I got on Facebook a few days ago to see that Terry Pratchett, one of my favorite authors, had died.* It’s hard to mourn for someone who wrote about the Grim Reaper with such humor. My feed was filled with messages, pictures, and --fittingly-- quotes from DEATH, one of Sir Terry’s most beloved characters, and I wanted to post something myself** to acknowledge the influence that books like Soul Music, Small Gods, Thud!, Night Watch, and Thief of Time had on me, both as a person and as a writer. “But,” said this little voice in my head, “is that really the most important thing you could be talking about?”
There are also multiple posts in my feed today about combating racism, something I also feel strongly about. So why am I more inclined to say something about one famous guy dying than I am about that?*** Well, for one thing, posting about Terry Pratchett is easier. It's innocuous. It doesn’t expose me to criticism or praise or the need to reconsider my opinions or deepen my understanding. It’s like pretty much every other thing I post on social media: trivial.****
There are also multiple posts in my feed today about combating racism, something I also feel strongly about. So why am I more inclined to say something about one famous guy dying than I am about that?*** Well, for one thing, posting about Terry Pratchett is easier. It's innocuous. It doesn’t expose me to criticism or praise or the need to reconsider my opinions or deepen my understanding. It’s like pretty much every other thing I post on social media: trivial.****
But on another level it’s not trivial at all. The reason I admire Terry Pratchett so much is the way his writing uses humor to carry a deeper meaning. There are very few of his books that I can read without literally***** laughing out loud at least once or twice, but similarly, all of his books contain meaningful, relevant insights on the world and the people in it. For example, Thud! tackles issues as diverse as racial tension, religious extremism, and board games, in the context of a humorous fantasy novel. The Discworld stories hold up a funhouse mirror to the world, so that we can laugh at ourselves and our foibles, and perhaps even learn from them. I’m reminded of a story told by David Ives in the preface to his play collection, All In The Timing******:
"[Father Henkel] was my English teacher in the rather peculiar, old-fashioned high school I attended (Catholic, all boys, jackets and ties, four years of Latin, the works). One particular afternoon Henkel was trying to focus our young attentions on Emily Dickinson. Unfortunately for Henkel (and Emily Dickinson) it was a warm spring day and we boys were feeling, well, boisterous. Faced with chaos, he laid the textbook down, climbed up onto his desk, and stood on his head. We all stopped horsing around and stared at him in stupefaction. Henkel then climbed back down, picked up the book, and said, “Let’s get back to ‘Beauty be not caused-- it is,’ page 388.” It was probably my first glimpse of the power of the theatrical: you gather an audience, you do a headstand to get everyone’s attention, and then you’re free to explore beauty, poetry, truth, the human condition, what you will." *******
There’s definitely a need for explicit discussions of those big important issues, but there is also a place and a need for people like David Ives and Terry Pratchett, who can take our big, complicated, messed up world, and show it to us in a way that makes us laugh. And then subtly, while we’re too busy laughing to notice it happen, they make us better. I think this is why TED is so successful: because we need the lectures, but we also need the art, and the comedy.
So maybe I won’t be using my Facebook account to get on my soapbox about social issues (or maybe I will). But thanks to Terry Pratchett, I’ll be reading what my friends post with a mind that’s more open, and I’ll be making art that helps to make the world into the kind of place we all want to live.******** And if what I make has half the impact on someone else that his writing had on me, I would consider myself a great success.
I’d like to end with a quote from the man himself:
So maybe I won’t be using my Facebook account to get on my soapbox about social issues (or maybe I will). But thanks to Terry Pratchett, I’ll be reading what my friends post with a mind that’s more open, and I’ll be making art that helps to make the world into the kind of place we all want to live.******** And if what I make has half the impact on someone else that his writing had on me, I would consider myself a great success.
I’d like to end with a quote from the man himself:
“Take it from me, whenever you see a bunch of buggers puttering around talking about truth and beauty [...] you can bet your sandals it's all because dozens of other poor buggers are doing all the real work around the place.”*********
After all of my philosophical musings on the value of art, it seemed right to end with something that seems to totally undercut my point. But I like this quote because it challenges my way of thinking, but invites me to continue thinking, which, in a roundabout way, actually serves to illustrate my point.
Did that get you thinking? Mission accomplished.
Did that get you thinking? Mission accomplished.
* In honor of his memory, this post will be full of footnotes.
** I can’t quite articulate why a social media post seems like a good response to a celebrity dying. They don’t need my attention, they’re dead. Their family doesn’t need my sympathy, they’re not going to read it anyway. I didn’t understand it with Robin Williams, or Joan Rivers, or even Leonard Nimoy a few days ago. And now that I’m doing it, I still don’t understand it. Odd.
*** With everything that’s happening in the world, what does it say about us that we spend so much energy grieving over one full, successful (white) life?****
**** Not to say that the loss of a great entertainer isn’t important. For better or worse, it’s probably more important than the majority of things the internet pays attention to.
***** Just to be clear, I'm using the word ‘literally’ literally in this case.
****** A collection of plays which has had a similar impact on me.
******* All in the Timing, 1995, page xii. Emphasis mine.
******** I debated using the word ‘try’ in this sentence to make it sound less presumptuous about the potential impact of my own art. But if I didn’t believe that I could be successful, I wouldn’t be doing it. Deciding to be an artist is inherently a declaration of confidence. Or foolhardiness. Or both.
********* Said by Om, towards the end of Small Gods.
** I can’t quite articulate why a social media post seems like a good response to a celebrity dying. They don’t need my attention, they’re dead. Their family doesn’t need my sympathy, they’re not going to read it anyway. I didn’t understand it with Robin Williams, or Joan Rivers, or even Leonard Nimoy a few days ago. And now that I’m doing it, I still don’t understand it. Odd.
*** With everything that’s happening in the world, what does it say about us that we spend so much energy grieving over one full, successful (white) life?****
**** Not to say that the loss of a great entertainer isn’t important. For better or worse, it’s probably more important than the majority of things the internet pays attention to.
***** Just to be clear, I'm using the word ‘literally’ literally in this case.
****** A collection of plays which has had a similar impact on me.
******* All in the Timing, 1995, page xii. Emphasis mine.
******** I debated using the word ‘try’ in this sentence to make it sound less presumptuous about the potential impact of my own art. But if I didn’t believe that I could be successful, I wouldn’t be doing it. Deciding to be an artist is inherently a declaration of confidence. Or foolhardiness. Or both.
********* Said by Om, towards the end of Small Gods.
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