I do love a Terry Pratchett novel. So much. He takes on any subject with aplomb and many opinions. Hogfather is, perhaps unexpectedly, about Christmas - or "Hogswatchnight," if you will. But of course, since it's Pratchett, it's not really about Christmas. It's about belief and stories and magic and death and computers and AI and being sensible. And somehow, through the magic and wit that is Sir Terry, it all works remarkably well.
Pratchett's novels (at least the one's I've read thus far - there are about a billion and a half, so other themes are bound to show up) often deal with belief: the nature of, how to encourage it, what happens when it ceases. In the Discworld, things exist because people believe in them, those things being gods, Death, the Verruca Gnome, or the Hogfather. His characters wax philosophical, saying, "What good's a god who gives you everything you want? ...It's the hope that's important. Big part of belief, hope." Yes, Discworld novels are full of ridiculous puns, and daffy wizards, and sometimes head-scratching plotting [0] - but then there are jewels like this. Thoughts about the nature of belief that make you (or at least me) go, "Huh. Yeah. I maybe actually really agree with that."
Lest we think that it's all high phrases and deep philosophy, Pratchett also puts us in our place - humans, he often writes, are rather ridiculous and sometimes very stupid. We have our redeeming qualities, sure; the ability to believe, to tell stories, to be kind. But just in case we're getting too big for our britches, Pratchett has the almost-sentient computer Hex state, +++Humans Are Not Always Wrong+++ [0.5]. I have a whole different blogpost to come about double negation/counterfactuals, but suffice it to say that "not-negative" isn't the same as "positive" (Think about "I liked him" vs. "I didn't not like him"). "Humans are not always wrong" is quite different from "Humans are frequently right."
We also get this sassy bit of dialog between two wizards (wizards, of course, being parodies of academics): "He [Hex, the almost-or-rather-very-nearly-certainly sentient computer] just looks like he's thinking, right?" "Er...yes." "But he's not actually thinking?" "Er...no." "So...he just gives the impression of thinking but really it's just a show?" "Er...yes." "Just like everyone else, then, really." Humans are beautiful, Pratchett says - so complex and interesting that Death and War and other anthropomorphic embodiements of ideas are drawn to them and pick up their characteristics; yes, they are beautiful, but they're also lazy, and somewhat silly.
But before I get utterly derailed meditating on human follies and fortunes, back to Hogfather. Ancient magic gets repurposed to new jobs. It's very much a "conservation of matter" law, except in the context of belief and magic. In the case of the Hogfather - he who was once god of Thunder and Sunrises is now the jolly, toy-giving Spirit of
And one final quote from Hogfather, because it's just so quotable. One of the wizards wants to interview (at length) somebody's who's been resuscitated: "I really should talk to him, sir. He's had a near-death experience!" To which his superior replies, "We all have. It's called 'living.' "
xo,
Devo
[0] The shopping carts and snow globes of
[0.5] Another thing I love about Pratchett's novels is the use of different typography/punctuation conventions to convey non-human speech. The computer gets +++Something Like This+++, Death speaks in small caps (which of course I can't figure out how to do on this machine), and the Auditors get no quotation marks.
[1] Ancient magic makes me think of Card's Enchantment, to which, if I were more awake, I'd draw some more comparisons.
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