“A civilization runs on words, Your Reverence. Civilization is words. Which, on the whole, should not be too expensive. The world turns, Your Reverence, and we must spin with it.”
Discworld started out as a fantasy world with a medieval flavour. A flat Earth floating through space on the back of the giant turtle A’Tuin. However, over the course of more than forty novels, the winds of change blow over the world and over its capital city, Ankh-Morpork, bringing about new fashions and new inventions, like moving pictures, banks, trains and ‘clacks’ than can relay messages across vast distances.
Some people embrace the change, other bemoan the passing of the good old times, just as in our own spherical world. Some people, like the Patrician, try to steer the ship of state through these turbulent times. Others, like the young scion of a noble family named William de Worde, need to be trampled over by a runaway cart in order to hammer a new idea into their heads.
“The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret?”
The cart that hits young William is carrying the first printing press made of moving metal bits into Ankh-Morpork, just invented by the dwarves coming to the city to turn lead into gold [in the true way, the way that makes you sweat and toil at your task].
Together, William and the dwarves publish the ‘The Ankh-Morpork Times’, ushering in a new episode of the Industrial Revolution on Discworld. The birth of the fourth estate will make a lot of people ‘fret’ before they correct the spelling to ‘free’, giving us, the readers, one of the funniest adventures in the whole series while on the sidelines we get to debate the nature of truth, of the public as consumers of news and of power hungry little tyrants who dream of hitching this powerful force to their chariots.
Of course, the truth hid in some unlikely places and had some strange handmaidens.
“Let’s go to press,” he said.
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“Ah, you’re visitors to our fair city?” said the thief. “Then this is your lucky day, sir and ... sir. A theft of twenty-five dollars entitles you to immunity from further street theft for a period of full six months plus, for this week only, the choice of this handsome box of crystal wine glasses or a useful set of barbecue tools, which will be the envy of your friends.”
If you are a new reader for the series, don’t fret, Ankh-Morpork welcomes anyone, as long as they carry some form of currency on their person. Once you get past the Assassin’s Guild, you might attract the attention of the City Guards or of the wizards of Unseen University before stopping to try one of the sausages-inna-bun from Cut-Me-Own-Throat-Dibbler. You might want to steer clear of Foul Ole Ron and his merry band of homeless vagabonds.
William de Worde meets just about everybody who is somebody in Ankh-Morpork as he roams the city streets in search of stories worthy to be included in his new publication, from lord Vetinari and Captain Vimes all the way down to the stinking places favoured by Foul Ole Ron and his gang. Pretty soon, de Worde will need assistance with the news, which comes in the form of a very personable and proper young lady named Sacharissa Cripslock, and of a young vampire iconographer from Uberwald named Otto, who has sworn a blood-temperance oath yet has a morbid fascination with intense light sources and with its opposite, called ‘darklight’.
“Zer philosopher Heidehollen tells us zat the universe is just a cold soup of time, all time mixed up together, and vot we call zer passage of time is merely qvantum fluctuations in zer fabric of space-time.”
“You have very long winter evenings in Uberwald, don’t you”
It’s hard for me to pick a winner in this terrific ensemble piece that features guest appearances from so many old friends in Ankh-Morpork. The newcomers hold their own well, from the earnest William to the pragmatic Cassandra and scientific-minded Otto. I must make a special award somehow for Gaspode, the talking dog, who becomes here a source of information about government conspiracies known as ‘Deep Bone’.
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Make Ankh-Morpork Great Again
The novel was published in 2000, many years before the terms ‘post-truth’ and ‘stochastic terrorism’ became common coinage. Yet such is the predictive talent of the best science-fiction authors to notice current trends in world events and extrapolate the most likely outcomes in their fiction.
... his father was right about one thing, at least, when he’d said that lies could run around the world before the truth could get its boots on. And it was amazing how people wanted to believe them.
William de Worde wants to publish truthful stories, but not everybody signs in on this agenda. Almost immediately after the first issue of the A-M Times, a new paper is published by the guild of wood engravers, sponsored by dark money and filled with sensational stories and conspiracy theories. The public seems more interested in this ‘yellow’ press of gossip and outright invention than in the investigative efforts of William.
There were no flies on C.M.O.T. Dibbler. He would have charged them rent.
Even more dangerously, a self-appointed Committee to Unelect the Patrician is plotting to bring down lord Vetinari and replace him with one of their own yes-men. Putting a muzzle on the idealist young William is very high on their agenda.
The main plot of the novel deals with this palace coup and the role of investigative reporters in a healthy society, but recent events make me pay more attention to the dark side of the PRESS, putting a slight hint of despair into the numerous funny scenes from the novel. Ankh-Morpork is not only undergoing an Industrial Revolution: it is also experiencing an influx of migrants from far away places and from different species than the main population: dwarves, trolls, gnomes, werewolves, vampires, Igors, undeads and others. The old guard feels threatened by this ‘invasion’ of otherness.
The following quotes should give you an idea about what the issues are:
“There’s just too many people in the city,” Mr. Windling repeated. “I’ve nothing against .... outsiders, heavens know, but Vetinari let it go far too far. Everyone knows we need someone who is prepared to be a little more firm.”
“Why not? You can sell as many lies as you like if it’s advertising. That’s allowed,” said Saccharissa. “Please? We need the money!”
“Be careful. People like to be told what they already know. Remember that. They get uncomfortable when you tell them new things. New things ... well, new things aren’t what they expect.”
“That’s what Mr. Carney says. People should be allowed to choose, he said.”
“To choose what’s true?”
The last one is an argument for the ‘yellow’ press, compared here with one of C. M. O. T. Dibbler sausages: “Filled with rubbish of suspicious origin?”
“If we don’t make an effort all they’ll get is silly ... stories about talking dogs and Elves Ate My Gerbil, so don’t give me lectures on what’s important and what’s not, understand? ... and I might add, about humorous vegetables!
Lord de Worde was never wrong. It was not a position he understood in relation to his personal geography. People who took an opposing view were insane, or dangerous, or possibly even not really people. [...]
Lord de Worde used words with a tone and a volume that made them as good as fists, but he’d never used actual violence.
He had people for that.
“We’ve always been privileged, you see. Privilege just means ‘private law.’ That’s exactly what it means. He just doesn’t believe the ordinary laws apply to him. He really believes they can’t touch him, and that if they do he can just shout until they go away. That’s the de Worde tradition, and we’re good at it. Shout at people, get your own way, ignore the rules.”
“Don’t you agree, then, that it’s time for a ruler who listens to the people?”
“Maybe. Which people do you have in mind?”
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What makes Terry Pratchett different from a host of other writers with a bone to pick and a liberal agenda? I believe the answer lies somewhere in his wicked sense of humour and in his clever disguise of the sharpness of his pen/sword as screwball comedy fare.
Parts of the novel are pure Monty Python material : ... no, that’s not it. No, sir, I know that’s not it. Because it’s a parrot, that’s why. You’ve taught it to bark and you’ve painted “DoG” on the side of it but it’s still a parrot ...”
Others are wacky re-interpretations of our daily woes with technology, like the EULA for the Disorganizer MKII, the latest in biothaumaturgic design. [a bit too long to include here in full]
For lovers of actual science, we can even take a dive into multiverse theory with Otto:
“You know it is dangerous! said Goodmountain.
“Mere superstition! said Otto. “All zat possibly happens is that a subject’s own morphic signature aligns zer resons, or thing-particles, in phase-space according to zer Temporal Relevance Theory, creating zer effect of multiple directionless vindows vhich intersect vith the illusion of zer Present and create metaphoric images according to zer dictates of quasi-historical extrapolations. You see? Nothing mysterious about it at all!”
As a last resort, we might consume some dried tropical frogs with the Bursar of the Unseen University and fly away into a better future. All we have to do is believe we can do it, work toward it, tell it true:
“Pulling together is the aim of despotism and tyranny. Free men pull in all kinds of directions.” He smiled. “It’s the only way to make progress. That, and, of course, moving with the times. Good day to you.”
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This was actually a re-read for me, to refresh my memory for the next William de Worde episode [Snuff], but I liked it even better the second time around, being able to spot so many uncanny resemblance to recent political moments.