Terry Pratchett is my favourite non-uncle uncle.

Fiction comes and fiction goes, but the Discworld remains. Since I was ten years old I’ve spent some of my favourite escapist holidays on the back of this swimming turtle. By now I’m seriously emotionally attached to this world, these places within this world and a lot of the people who populate it. With age I’ve become aware that this world isn’t simply it’s own, but rather a witty satire mirror of our own. Somehow that discovery was so gradual and so dynamic, the Discworld expansion was allowed to grown alongside me, that the love only seemed to become more cemented and solid. Because even if events and occurrences are spoofed in the novels Ankh-Morpork has become its own beast. This isn’t simply a resonance of the “real-world”, it’s its own beautifully dirty little creature with a strong heart and an independent will.

The level with which I’m invested in this world is both a happy and sad thing. More than once have I wished deeply I could plan and then go on a holiday to this place. I want to smell the stench, wear the tattered clothes and watch the sites watch me. A weekend trip to Ankh-Morpork and then a week or two up north getting the experience both the urban and rural, but always making sure to cover up my jugular real well on account of liking my blood to be mostly on the inside of my veins.

As a result Terry Pratchett feels like my favourite uncle (I’m sorry, Uncle, you’re still my favourite uncle when I’m not trying to make points in blog posts). I’ve grown up with this man always being present through his words and worlds. He’s always been there to tell a good story, impress me and help me see how big the world really is by making sure I look beyond its geographical boundaries.

I just have a lot of love and appreciation for the man and the Discworld. After having spent my day on the couch watching Going Postal (I still giggled more than once as Moist spoke and I had to shake my head once and then twice to not hear Jeff) I had to get it out. It’ll never be the brilliance of the books, because moving pictures doesn’t have the same kind of magic, but I was entertained and it made me want, crave and demand a new novel. I guess I’ll just have to hang on a few more months before it’s time for Raising Steam. I’ll be waiting.


~ by JH on September 6, 2013.

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