I've resorted to reading Terry again. I'd given him a little break mainly because I've read most of his Discworld series and couldn't find the ones I didn't have. But this weekend, in between the frantic - "we must get this presentation ready or the world will come to an end" - and -"oh God, we're all going to get fired" - or -" are these people insane?" ; I skated into the little bookshop in St. James and bought myself a stack of "read in the wee hours of the morning books" (since I no longer have a life and that's when I do all my reading). I felt somewhat like Jeff Goldblum when he spins his iBook around to the Bill Pullman in Independence Day, "Mr. President, the clock is ticking!"
In my run, I picked up two previously unowned Pratchett's. I was in the shop for all of 15 minutes so I might have missed a few others, people, if you see them, please leave them be, I'm a desperate woman who needs some laughs. Or I might go Postal. I l might have mentioned a time or dozen that I love Terry Pratchett's work. In the days when I actually wrote something, Greg, an Australian friend, turned me on to Terry because my style was very similar. Or so Greg thought anyway and I thank him, it did wonders for MY ego. I then went out and bought every Pratchett book I could lay my hands on, I even got Michael and several other friends to lug them in from the UK for me. The Discworld series are satirical send-ups on Government and they remind me very much of where I live. Fellow Pratchett fans can relate to the idea of building over buildings until you have a whole subterranean world. Ankh Morpork is Port of Spain, we too have a river that catches fire and no water to put it out. It's hilarious, in a sick sort of way.
For those of you who may not have read him, Pratchett is sort of like JRR Tolkien who also wrote satirical novels using "fairytale" characters. Except Terry is a LOT funnier. He lends a perspective that is helpful, you learn to laugh, lest you think longingly of all those movies where people lose it, shoot everybody and then become heroes. Those of us, for whom Terry makes the world a better place, hope that he can go on for a little longer. He's got one of those dread 20th century diseases where your mind turns to mush.
You know, for every writer there is the hope that someone will read your stuff and connect with it. That it will make them laugh/cry/connect or influence them in some way. The goal of the writer is not merely to sell books for pots of money, though that you can is not a necessarily a bad thing, it is to comment on life in some form or fashion. Hats off to Muse, Elspeth and everybody else who's trying. One of these days when I re-join the ranks of people who are real, I trust I'll pick up the slack. Until then, thanks for keeping me sane Terry ( and my fellow bloggers!).