#03 Equal Rites

"Million-to-one chances," she said, "crop up nine times out of ten."

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. Equal Rites establishes Pratchett's slightly odd but thrillingly robust version of feminism, describes the interconnectedness of all things (including monsters), and details Pratchett's contempt for the established historical record. Um? I think.
ILLUSTRATIVE QUOTE(S):
1. "Witches is a different thing altogether," snapped Granny Weatherwax. "It's magic out of the ground, not out of the sky, and men never could get the hang of it."
2. Presently the chair began to rock, of its own accord. It was the only sound in a silence that thickened and spread and filled the room like a terrible dark fog.
3. "Exactly correct. That's one form of magic, of course."
"What, just knowing things?"
"Knowing things that other people don't know," said Granny.
4. It is well known that stone can think, because the whole of electronics is based on that fact, but in some universes men spend ages looking for other intelligences in the sky without once looking under their feet. That is because they've got the time-span all wrong. From stone's point of view the universe is hardly created and mountain ranges are bouncing up and down like organ-stops while continents zip backward and forward in general high spirits, crashing into each other from the sheer joy of momentum and getting their rocks off. It is going to be quite some time before stone notices its disfiguring little skin disease and starts to scratch, which is just as well.
5. "Do you think you can lift it out by magic?" said Granny.
[...]
"No," he said. "but I'll try anyway."
TEDIOUS PERSONAL OBSERVATION: Since my first Discworld book was Wintersmith, Equal Rites is not my favorite story. Its protagonists consist of an unrefined Granny Weatherwax, who does not fully become herself until the end of the novel (in her opening scene, she is shown baby-talking at a baby), and a partially-finished version of Tiffany Aching, who is not herself at all. A sort of one-quarter-assed first-love theme curls around the edges of the plot like poison ivy, and all the imperfectly-answered questions raised by story are 'resolved' in a single paragraph that ends in a sentence which looks disturbingly like, "and they lived happily ever after." Ugh! No! Whatwhatwhat? The book's final sentiment, however, goes on to reaffirm the pointlessness of individual achievement. And collective achievement. And ant culture. And wizard magic. And people. And things. Which seems more consistent with Pratchett's general outlook, to be honest, but it's still very strange. But, I loved the Gandalf Giving Tree! I hope he comes back to visit someday in another book. (And I'm still waiting for an epic lady wizard. Girls can be self-important fools too, you know!)
IMPLEMENT OF DESTRUCTION: Again, not a killer. But you might scratch a hole in the top of your head trying to figure out exactly what Pratchett is trying to tell you here. At least, I did. Maybe you're smarter than I am.

 

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