#02 The Light Fantastic

You haven't really been anywhere until you've got back home

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? Epic fantasy novels are required, apparently by Royal Edict, to feature some sort of great cataclysm at their hearts, some terrible unmaking and remaking of the invented world and its exotic yet familiar people — and for the Discworld, this stupendous event is described in The Light Fantastic. Because Pratchett is Pratchett (and not, for example, Tolkien), he gets the holocaust out of the way early, and treats it like a performance of the type of magic trick that ends with a smile and an, I believe this is your card? Pratchett doesn't seem to relish violence, or scenes of simple-minded combat between Good and Evil (presumably because such conflicts would by necessity involve each of his characters standing alone in front of a mirror in a dark room, poking themselves in the eyes), so he instead makes use of the more traditional battle engines of Destruction and Creation. This works out much better, and far less pompously. But no on-scene oliphaunts :[
ILLUSTRATIVE QUOTE(S):
1. "The air thickened and swirled. The pages of the book began to crinkle in a quite horrible, deliberate way, and blue light spilled out from between them. The silence of the room crowded in like a fist, slowly being clenched."
2. "Something was taking shape inside the fireball. Galder shielded his eyes and peered at the shape forming in front of him. There was no mistaking it. It was the universe. He was quite sure of this, because he had a model of it in his study and it was generally agreed to be far more impressive than the real thing. Faced with the possibilities offered by seed pearls and silver filigree, the Creator had been at a complete loss. But the tiny universe inside the fireball was uncannily — well, real. The only thing missing was color. It was all in translucent misty white. [...] The little embryo universe began to move slowly, tilting... Galder tried to shout, but his voice refused to come out. Gently, but with the unstoppable force of an explosion, the shape expanded. He watched in horror, and then in astonishment, as it passed through him as lightly as a thought. He held out a hand and watched the pale ghosts of rock strata stream through his fingers in busy silence. Great A'Tuin had already sunk peacefully below floor level, larger than a house. The wizards behind Galder were waist deep in seas. A boat smaller than a thimble caught Galder's eye for a moment before the rush carried it through the walls and away. 'To the roof!' he managed, pointing a shaking finger skyward. Those wizards with enough marbles left to think with and enough breath to run followed him, running through continents that sleeted smoothly through the solid stone."
3. "[...T]he Horse Tribes of the Hubland steppes were born in the saddle, which Rincewind considered was a gynecological impossibility, and they were particularly adept at natural magic, since life on the open steppe makes you realize how neatly the sky fits the land all around the edges and this naturally inspires the mind to deep thoughts like 'Why?,' 'When?,' and 'Why don't we try beef for a change?'"
TEDIOUS PERSONAL OBSERVATION: I like this book! The trolls are even less recognizable than Death was in The Color of Magic, but they're sweet. And The Light Fantastic features a surprise visit by an early prototype of Agnes Nutter! For what more could anyone ask? We also begin our acquaintance with Cohen the Barbarian, one of the finest heroes to be devised by men, and we are allowed to witness the creation of his mighty war-dentures. And! Here there is one of the best and loveliest finales ever written to describe a great metaphysical disaster; I wish there was a real religion extant in the West that believed in things as sensible as World Turtles. I might not join it, but I would feel better about being alive.
IMPLEMENT OF DESTRUCTION: This book is a bit melancholy because it describes one kind of goodbye, but it's not fatal. If you'd like, you can warm up for the rest of the series by practice-jumping in and out of a first floor window. Just, you know, to get the hang of things and work on your extension.

 

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