Terry Pratchett died today. The world has lost its best fantasy
satirist. I’m having trouble imagining a world without a new Terry Pratchett
novel to look forward to. Whether he was
riffing on politics, religion, universities, or death, he always gave a laugh-out-loud
depiction of human life. Despite his
lampooning of humanity, he gave me hope. Hope that we could recognize
ourselves, hope that we could laugh at ourselves, hope that we could maybe even
improve.
Facing life without a new novel featuring Death, or his granddaughter Susan, or Granny Weatherwax, or Tiffany Aching and the Wee Free Men is going to be hard. Let’s all read some Terry Pratchett tonight. The Wee Free Men, Equal Rites, Reaper Man, any of them will make Terry’s passing a little more bearable. And we’ll be the better for it.
