#31 Monstrous Regiment

I guess one-tenth of nothing is not as bad as nothing, but I was never that good at philosophy

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? Monstrous Regiment deals with many important things, including the sanitary disposal of oppressive, misogynistic religion, the comical futility of patriotism, the enduring power of prayer, and the secret thoughts of women. Also, once you've read it, you will never look at the Duke of Wellington with the same eyes again. You will look at the Duke of Wellington with sad, lonely eyes that say: "Oh, Ethel. Please. You aren't fooling anybody."
ILLUSTRATIVE QUOTE(S): "Jackrum stood there, shining like the sunset. The light glinted off his shako badge, polished to the point where it would blind the incautious with its terrible gleam. His face was red, but his jacket was redder, and his sergeant's sash was the pure quill of redness, its very essence, the red of dying stars and dying soldiers. Blood dripped off the cutlasses thrust into his belt." (By the time you meet them, these will be four of the most important sentences you've ever read.)
TEDIOUS PERSONAL OBSERVATION: This time, I got all the way to page nine before I burst into tears! New record! In case you were harboring any delusions of making it out of here alive, check this out. I lived every moment of this novel in mortal terror that Sergeant Jackrum would up and die at me, mostly because I couldn't bear to contemplate any of the other characters doing it themselves. If I only belatedly noticed the connection between the 'world turned upside down' leitmotif and the characterization of Jackrum as a planet — he is described as being perfectly spherical, his belt is "equatorial," he exerts a gravitational force — it's only because I am what the French call "le idiot," and that isn't Pratchett's fault at all. (Sorry, man.)
A long time ago I sort of suggested that, in fantasy novels, it's easy to identify an author's sentimental attachments if you can determine how much of the known world magic is allowed to replace; in Monstrous Regiment, for example, Pratchett carefully removes his most magical characters at the moment he makes his most exclamatory point (he brings them back later). So, for me, this is not so much a "fantasy story" as it is "a desperate prayer to the very soul of humankind, utilizing the beloved characters of the Discworld for dramatic effect." Monstrous Regiment is my favorite Discworld novel, partly because it is stereotypically beautifully-written, partly because it is really, really funny, partly because it is appropriately and attractively gay, and partly because I can only make it to page nine before I burst into anguished, childish tears. (And when the night is dark and the wind is wild in the treetops, I like to pretend that Tonker is secretly Nymphadora Tonks, liberated from her sagging domestick chains in Harry Potter and the and fully consummated as a character. It's this thing I do.)
IMPLEMENT OF DESTRUCTION: Take your last empty birth-control-pill container and wedge it gently but firmly up your left nostril until you make contact with your brain and achieve the sweet silent oblivion of the grave.

 

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