‘When I am old, I shall wear midnight. But not today.’
[...] And I know why the hare leaps into the fire.
My fourth Tiffany Aching story, and I know by now what to expect [but nothing about the hare, yet], so I saved it for the last book to read in 2021. A sort of special treat for being a good reader and finishing my self-imposed Goodreads challenge. Terry Pratchett has never let me down, and I’ve been roaming all over the Discworld under his guidance since 1991, when I picked ‘Pyramids’ simply because I liked the crazy cover of Josh Kirby. It’s almost impossible to pick a favourite among so many great and colourful characters that populate this imaginary flat Earth, but there is something special, something bittersweet and endearing, about this plucky teenage heroine that simply does what needs to be done.
‘I wish it wasn’t you doing this, Tiff. You’re not sixteen yet and I see you running around nursing people and bandaging people and who knows what chores. You shouldn’t have to be doing all of that.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Tiffany.
‘Why?’ he asked again.
‘Because other people don’t, or won’t, or can’t, that’s why.’
‘But it’s not your business, is it?’
‘I make it my business. I’m a witch. It’s what we do. When it’s nobody else’s business, it’s my business,’ Tiffany said quickly.
In a perfect world, Tiffany would be celebrated and honoured in her rural community, but Evil finds a way to sneak in past her guardianship of the Chalk, as her witching domain is known. A blind force, a spectre from the past known as The Cunning Man, is spreading rumours of malfeasance and inflaming her neighbours and even her friends to pick up the pitchforks and ‘Burn the Witch!’ Rational thought goes out the window, as every good deed Tiffany does around the village and in the Baron’s Castle is twisted into something else and the ‘rough music’ of lynching mobs is heard over the chalk hills.
‘Poison goes where poison’s welcome’
Tiffany knows that there is a supernatural force at play in these events, and that she is the one who needs to do something about it. A touch of bitterness about the ungrateful nature of the people whom she dedicated her life work to cannot be avoided, in particular the young Roland, heir to the ailing Baron and former boyfriend material in her childhood fantasies. The Cunning Man has managed to turn almost everyone against Tiffany, with the notable exception of the Nac Mac Feegle, the Wee Free Men who are as usual at her side, cheerfully spreading havoc instead of helping their Big Wee Hag.
I will not do a full synopsis of the latest danger that Tiffany Aching must deal with in this first book where she acts like a fully qualified witch, but I do feel the need to mention that we meet a lot of old friends, both in the Chalk and during a visit Tiffany and her wee little devils make to Ankh Morpork.
‘This is AnkhMorpork, Mr. Vimes; in the summer the river catches fire and it has been known to rain fish and bedsteads, so, in the great scheme of things, when you think about it, what’s so wrong about a pub spinning on its axis? Most of the customers do the same!’
The City Watch makes a guest appearance, as do the mountain witches led by Granny Weatherwax. A unique lady wizard, supported by the city witch of AnkhMorpork lend a helping hand to Tiffany, while the tribe of Feegles are welcoming a stray named Wee Mad Arthur. The humour is as sharp as ever, but the laughter is frequently tempered by the seriousness of the struggle against prejudice and lies and ancient hatred. I liked in particular the comic relief provided by the Feegles, the old folk wisdom that comes through in several aphorisms and proverbs [ Everybody was good at something. The only wicked thing was not finding out in time. ] and the usual tongue-in-cheek footnotes about Discworld lore. The language of forget-me-lots flowers and the key to understand equestrian statues caused me to laugh out loud.
And what are my weapons? she thought. And the answer came to her instantly: pride. Oh, you hear them say it’s a sin; you hear them say it goes before a fall. And that can’t be true. The blacksmith prides himself on a good weld; the carter is proud that his horses are well turned out, gleaming like fresh chestnuts in the sunshine; the shepherd prides himself on keeping the wolf from the flock; the cook prides herself on her cakes. We pride ourselves on making a good history of our lives, a good story to be told.
The Tiffany Aching books belong technically to the Young Adult category, but they are so charming and so well constructed that I will not hesitate to recommend them to all ages. If the readers are already familiar with the Discworld and with previous episodes, they will surely appreciate the Easter Eggs and the references to the City Watch and to the Witches books. If they are not, and they happen to start the journey with this particular novel, I am confident they will soon become fans of both Tiffany and of the style of presentation.
Sir Terry has all the reasons to be proud of a good story well told.
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My job is to make things up, and the best way to make things up is to make them out of real things ...
The Chalk in the Tiffany Aching books is quite transparently inspired by the Wiltshire Downs where the author resided in his later years. In the afterword, the analogy is taken even further along to mirror people and events from his childhood but, as I am inevitably getting closer to the end of the road in this incredible journey, I cannot help noticing how the author himself is preparing us for saying goodbye.
“I Shall Wear Midnight” was published in 2010, a couple of years after Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with a degenerative brain disease. I may be reading too much into this, but I believe the artist was trying to cope with this situation through his writing, thinking about his legacy in a manner similar to the hero of that classic Kurosawa film: ‘Ikiru’.
Death was always a part of Discworld, but of all the characters in the Discworld, Tiffany Aching seems the one destined to meet it most often.
‘Have you ever seen Death?’
‘Usually you just feel him passing, sir, but I have seen him twice, in what would have been the flesh, if he had any. He’s a skeleton with a scythe, just like in the books – in fact, I think it’s because that’s what he looks like in the books. He was polite but firm, sir.’
There will be a funeral in the novel, followed shortly by a wedding, and Tiffany’s commentary on the events reflects a maturity well beyond her sixteen years of age.
It shouldn’t rain on a funeral. It made people to gloomy. She tried not to be gloomy at funerals. People lived, and died, and were remembered. It happened in the same way that winter followed summer. It was not a wrong thing. There were tears, of course, but they were for those who were left; those who had gone on did not need them.
The way I want to remember Sir Terry Pratchett is with a smile of gratitude for all the laughter that he so generously offered.