. There is somewhat of an separate but equal vibe to this whole wizards and witches setup, certainly in these early stages.

On the whole Equal Rites is a giant step forward in Pratchett’s evolution as a writer; it feels much more like a proper Discworld novel than the first two books did.

The Light Fantastic — Terry Pratchett

Published on October 24, 2012Leave a comment

Cover of The Light Fantastic

The Light Fantastic
Terry Pratchett
285 pages
published in 1986

The Light Fantastic is of course the second Discworld novel and a direct sequel to The Colour of Magic starting in media res with Rincewind having fallen off the Disc. To his own amazement he does not actually fall to his death, but is saved by the Great Octavo Spell that had taken up residence in his head. It turns out that this hadn’t actually been an accident all those years ago that had gotten it in his head and all other magic spells afraid to stay near it, but had been in preparation for just this moment. The Discworld is heading towards a huge red star and unless the spell and its seven counterparts are said at exactly the right time, the world will be destroyed…

There’s three years between the publication of The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic and it’s noticable in Pratchett’s writing, which has improved a lot between the two novels. It’s also much less parody orientated, but still nowhere near the Discworld we’ve gotten to know and love. We do get a first glimmer of some of the subjects that Pratchett would engage more fully in later novels, including his humanitarianism. For the moment however, the Discworld is still much closer to a standard fantasy world than to what it would later become.

This might be a good point to say something about Pratchett’s humanitarianism. Though he does have a cynical side, in his heart he does seem to believe in the essential goodness and deceny of people. His villains mostly are people who have stopped thinking of other people as people: treating people like things is the original sin in Prachett’s worldview. Against it he puts the essential emotional sloppiness of his heroes, who with all their flaws are to a person willing to take a punt on the needs of the many if it means sacrifising the few. The first time this is really visible is still a few novels away, in Sourcery, but from The Light Fantastic onwards you can already see hints of this worldview coming to the fore.

In this novel, it’s the star people, the fanatics who start organising pogroms against wizards and other magical folk as the red star comes closer to the Discworld and magic starts to fail. These are the archetypical Pratchett villains, thought hey only play a bit part here: organised, systemic evil and firmly set against all the good things in life. Against that he sets the everyday moral failings of his heroes: Rincewind is a coward and the first to admit it, the Luggage is not very nice in general and let’s not even mention Cohen the Barbarian, whose job it is to slaughter pre-eminent religious authorities just because they have a habit of tying up temple maidens as sacrifice for their pet demons…

The Light Fantastic is a better novel than The Colour of Magic, but not yet a good novel. There’s promise, but it’s not being fullfilled yet.

The Colour of Magic — Terry Pratchett

Published on October 22, 2012Leave a comment

Cover of The Colour of Magic

The Colour of Magic
Terry Pratchett
285 pages
published in 1983

The days are getting shorter, the nights are longer and I got the desire to reread some old favourites. It’s the time of year for comfort reading, as you may notice in my reading patterns from year to year and this time I wanted to lose myself in something actually good, rather than going for something mindless. Which is why I decided to reread the Discworld series from the beginning, though I won’t guarantee I’ll finish the series.

Which brings me to The Colour of Magic, the very first Discworld novel. Over the years it has gotten somewhat of a bad reputation amongst Pratchett fans as not being up to the standards of the series, not being as funny or interesting, not a good place to start the series as a new reader. All of which has a kernel of truth, but at the same time it was the novel that kickstarted the whole series and if it really had no merit, it would’ve been the last book in the series. It is rough and ready, it doesn’t quite fit in with the Discworld as it would evolve over the course of the series, but it still has a certain charm.

Most of this charm of course is due to the Discworld itself, one of the great fantasy creations, an idea so brilliant and yet so obvious you wonder why nobody else thought it up earlier to use as a setting for a fantasy series. The idea of the world being shaped like a disc, rather than a ball and carried by four elephants who themselves stand on the back of a giant turtle, with the moon and sun small satellites of the Disc, is of course inspired by various mythologies about the shape of the earth; Pratchett himself had used the idea of a discworld in a more dark humoured science fiction novel, Strata. But it was only in The Colour of Magic that he put it all together.

What he uses this wonderful setting for is parody,as he moves through several cliched fantasy adventures through the course of the novel, through the travels of the Discworld’s first tourist and his reluctant tour guide. It’s somewhat of a picaresque novel, a series of loosely connected adventures with no real overarching plot. It’s also incomplete, as it ends on a cliffhanger.

It all starts with the arrival of that first tourist, Twoflower in Ankh-Morpork, where luckily for him, he meets up with failed wizard Rincewind, a man who has honed his survival instincts to a fine edge, to the point that he’s already running away when most people would still ask why. As Twoflower takes a liking to him and once the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork explains he’s a citizen of the Agatean Empire, the richest, most powerful and secretive empire on the Discworld, it is in his best interests to steer Twoflower away from danger, Rincewind becomes his guide. Which is sorely needed as Twoflower himselfs believes the best of everything, is convinced that his status as tourist will shield him from all dangers and in general is blind to any danger.

Which is how he ends up selling innsewerants to a landlord for about twenty times the value of his pub, setting into motion a conflageration that consumes the whole city, leaving him and Rincewind to flee for their lives. From there on their travels take them on a tour of the whole Disc. It’s all in service of parody, as they meet up with heroes like Bravd the Hublander and the Weasel, Cohen the Barbarian and others vaguely reminiscent of other, more serious fantasy heroes..

What’s striking about these adventures is how crude it all is. Take Death for example, who is downright cruel is his appearances here, taking great pleasure in spoking Rincewind and actually taking the lives of various animals directly, not at all the mellow Death we learn to know and love only a few novels later. It doesn’t really feel like the real Discworld, with several elements contradicted by later novels (as shorta kinda worked out in Thief of Time).

All in all this is a decent enough read, but reading it in hindsight it’s clear Pratchett is still learning how to make the Discworld work for him, isn’t quite there yet. Reading it on its own will give you the wrong idea of what the Discworld series is really like.

The Jewel in the Skull — Michael Moorcock

Published on September 6, 2012Leave a comment

Cover of The Jewel in the Skull

The Jewel in the Skull
Michael Moorcock
175 pages
published in 1967

The Jewel in the Skull is another of Michael Moorcock’s seemingly endless number of fantasy series, the first in the History of the Runestaff quartet. It’s also part of Moorcock’s overarching Eternal Champion mythos, with the hero, Dorian Hawkmoon, being yet another reincarnation of the Eternal Champion. Not that this is important in this book, which can easily be read as a standalone adventure. A such it fair zips along, having been published at the tail end of the era when fantasy and science fiction books were considered long if they managed 150 pages.

It’s also a very blokey book. There are only two female characters of note in it, one of which in the role of the hero’s reward, the other a damsel in distress for the hero to rescue. If you don’t notice or can live with that, the Jewel in the Skull is a clever, fun adventure story. It’s set in a far future Europe, some thousands of years after the Tragic Millennium ended our own civilisation. Much of Europe now is under occupation By Granbretan, a tyrranical empire ruled by an immortal corrupt emperor, a tightly controlled, cruel and strictly hierarchical society. Dorian Hawkmoon, the duke of Köln was the last hero to resist their advance, rising up in rebellion against them, and failed. Now he’s a prisoner in Londra, his fate to serve as entertainment for its rulers…

That’s not where it starts though. It starts with count Brass, the ruler of the Kamarg (what remains of the present day Camargue. He’s named Brass for the armour he wears. Once he was a fearsome warrior and adventurer; these days he’s only interested in keeping his own country free. He’s not interested in fighting against Granbretan as long as it leaves Kamarg in peace. But when he thwarts the designs of an Granbretan emissary, Baron Meliadus, he makes an enemy for life — and Baron Meliadus will use Hawkmoon to bring him down.

The Jewel in the Skull is perhaps one of the most straightforward of Moorcock’s fantay stories and as such one of his most accessible too. Even though the story at times borders on formulaic, Moorcock still brings his own touch to it, with the protagonist only making his first appearance some 44 pages into the story. Granbretan as well is fairly Moorcockian, the overtly ordered, insane and evil society still with a certain glamour, slightly reminiscent of the Melnibone of Elric.

In general, it’s been interesting to see how deftly Moorcock can sketch out a whole world with just a few details, suggest a backstory with just a few hints. There is quite a bit of exposition in the story, but it never palls and it’s done lightly, when needed, not just for the sake of “world building”.

In the end this is still only a minor Moorcock, nowhere near as complex or fullfilling as his true masterpieces, a competent story told by a still young writer. Interesting, but not essential.

Keeping it Real — Justina Robson

Published on March 18, 20121 Comment

Cover of Keeping it Real

Keeping it Real
Justina Robson
279 pages
published in 2006

Justina Robson is one of those writers I’ve known about for years, but have never read anything by so far. One of the new breed of British science fiction writers who popped up around the turn of the millennium, her first couple of novels found critical acclaim, each being nominated for the Clarke or BSFA Award. Unfortunately popular success seemed to elude her however, until she started the Quantum Gravity series, of which Keeping it Real is the first novel.

It is also the first novel of hers I’ve read. A high concept description of it would be urban fantasy meets cyberpunk, a bit like the old Shadowrun role playing game but much less naff. Personally I’ve always thought cyberpunk was urban fantasy’s science fiction’s mirror counterpart anyway, so the combination seems logical. As Robson explains it in the prologue, an unknown “quantum catastrophe” in the Superconducting Superconductor in Texas in 2015 had torn reality into six realms: Earth, now called Otopia, Zoomenon, the realm of Elementals, Alfheim (elves country), Demonia, home of demons, Faery, home of fairies and finally Thanatopia, supposedly the realm of the dead though no human being has ever visited. The catastrophe was quickly dubbed the “Quantum Bomb” on Otopia, with the big question that keeps human philsophers and scientists awake at night being whether the Bomb really recreated reality or just made it visible to Otopia.

Such questions isn’t what keeps Lila Black (21) awake at night. Wounded, tortured and almost killed during a clandestine mission to Alfheim two years, she has been rebuild, better, stronger, faster but with added loss of humanity, as well as being cut off from her family, who thinks she died. Now she’s assigned to her first mission and for all her build-in weaponry and fusion powered systems, she’s less than confident in her own abilities. Especially because it involves playing bodyguard to an elf rock star called Zal, who has gotten death threats because elven don’t rock and if they do, loads of people, elven and humans both, don’t like it.

After her experiences in Alfheim Lila is understandably not too enamoured of elves, though she strives hard to hide her feelings, does her best not to be charmed by Zal’s charisma. There is the additional complication of being ensnared into an elven Game, a danger that’s always present when humans and elfs mix. And with the sexual tension between Zal and Lila soon thick enough to cut with a knife, it’s clear what a Game would be about if she entered it.

At first Keeping it Real‘s plot seems fairly predictable, until Robson gets it properly going, when we quickly learn that the reasons why Zal needs a bodyguard are a bit more complicated than just having recieved death threats. Instead he’s at the centre of an elaborate scheme dreamed up by some of the more conservative powers in Alfheim, who want nothing less than to sunder all access to the other five realms. Lila finds herself in the middle of all this, fighting to keep Zal and herself alive.

As a heroine, Lila Black is, depending on your perspective, cursed with awesomeness or blessed with suck. She has a fusion heart, lots of weaponry hidden in her body and titanium bones, but she feels she has lost her humanity. It’s not an unusual position for a heroine of a modern urban fantasy to find herself in of course, but Robson makes Lila’s internal turmoil and despair convincing, which is the greatest strength of Keeping it Real.

It is what makes me want to read the next book in the series.