Terry Pratchett is, at least, a Demi-God. And whatever you may think of me for reading and re-reading his works of genius, I will not apologise. Nor will I stop. They’re witty and poignant and so cleverly written that they allow you to escape the world, whilst knowing at the same time that you’re not escaping at all. Pratchett is an observationist of the highest order. And whilst his examination that “we need to train ourselves on the little lies, so that we can fall for the big lies, like justice, mercy, things like that”, it is hidden amongst the strange, believable fiction of the disc. Point proved.
There’s no praise high enough for the creature that is Pratchett.
And today, I discovered this parody of ritual, this analysis of belief, has been brought to life with the likes of David Jason. Perhaps some of the humour, which Pratchett exhumes so well in his descriptive paragraphs and built up dialogues, is lost. But the spirit of the thing is good. Very good.
