Sadly, there can be no more Discworld, at least not by its original author. March 12th, despite being the 8th birthday of my cousin Ava and the 14th birthday of my friend Megan, also happened to be the day that Sir Terry died of Alzheimer's. On the bright side, I think that it must help readers to get over the death of a favorite author when said author created a humorous Death WHO TALKS ALL IN CAPITALS. HELLO, SIR TERRY. WE MEET IN PERSON AT LAST.
Anyway!
Equal Rites. The first two Discworld books feature Rincewind, a wizard who only knows one spell, and Twoflower, the Disc's first tourist. Equal Rites introduces a new set of characters, bringing us into the world of witches, wizards who are not failures, and the inner workings of the Unseen University, where wizards are educated.
One stormy day, Drum Billet arrives in the little town of Bad Ass, high up in the Ramtops. He knows that he will die in approximately six minutes, but before he does, he must pass on his wizardly powers to an eighth son of an eighth son. Unfortunately, the specific newborn baby destined to become a wizard...is a girl. When you only have six minutes left of life, it's a bit hard to find a different baby to give your magic staff to, and so Drum Billet has no time to correct his mistake, and Eskarina Smith becomes the Disc's first female wizard. As she grows up, Granny Weatherwax, Bad Ass' witch, believes that she can train Esk to be a witch, but it soon becomes apparent that it's no good. Esk has learned the ways of witches quickly, but the wizard magic just aches to come bursting out of her. The only way around it is to get Esk accepted to the all-male Unseen University and have her properly trained up. In their journey, Granny and Esk must face cities, innkeepers, rivers, low-quality travel, stuttering boys, monstrous Things, and the prejudices of the University's faculty.
The most obvious thing about all Discworld books is that they are FUNNY. (No, I was not being Death just then.) He was an absolute master of typical British humor, which means that none of the humor in Discworld is at all typical. He made it his own, inserting various silly bits, such as a part where a caravan leader is reflecting on the event of a group of gnolls--goblin-like creatures that prey on travellers--exploding all over the campsite before they could kill more than one person. "Gander considered that gnolls didn't look any better inside than out. He hated their guts." (p. 131) I was brushing my teeth at the time and I nearly choked on my toothpaste. After that, I wandered around weakly, repeating, "He hated their guts...! He hated their guts...!" It was perhaps a little sad, but still. It's one of those Discworld moments that take you completely by surprise, and so you snort. Another example, this one from The Light Fantastic, is, "'Precisely,' said a passing bush." Oh, die. And of course having a village named Bad Ass creates all sorts of opportunity. Most of it manifests itself in all of the inhabitants finding it so normal, and so saying the name thoroughly offhandedly. If you visit the hundred-house Ohulan Cutash once or twice a year, you're "a really cosmopolitan Bad Assian". It's silly enough, and then you invent a demonym... Oh dearie me.
Sir Terry also knew exactly when to capitalize words to make them more amusing. The monsters from the Dungeon Dimensions are not things, They are Things. Who knows what They might do if you accidentally let Them into the world?
Another bit of silliness is purposeful misspellings. They make any book so much better, and here's an example (a letter from Granny to the University):
"To ther Hed Wizzard,
Unsene Universety,
Greatings, I hop you ar well, I am sending to you won Escarrina Smith, shee hath the maekings of wizzardery but whot may be ferther dun wyth hyr I knowe not shee is a gode worker and clene about hyr person allso skilled in diuerse arts of thee howse, I will send Monies wyth hyr May you liv longe and ende youre days in pese, And oblije, Esmerelder Weatherwaxe (Mss) Wytch." (p. 75)
It's all absurd and ridiculous and amusing (but not, as Sir Terry reminds us after the dedication, wacky or zany).
But under all the silliness, Sir Terry always managed to insert very true observations about people, mostly about how ridiculous we are. Sometimes it's a little more towards the positive side, especially in this book, where your two main characters are not total idiots who are simply prime examples of messed-up people. Esk and Granny have a few more pleasant traits than Rincewind and Twoflower do. But the message of Discworld is not "people are absurd," it's "people are absurd and life is the most hilarious thing ever, oh look a disc-shaped world being carried by four giant elephants standing on the back of a galactic turtle named Great A'Tuin who is flying through space." And on the Disc, not only is life hilarious, but death is too--well, Death, anyway. He gets called away from a cocktail party, he gets accused of murder, etc. Death on the Discworld is probably the best Death of any world in existence.
The creativity and variety of Discworld is endless. All the countries, the languages, the customs, and the jokes, on top of Sir Terry's ideas about other worlds and universes--an author speaking through his characters. It's an entirely brilliant world.
I very, very, very highly doubt that there will ever be a Discworld book that I will have anything about which to complain (in fact, my degree of belief that this will happen is so small that the only real number to express it is 0). I don't think that I enjoyed Equal Rites as much as The Color of Magic and The Light Fantastic, but I just think that I prefer reading about Rincewind and Twoflower. Besides, Death only came up once in Equal Rites, and he appears multiple times in the first two books, and also, I am sure, in the following books. Mort, which comes right after Equal Rites, is all about Death, pretty much. I'm excited. If you've read the Discworld books that I've read and Death is not your favorite character, I do not know what to do for you.
In short, I would recommend Equal Rites to anyone who reads Discworld, and I would recommend Discworld to anyone who's alive. And possibly anyone who's dead, as well. Maybe Death can get hold of some copies to give to his harvest. I am so excited to read Mort, although I have no idea whatsoever when that will be, considering that I have loads of other books to read (and I have somehow acquired four more books in the past two weeks). Come on, any author who received a knighthood has got to be fantastic.
P.S. Here's a bit from The Light Fantastic. Rincewind and Twoflower are on a flying rock being controlled by druids, and Twoflower is giving the druids culture shock by showing them his almanac. Rincewind is trying to explain to Twoflower what culture shock is and why you should not give it to a man flying a thousand-ton rock. He gives examples from the almanac (not a perfect quote, more than likely): "'...that has little chatty bits saying things like "Now is a good time to plant broad beans" and "Early to rise, early to bed, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and dead"...'"
Oh, die. It was just so incredibly unexpected, you know?
"Healthy, wealthy, and dead...! Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and dead...!"
Me weakly falling about again.