In
the End, a Story about Nothing
I
was introduced to Pratchett's Discworld stories several years ago,
and have usually enjoyed the ones I've read. In my own reading,
Pratchett is unique in that he can very skillfully blend satirical
elements with serious themes, giving the reader both reasons to
chuckle and reasons to think.
There
are some stand-alone Discworld books, but most of them follow one of
a few different sets of characters. Hogfather is a story where the
main characters are Death and characters connected with him, though
it also brings in the wizards of Unseen University.
Summary
There
are beings who want to destroy the Discworld, and they have the $3
million to make it happen (apparently, this was well before
inflation, when $3 million could still be considered real money), and
the Assassin's Guild has a member whose mind is so askew that he can
find a way to assassinate a being whose existence is problematic: the
Hogfather, the Discworld version of Santa Claus. So, Death has to
keep belief in the Hogfather alive, while telling his granddaughter
Susan to not get involved (and grandkids being grandkids, of course
she goes right out and gets herself right involved).
Humor
This
being a Pratchett story, of course there have to be all kinds of
satirical shots fired. And it's not as if the current commercialized
state of Christmas doesn't lend itself very well to such shots.
For
example, there is the Hogfather (actually Death dressed up as the
Hogfather) visiting the Maul, which is disruptive on all kinds of
levels, not least of which is because this Hogfather thinks his job
is to give kids the things they ask him for, including swords and
ponies. This is a concern for parents (who want their children to
have, well, toys) and to shop owners at the Maul (who want people to
buy things, not have them given to them). And there are the
Hogfather's hogs (he doesn't have reindeer pull his sled), who insist
on acting like hogs, even in a maul, to the endless curiosity and
delight of all the children.
Susan
Sto Helit is one of the Discworld's more fascinating characters. She
is Death's granddaugher, connected to him in ways genetics have no
control over, and she lives in both the real world and in his world.
In this book she's a nanny, taking care of a couple of precocious
children. One way she helps take care of them is to get rid of the
monsters under their beds, in their closets, and in the basement,
because she knows as well as the children that there really are
monsters in those places. She takes no guff from those monsters, and
she has a poker to make sure they give her no guff.
Humor?
With
all the humor hits in this book, maybe it should be expected that
there are some misses, too.
For
some reason, Good King Wenceslas takes some jabs in one scene. The
song is about the king giving some food and drink to a peasant he
sees gathering wood. Pratchett makes this act into the king only
wanting to be praised for his generosity, while not really being
concerned at all for the peasant.
And
even things Christian speculative fans may consider either sacred or
near-sacred come in for some knocks. Among the sacred...
Death
flicked the tiny scythe just as the bloom faded…
The
omnipotent eyesight of various supernatural entities is often
remarked upon. It is said they can see the fall of every sparrow.
And
this may be true. But there is only one who is always there when it
hits the ground. (p. 42)
Sadly,
Pratchett shanks this one, badly. It isn't Death who is there when
the sparrow falls to the ground.
29
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall
to the ground apart from your Father. 30 But even the hairs of your
head are all numbered. 31 Fear not, therefore; you are of more value
than many sparrows.
And
another one.
Goodwill
to all men was a phrase coined by someone who hadn’t met Foul Ole
Ron. (p. 273)
Granted,
Foul Ole Ron is a fictional character, but the ones who first sang
the phrase “goodwill to all men” knew very well people whose
hearts were far darker than any ficitonal character's, and they still
sang of peace on earth and goodwill to all men. And they had reason
to sing of those things, not because of men's darkened hearts, but
because of the one who was born that day in the City of David, Christ
the Lord.
Among
the near-sacred, there is a wardrobe that scares a man near to death,
before seeming to consume the man to death, except his boots
“There
are magic wardrobes,” said Violet nervously. “If you go into
them, you come out in a magic land.”
Bilious
looked at the boots again.
“Um…yes,”
he said. (p. 326)
I
will simply say, those who create fantasy universes where flat worlds
roam through the universe on the backs of elephants and turtles look
silly when they try to mock the idea of magic wardrobes.
Serious
Matters
But
the biggest problem with this book is its main message.
“All
right,” said Susan. “I’m not stupid. You’re saying humans
need…fantasies to make life bearable.”
REALLY?
AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE
HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.
“Tooth
fairies? Hogfathers? Little—”
YES.
AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE
LIES.
“So
we can believe the big ones?”
YES.
JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.
“They’re
not the same at all!”
YOU
THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST
POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE
ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand.
AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF
THERE IS SOME…SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE
JUDGED.
(pp.
380-381)
Btw
Death speaks in all-caps. So does Susan a few times, when she needs
to. She's Death's granddauther, after all.
THERE
IS A PLACE WHERE TWO GALAXIES HAVE BEEN COLLIDING FOR A MILLION
YEARS, said Death, apropos of nothing. DON’T TRY TO TELL ME THAT’S
RIGHT.
“Yes,
but people don’t think about that,” said Susan. “Somewhere
there was a bed…”
CORRECT.
STARS EXPLODE, WORLDS COLLIDE, THERE’S HARDLY ANYWHERE IN THE
UNIVERSE WHERE HUMANS CAN LIVE WITHOUT BEING FROZEN OR FRIED, AND YET
YOU BELIEVE THAT A…A BED IS A NORMAL THING. IT IS THE MOST AMAZING
TALENT.
“Talent?”
OH,
YES. A VERY SPECIAL KIND OF STUPIDITY. YOU THINK THE WHOLE UNIVERSE
IS INSIDE YOUR HEADS.
“You
make us sound mad,” said Susan. A nice warm bed…
NO.
YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN THINGS THAT AREN’T TRUE. HOW ELSE CAN THEY
BECOME? said Death, helping her up onto Binky. (pp. 381-382)
Btw2,
Binky is Death's horse.
So
many things could be said in response to these statements.
For
example, the entire first chapter of Lewis' Mere Christianity could
be called to answer this charge about the non-reality of things like
justice and mercy...
Now
what interests me about all these remarks is that the man who makes
them is not merely saying that the other man’s behaviour does not
happen to please him. He is appealing to some kind of standard of
behaviour which he expects the other man to know about. And the other
man very seldom replies: ‘To hell with your standard.’ Nearly
always he tries to make out that what he has been doing does not
really go against the standard, or that if it does there is some
special excuse. He pretends there is some special reason in this
particular case why the person who took the seat first should not
keep it, or that things were quite different when he was given the
bit of orange, or that something has turned up which lets him off
keeping his promise. It looks, in fact, very much as if both parties
had in mind some kind of Law or Rule of fair play or decent behaviour
or morality or whatever you like to call it, about which they really
agreed. And they have. If they had not, they might, of course, fight
like animals, but they could not quarrel in the human sense of the
word.Lewis,
C. S.. Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis Signature Classics) (pp. 3-4).
HarperCollins
Death
wishes to claim that somehow two galaxies colliding over millions of
years is not right. But if he wants to say that justice and mercy are
not realities, then he essentially undercuts his own statement.
Without justice, what is right and wrong, just and unjust? Without
justice, how can the collision of two galaxies be called “not
right”?
And
does believing lies really make them true? Do we really have to
believe in the lies of justice and mercy, in order to make them
become, to make them realities? Do we really need to believe in small
lies, like tooth fairies and Santa Claus, so that we can then believe
in big lies, like justice and mercy?
This
is relativism writ large and ridiculous. If mankind is the creator of
justice and mercy, if we create such lies by our beliefs in them,
then these lies simply take on the forms we create them in, and since
mankind would hardly be in unison about what those things would look
like, they could and will look like anything. The lie of justice
could look like trial by jury, and it could look like imprisonment
without trial. The lie of mercy could look like giving medicine to
the sick to help them live, and it could look like giving poison to
the sick to help them die.
Pratchett,
through the character of Death, gains nothing by calling these great
virtues big lies; he merely loses everything. He loses the right to
say that colliding galaxies are “not right”; he loses to right to
have a truly just city guard; he loses the right to use his books to
make social commentary; he loses the right even to write books, for
he has no right to write about heroes and villains, for he has no
standard by which he can tell us who is a hero and who is a villain.
But
the great virtues are not big lies. Pratchett can appeal to justice,
not because he or someone else created the big lie of justice, but
because there is a God who is just. He can say that something is
right or wrong because, whether he believed in it or not, there is an
absolute standard, which man did not create, by which he could judge
whether something was right or wrong.
Conclusion
There
was plenty of humor in this story, and I had a good chuckle every now
and again. And some of his satire was smart enough to smart. But,
overall, the ideas this book puts forth are not all that good. I
can't give it a rousing recommendation.