My Sombre Goodbye to Terry Pratchett

My Sombre Goodbye to Terry Pratchett:

Having been an avid reader since my childhood, and having been born in the United Kingdom, it can be of little surprise that I am a keen fan of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. However, I am not only an ardent admirer of his work (which I feel has been somewhat under-appreciated amongst the highest echelons of the literati), I became highly appreciative of the man behind the books.  With his death much on mind since he sadly passed away in March 2015, I would like to dedicate a humble article to his memory. I do not doubt his memory will live on until the crack of doom, but if I can play a tiny part in that, I would only be too happy to do so.

I can remember being at primary school when I first came across one of his books. I took Only You Can Save Mankind home and read it within a couple of days. My maternal grandmother, also a keen reader, was pleased that I was reading a Pratchett novel. She told me, “There is an entire section dedicated to him at WH Smith’s.” If you are British, you will know that is the epitome of popular success for a writer.

Within a couple of years, I had started reading the Discworld series. Most memorably, I liked the Death sequence, and they remain my favourites (sorry, Rincewind). For those of you who have not read Terry Prathett’s Discworld series, Death is a major character in them. He cameos in many, and is the protagonist in a few. On a personal note, I think that Pratchett’s writing is hugely successful for that reason; he takes concepts and truths which humans fear and turns them into something humorous.

The beauty of the Discworld, at least for me, is how very human it is. It’s hugely satirical, and it’s easy to spot the institutions which Pratchett dissects, not with a stinging critique, but with a wry quip. Although it does help to be British to fully understand his work, he utilises Hindu, Buddhist and ancient Egyptian culture in his fantasy series (not to mention the rich tapestry of European folk tales which are parodied, too).

If you haven’t read his books, I would advise you to give them a try. Although it is advised to read them in chronological order, like any writer, he improves with time. I prefer his later works, but it is ultimately up to you when and if you do.

Away from his books, Pratchett was a man whom actively used his status as a celebrated writer to raise awareness about a variety of issues. Like myself, Pratchett was a member of the British Humanist Association (I do believe that he donated far more to their cause than I ever could, however).  His most famous quote to mind is that he would rather be a rising ape than a falling angel – something which resonated so strongly with me that I bought the poster and put it up in my classroom.

As well as being a famous skeptic and rationalist, Pratchett also raised awareness about early-onset Alzheimer’s as he suffered from a rare form of the disease, posterior cortical atrophy, in which the areas at the back of the brain begin to shrivel up and shrink. Not only did Pratchett suffer from this, he was brave enough to go public and show the world how the disease had significant consequences for his daily life. I truly admired his courage, but I felt genuine pangs of sadness to see such a great man, a man dependent on his rich intellect, perversely brought down by a truly cruel disease.

He donated one million pounds of his personal fortune to Alzheimer’s research , knowing that any cure developed would surely come too late for himself.

Nonetheless, Pratchett didn’t only raise awareness for issues which impacted on his life; he was also instrumental in bringing to light the near extinction of the Orangutang. He was a trustee for the Orangutang Foundation UK.  He even went so far as to create a character in his books to further draw attention to this issue: a wizard at the Unseen University was accidentally turned into a Orangutang, but chooses to remain as one as it suits the nature of his work (as he is a librarian). However, the only word he can say is ook, yet all the wizards can understand what this word means – well, they are magic, after all.

Pratchett released two documentaries on the plight of the Orangutang, one in 1994, and the other in 2013. Having followed one male ape through the humid jungles of Borneo, named Kusasi, Pratchett decided to see if he can find him, but also to witness the legacy Kusasi has created. The intertwining of the fate of the Orangutang and Pratchett himself, just two years before his death, was unmistakable, and added to the sense of tragedy in the excellent documentary.

The first and only time I saw Sir Terry Pratchett was in 2011 at a one man stage show – aptly titled An Evening with Terry Pratchett – which was more a less a plug for his latest book release, Snuff. He was full of his wry humour, self-deprecating to the last, and it just felt great to meet a man I greatly admired.

I am not one for hero worship, or making god out of mere human mammals. Yet, if there ever was a man to admire, it is Sir Terry Pratchett. Humble, intelligent, rational, pro-science, brave, witty, bizarre, fantastical, brave – this man’s death is a loss to humanity.