Dedicated to the memory of Sir Terry Pratchett, who passed away soon after I started reading the book.
I have made, over the past twenty years, many friends among the inhabitants of the wacky disc-shaped world sailing through space on the backs of four elephants, carried in their turn by a giant turtle. Starting with Rincewind, then with Sam Vimes and his Ankh-Morpork guards, Lord Vetinari, the wizards of the Unseen University, the banana loving Librarian, the sentient multi-legged Luggage, Moist von Lipwig ... I could go on and on, but what I wanted to say that, out of all of them, I believe Tiffany Aching is the one that I love and admire the most.
Technically, the Tiffany books are Y.A., and have little connection with the rest of the series – mainly the presence of Granny Weatherwax as the chief witch on Discworld, not that witches have ranks or care much about authority. In her first outing, Tiffany Aching is too young to be a witch, but that didn’t stopped her from doing what needs to be done and stopping the Queen of the Faeries from invading her beloved Chalk . With the help of the Pictsies, Tiffany demonstrated that the most important talent a witch needs is to keep her eyes open and use her common sense, just like her beloved Granny Aching used to do.
In this second book, young Tiffany must leave the Chalk and be apprenticed to a more experienced witch who can show her how to develop and control her native talents, beyond making cheese – a sort of going to Hogwarts, but in a private tutoring form. Her destination is described as:
“Miss Level, Cottage in the Woods Near the Dead Oak Tree in Lost Man’s Lane, High Overhang, If Out Leave Letters in Old Boot by Door”
To complicate matters, Tiffany is unknowingly chased by a space entity ( ‘a hiver’) that homes in on users of magic like a guided missile , trying to lodge into their brains and subvert their will. Just when she needs their help most, she must leave the Pictsies back in the Chalk, under the supervision of their new hive queen.
The Nac Mac Feegle (also called Pictsies, The Wee Free Men, The Little Men, and “Person or Persons Unknown, Believed to be Armed”) : they are the most dangerous of the fairy races, particularly when drunk. They love drinking, fighting, and stealing, and will in fact steal anything that is not nailed down. If it is nailed down, they will steal the nails as well. [...]
The average Feegle man (Feegle women are rare – see later) is about six inches high, red haired, his skin turned blue with tattoos and the dye called woad, and, since you’re this close, he’s probably about to hit you.
These little blue scoundrels were responsible for most of the fun I’ve had with the first Aching novel, so I hoped they will not be absent for long. Indeed, I don’t think I reveal a major spoiler if I mention that Rob Anything, Slightly Sane Georgie, Daft Wullie, Awf’ly Wee Billy and their ‘pished’ mates will soon follow Tiffany into her exile, up to their usual hilarious and boisterous antics.
I wouldn’t love the Tiffany books so much if they were only about having fun. They prove in fact that Young Adult books can and should deal with the most important issues of self and destiny as the so-called ‘literary’ fiction. The lessons Tiffany learns in High Overhang will serve her for a lifetime.
Always face what you fear. Have just enough money, never too much, and some string. Even if it’s not your fault, it’s your responsibility. Witches deal with things. Never stand between two mirrors. Never cackle. Do what you must do. Never lie, but you don’t always have to be honest. Never wish. Especially don’t wish upon a star, which is astronomically stupid. Open your eyes, and then open your eyes again.
I don’t intend to go into details about Tiffany’s adventures in the company of her tutor, Miss Level, or about the rivalries with the other young witches in training. Most of them can be boiled down to the choice the young girl has to make between being true to her inner core of values and the wish to conform, to be popular and appreciated. Even the part of the chasing ‘hiver’ is used to reveal the fact that the demons we are often fighting are of our own making, uncomfortable truths about ourselves that we pretend we know nothing about, like streaks of meanness and selfishness and greed.
My favorite passage in the book is rather long, but it is an important illustration of the offbeat definition Pratchett gives for superpowers and how they are best deployed. In answer to why Granny Weatherwax sent her to a rather dumpy and unimpressive ‘research’ witch for training, Tiffany must chew on this:
Because she likes people. She cares about ‘em. Even the stupid, mean, drooling ones, the mothers with the runny babies and no sense, the feckless and the silly and the fools who treat her like some kind of servant. Now that’s what I call magic – seein’ all that, dealin’ with all that, and still goin’ on. It’s sitting up all night with some poor old man who’s leavin’ the world, taking away such pain as you can, comfortin’ their terror, seein’ them safely on their way ... and then cleanin’ ‘em up, layin’ em out, making ‘em neat for the funeral, and helpin’ the weeping widow strip the bed and wash the sheets – which is, let me tell you, no errand for the fainthearted – and stayin’ up the next night to watch over the coffin before the funeral, and then going home and sitting down for five minutes before some shouting angry man comes bangin’on your door ‘cuz his wife’s havin’ difficulty givin’ birth to their first child and the midwife’s at her wits’ end and then getting up and fetching your bag and going out again ... We all do that, in our own way, and she does it better’n me, if I was to put my hand on my heart. That is the root and heart and soul and center of witchcraft, that is. The soul and center!
It may sounds preachy here, out of context, but I believe the novel argues in a fun and moving way the case for treating people with kindness and for using your common sense in dealing with problems. The title becomes explicit later in the novel, as Tiffany has to choose what kind of pointy hat she will use now that she has been acknowledged by her brethren: a fashionable star-spangled one from the best shop in the village? Or Granny Weatherwax’s old, battered hat that she won in a prestige competition? or better yet, one that she will fashion herself from everything that is valuable and close to her heart? Until I get to read the next Tiffany Aching book, I will say goodbye to her, and sadly to her creator Sir Terry Pratchett, with one last quote that will serve well as a metaphor for why we are reading books, and with my gratitude for the journeys of wonder they have had me embark upon:
Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.
The words ran through Tiffany’s mind as she watched the sheep, and she found joy – at the new lambs, at life, at everything. Joy is to fun what the deep seea is to a puddle. It’s a feeling inside that can hardly be contained.
I’ve come back! she announced to the hills. Better than I went!