I hope that Death welcomed him with the words:
GREETINGS FRIEND.
The BBC has announced that it will this year broadcast Terry Pratchett's last story: His own. Sir Terry's Alzheimer's prevented him from finishing this work, but the BBC has completed its "poignant and humorous documentary" to tell the tale of the creator of the Discworld series of fantasy novels, whose books have sold over 85 …
Yes, like Wodehouse you must read Pratchett aloud to really savour his creative genius. I recently started my wife on him that way and she got totally hooked despite not being a reader or a fantasy fan. The same books I had read long ago suddenly took on a whole new dimension under the spell of the spoken word. Silent reading misses too many of the nuances he put into his work, particularly in the dialogue.
Years ago I was hanging wallpaper in my house,
Slightly OT, but you reminded me of something I heard on a Radio 2 Chris Addison show years ago:
"...that's why the first thing we do, when we move into a new house, is to take the previous idiot's wallpaper down and put ours up - we're marking our territory.
Now, here's a little tip. Take the idiot's wallpaper down, but before you put yours up - go to Homebase, buy a tin of blood-red paint, and write on your wall with the paint "I WILL KILL AGAIN". Wait for it to dry, then put your wallpaper up.
Now... you never actually get to see the punchline of this joke, but you do get a lovely warm feeling in about 5 years time when you hand the keys over..."
Responding to my own (well, Chris Addison's) wallpaper anecdote above - if anyone's in the slightest bit interested, the comedy program in question was "The Ape That Got Lucky", first aired 25th August 2005. Very, very funny indeed, with surreal tales of bubble-wrapping penguins, academic rivalry, and how "little dolphin" tattoos morph into Moby Dick as the tattoo-ee ages. I've just listened to it again and it's still laugh-out-loud fresh over a decade later.
It doesn't seem to be on iPlayer or YouTube any more, unfortunately, but I'm sure there are copies around for those that seek it.
Not sure why my original post received so many down votes. For the purpose of accuracy I was being very specific about eunuchs in the Ottoman Empire who only had their testicles removed. That was different from a Chinese practice where the penis was also removed.
See 18th century contemporary quote by Ali Seydi Bey in Philip Mansell's "Constantinople: City of the World's Desire, 1453-1924"
https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=LrnvC98bNSoC&pg=PT103&dq=mansel+constantinople+eunuch+seydi+bey&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwid0_bu_77RAhUCKsAKHRVJDiIQ6AEIJTAA#v=onepage&q=mansel%20constantinople%20eunuch%20seydi%20bey&f=false
Eunuchs were 'employed' more than just in the Ottoman court. I believe there were several hundred thousand at least in Chinese history. In fact, most ruling systems in the historical period had eunuchs, and probably lots before that.
It's just too easy to create them...
Otherwise they were usually fully functioning sexually.
Depends on when and how they were cut - there are various degrees of snippage. Some cultures just removed the testes, other remove the whole root and branch[1]..
[1] Which tended to have much lower survival rate - the ancient Persians used this method (generally) and the surgery was done mostly on very young boys. It also uncluded the use of a small reed to keep the urethra open until the immediate are had mostly healed. If they didn't then the children tended to die quite quickly because they couldn't urinate. Not nice.
[shakes head in disbelief]
So real humans (and presumably they were ones with balls of their own) actually sat down and thought about the fatality rate and instead of thinking "well colour me surprised" they actually went away and did some research to figure out how to do it less fatally.
Otherwise they were usually fully functioning sexually.
I think you have missed the point of the saying about literary critics. The point is that writers do produce "children" - their books - while most literary critics produce essays that are promptly forgotten. Eunuchs know exactly how babies are produced, but they don't beget them even though they may be able to sustain an erection.
Good Omens - at least, certain editions of it* - contains a set of interviews with TP and Neil Gaiman, in which they describe how they came to meet & collaborate. It's almost as funny as the book itself and well worth reading if you haven't already. A hat is involved.
(The icon is a pint of scumble, foolishly poured into a rapidly-dissolving glass.) -->
*As is typical - and actually mentioned by TP and NG in their interviews - I have owned at least 4 editions, 3 of which have been loaned out to people and never returned. My first few copies of the book didn't include the interviews and additional material, but the last one I purchased (in Oregon) did. Maybe only in the recent US editions?
@A K Stiles A PINT of scumble???!!
S'alright, I took the precaution of putting a lining on my stomach with mutton & clootie dumplings (with slumpie), first. Should protect against anything up to and including scumble.
Also. Multiple exclamation marks... you do recall what that's a sign of, hmm?
Because Kaye won't be playing the part of the OFIAH, he will be speaking the words of someone who no longer can. It's no less documentarian than the programmes on World War I where diaries of dead soldiers are read out.
(The IT angle: Pterry famously used a six-monitor display rig, and said the only reason he didn't use more was because he couldn't figure out a way to hook them up.)
"(The IT angle: Pterry famously used a six-monitor display rig, and said the only reason he didn't use more was because he couldn't figure out a way to hook them up.)"
He once told me - the first time I was in the presence of those monitors - "People ask me why I've got six monitors. I tell them 'It's becasue there isn't room for eight!'"
He also said he'd considered getting a web cam on top of them so he could see whoever was standing on the other side...
And who had an astonishing memory.
Among the 10s of thousands of people he met, I was fortunate to do so twice. Across 2 continents and 10 years apart. The second time (in Australia), he remembered me, where we were the first time (Silicon Valley), what we were doing (I bought him sushi lunch because his publisher agent was a useless c*nt and wouldn't get him anything, and then took him to a Fry's for gadget shopping). He remembered things I'd forgotten - name of the shop, other people there.
It was gobsmacking.
@Michael Hoffmann The second time (in Australia), he remembered me, where we were the first time (Silicon Valley), what we were doing (I bought him sushi lunch because his publisher agent was a useless c*nt and wouldn't get him anything, and then took him to a Fry's for gadget shopping).
I am genuinely in awe. Your interaction with him was far more noteworthy than mine.
'Twas a bookstore (Waterstones?) in Chester, somewhere around 1995. He was on a signing tour. A gangly, pimply bean-sprout of a student who had no social abilities whatsoever hesitatingly put a copy of the book in front of the Great Man and stammered out his name "David <Surname>".. to which came the gentle, oh-so-tactful reproof, "Just 'David', surely?". Cue GPBSS exiting stage Right, having a fit of conniptions at having interacted and made a fool of himself with so exalted a person.
Twenty+ years and much therapy later I can bear to remember it.
Lost the signed copy, of course. Lent it to a "friend" and never got it back, the barsteward. You Know Who You Are (but I don't).
Had a few pints with him back in the 90's, and even got invited for a curry once. His daughter's a really nice person to talk to as well.
My wife still has her alt.fan.pratchett(hedghog) t-shirt. Well, it was mine originally until a washing accident turned it pink.
And so Sir Terry lives on in the overhead, bouncing from one end of the Grand Trunk to the other,
and in also in L-space of course, or wherever else orangutans say "Ook",
and in the hearts of all his wit, and deep humanity touched.
...
And now will have to go and get a new handkerchief. I'll raise a glass once more later
The first time i met the great man (on a signing tour for The Amazing Maurice) he signed "To Chris, have you got your potato? Terry" and he was amazed and delighted when i revealed i DID have my potato round my neck :D
I cried for hours when he died, and and tearing up again at this memory. I miss you.
I think that's because he was, by all accounts, genuinely a nice, decent person.
All too often we hear that the real person behind a famous persona has feet of clay - "oh, in person he's actually kind of an asshole", or "that charm is just an act, she's actually a mean so-and-so". But I can't recall, in any interviews/programs/comments, ever hearing someone with a bad word to say about Terry Pratchett. In my own tiny encounter with him as recalled earlier in this thread, he was tact and kindness itself - he gracefully covered for my gauche flub without making me feel small in any way. A lesser or crueller man might have taken the cheap laughs option and ridiculed me for not knowing that book dedications typically don't include the surname.
@David 132: In my case they don't even include my real name. Every one is signed "to Alien". It's interesting to see how his signature changed over time, from his full name being signed to an almost illegible scribble of his initials in later books. But all signed with a humour that is deeply missed.
The Shepherd's Crown (the last Discworld book), has been sitting on my bedside table for over a year - but I can't bear to start reading it, because once it's finished, there will never be any more.
I like to think of myself as a rational being - but one of the things Sir Pterry did best was debunking the mythologies we maintain about ourselves, and I feel much richer for having his perspective on how ridiculous I really am.
Same here, mine was a gift and I cried when I got it for that very reason. I was bloody surprised when the person giving me the book said:
Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?
because they've never read any of his many wonderful volumes and had picked that up from an obituary. Made me smile though.
Not my writing, but quite appropriate
The following was circulated on the intertubes at the time...
"I would like my pudding now nurse. And then I think I'd like to... write... something... I don't remember what."
Standing in the corner, he waits. The sand slowly flows, but it nears its end. The old man still glows, as thousands of threads spread away from him.
SQUEAK.
I AGREE. IT IS A SHAME TO SEE HIM THIS WAY.
SQUEAK.
NO. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN.... BUT I CANNOT WAIT TO ASK HIM HOW IT ALL ENDS.
The old man looks up, through them at first... and then he sees them. For once, the smile on the hooded figure's skull is genuine.
"I... I remember you. The anth... ant..."
ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION.
"Yes, that. We knew each other?"
ONCE. AND WILL AGAIN, SIR.
He so rarely said it, and these feelings... remembering his young apprentice, and beloved daughter. The beautiful child they have.
"There... is a girl, yes?"
SHE IS SPEAKING TO THE AUDITORS, SIR. THEY ARE UNWILLING TO LISTEN.
"Well then. You know what they say, two things you cannot avoid. Taxes and..." He looks into the fiery blue eyes, and becomes aware.
SQUEAK.
"Quite right. Is it time already? I have so much left to do."
YOU HAVE GIVEN ALL YOU CAN SIR.
"No, not cancer. Alzheimers."
I AM AWARE.
"So, where is the boy? I remember a boy."
CARRIAGE ACCIDENT.
"Ahh. Never much trusted cars. Or horses."
THEY GET YOU WHERE YOU WANT TO GO.
"Must I?"
SOON. BUT WE MAY SIT HERE AWHILE.
SQUEAK
DO YOU HAVE ANY BISCUITS?
"No. Shame really."
YES.
"Is it truly turtles?"
ALL THE WAY DOWN. I HAVE SEEN THEM.
"Ahh. I would love to see it. Perhaps a small trip before?"
IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE.
"The light is slower there... and there's a monkey...."
ORANGUTAN. SAME PRINCIPLE.
"Yes... will they remember me?"
SQUEAK.
"What was that? I could not hear you."
HE SAYS WE WILL, SIR.
"I never much liked the trouble people had with you. You seem like a nice fellow."
I HAVE MY DAYS.
"Don't we all?"
SOME LESS THAN OTHERS.
"Is it quick?"
YES. AND I BROUGHT THE SWORD. CEREMONY DICTATES IT.
"Ahh. How about a cup of tea?"
I WOULD ENJOY IT. DO YOU PLAY CHESS?
"No. how about checkers?"
And so they sat, two old friends regaling each other, though the old man could not remember all of the details, the cloaked man and his rat filled him in, when it was needed.
- by Nick Mogavero