I've watched the development of Terry Pratchett as an author with deep interest, since I was about 13 or 14 (Whoa! Ten years ago! Urrk!). I really love the wacky humour, although Terry insists that only redheads in 50's sitcoms are wacky... I disagree. Wacky (or whacky) is a state of mind, rather like "thinking bendy rather than straight" or "seeing what's really there", which are important life-lessons cunningly disguised as groaning humour with a Bad Ass (i.e. disobedient donkey) attitude.

We all know that the Patrician is about as straight as a corkscrew in a tornado (cf Men at Arms), and is therefore quite jolly trustworthy, as despots go. I tend to find that most of Terry's major characters think too much (a damaging trait I also share) and the main protagonists of the various novels are all extremely clever and have a way of seeing the universe without the usual rosy glow at the bottom of a bottle of Bearhugger's Old Persnickety, for example. If Vimes is always two drinks short of sobriety, Granny Weatherwax may need the entire bottle just to see the world in a normal light. Oh well, headology aside, the more Psych. you study, the more Psycho you become (I've seen the Honours students...).

I was wondering what happened to, say, the little wizard girl in Equal Rites, and the author's obvious fascination with little girl characters - and along comes Polly (Oliver) and Tiffany Aching, who manage to entertain more angst and hatred of the general universe than any child has a right to have. I found out about a Greek playwright, Aristophanes (I bought the plays second hand, so now I know who's who), who portrayed female characters sympathetically - unusual in Classical Greece, to say the least - especially in the three plays (one of which was Lysistrata) wherein the women basically take over the running of Greece and turn it into a giant parliamentary democracy, while the men - thwarted in war when their wives refused them their, er, marital rights until they stopped fighting - take up spinning and weaving and winemaking. Well, the author rather reminds me of Aristophanes. I've never come across a fantasy author who treats women as actual protagonists instead of as Screaming Fainting Extra #1, or Helpless Damsel in Distress #5092. No one could get the better of, say, Granny Weatherwax. I like the even mix of characters, and the way, for example, that Sacharissa is treated as William de Worde's equal in The Truth, without needing to be a fearsome magic practitioner.

I generally find that women characters turn to "magic" or mysticism, or what I like to refer to as The UN-natural, in order to get the better of their male counterparts so as to be treated with respect. I know some feminists would see this as "empowerment", but I disagree. Female characters shouldn't NEED to earn respect. They should be respected for who they are, instead of being treated as Insufficiently-clothed Sex Objects. I detest it; most feminist fantasy authors, - Marion Zimmer Bradley springs to mind - in protest, turn their Female Lead into a high druid priestess (there was no such thing) or some sort of completely chaste mage-ess who dresses in white and is unaproachable. But to my mind, this is another form of stereotyping. Women shouldn't need to use bizarre sooper-natural powers or become idolised Virgin stereotypes in order to be protagonists. We have minds, we are just discouraged from using them (??correct grammar?). And Tolkien's Archer, Legolas, could just as easily be female. But then, much as I love Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, they were rather behind on interacting with women (I blame all-male public schools). At least Lucy can handle a bow in battle, although Susan is way too "grown-up" to bother. The bit in The Horse and His Boy where Corin says that Lucy is "as good as a boy" has always stuck in my craw somewhat... Ah well, you can't expect miracles in the 50's, can you? At least Lucy or Jill were decent female protagonists in their own right, although that dratted Mouse, Reepicheep, was always ready to defend Lucy's honour with his knitting needle - ooops, I mean sword. But then, I like knightly values and decent codes of manly behaviour, like having doors opened for me; the feminist movement rather threw the baby out with the bath-water there. I just prefer to be appreciated as a human being, rather than as a part of the furniture, or a body with no head. If men want to know what women want - it's that. To be treated as an actual person. So well done, Terry. Your sensitivity is appreciated...

I really do think that the time of female wizards has come. Unseen University needs a co-ed program, and Ponder Stibbons ought to have some sort of female Leonard da Quirm helping with his experiments. She is NOT allowed to have glasses. Glasses do not indicate intelligence; the most they may indicate is myopia or stiff internal lenses in the eye, as is the case in most late-onset myopia anyway. She is to be average-looking, into astro-physics, and a firm believer that Great A'Tuin is female, on the basis that no-one can demonstrably prove otherwise. In other words, Polly "Oliver" crossed with Susan Sto Helit. Ponder is not allowed to fall in love with her, even though he does follow her around to see what happens next. And she manages to wrap Ridcully round her little finger, by using his own management-ese on him. If she speaks in really looooong words, he's sure to be baffled anyway. Oh, and he takes her hunting a lot, simply because she reminds him of the daughter he never had (in this temporal universe, at least. Although I don't think temporal universes exist, on the basis that they can't be demonstrably proven. Haha). I don't see why wizards aren't allowed to have... up to three children, at the most. Which should prevent any sourcerers popping up, while ensuring a goodly supply of wizards. It's logical.

When is Carrot gonna marry Angua? It's about time, really. And Nobby should find his perfect (and blind, presumably) woman, too. As long as Angua's progeny don't end up with toooo much hair, although you never know. Maybe one child will end up joining his Uncle Sheepdog in Mouldavia, and carry on the family tradition of championship-winning....

I've always loved the way the author takes a whole play, or book, or historical character - or even belief system - and puts a bizarre spin on it. Like taking zen and taoist philosophies and applying them to time-management (cf the History Monks). Sam Vimes is thus a view of the Victorian Sir Robert Peel; I resolve to read about the guy and see just how closely His Grace His Excellency Sir Samuel Vimes (blackboard monitor) mirrors his counterpart. I'm really getting fond of the City Watch, although Mayonnaise Quirke doesn't count. He's thick, rich and oily, and slightly sulphurous-smelling (misbegotten... wretch, so he is). Sometimes, one just has to quote Truckle the Uncivil.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that there was a barbarian chieftain named Bruce the Hoon in Interesting Times. I thought the Hoons were peace-loving barge-traders and had no concept of lying or fighting? (Aargh. Zoons, not Hoons. This is what happens when you neglect to read the early books before mouthing off...) I would so LOVE to read a book about them. You know, with Druid super-computers (aka stone circles), weird creatures fromma dawna time, like the pones in The Carpet People or the dromes in Wee Free Men, a fascinating cast of characters, interesting insights into human nature, plenty of pseudo-science (haha - most theoretical science, in other words) and, yes, NO CREATURES FROM THE DUNGEON DIMENSIONS. I hate the undead. Or at the very least, the unliving. Blasted things, dhlangs are. If I could ride around on a white horse (glowing for dramatic effect), or p'raps borrow one of Elijah's fiery chariot horses, killing any and all nasty demonic creatures that torment children in their nightmares... there would be no need for Armageddon. Ooops. But at least my heart's in the right place.

Wouldn't it be lovely it there was a problem with Great A'Tuin (although, of course, it wouldn't be lovely for anyone on the disc) and Ponder has to help the Hoons find her a mate? Naaah. Thinking up good discworld plots is harder than it looks...

I came across a wonderful painting of A'Tuin on the Discworld Compendium's Fanart site; I borrowed it for my L-space page. It does have a strange sense of deep melancholia - why would a galactic star turtle be depressed? The mind boggles. She really does need a mate. Can you imagine? When Star Turtles Collide. I foresee a line of little turtles following A'Tuin, and the last one is of course lagging behind in a humorous way (Disney conventions strike again.) Little A'tuin 1, 2, 3 and ..... whoops, 4. Yes - he just missed that little nebula over there. All five of his little elephants were looking worried.