The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld

by Pratchett, Terry

• ISBN13: 9780061370502
• ISBN10: 0061370509
• Edition: 1st
• Format: Hardcover
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

For more than two decades, Terry Pratchett has been regaling readers with tales of Discworld-a flat world balanced on the backs of four elephants, which are standing on the back of a giant turtle, flying through space. It is a world populated by ineffectual wizards and sharp-as-tacks witches, by tired policemen and devious dictators, by reformed thieves and vampires who have sworn to drink no blood. It is a world that is vastly different from our own . . . except when it isn't. Now, in The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld, various nuggets of Pratchett's witty commentary and sagacious observations have been compiled by Pratchett expert Stephen Briggs, a man who, they say, knows even more about Discworld than Terry Pratchett. Within these pages, you'll find musings on: Interior decorating: "It's a fact known throughout the universes that no matter how carefully the colors are chosen, institutional decor ends up as either vomit green, unmentionable brown, nicotine yellow, or surgical appliance pink. By some little-understood process of sympathetic resonance, corridors painted in those colors always smell slightly of boiled cabbage-even if no cabbage is ever cooked in the vicinity." (Equal Rites) Travel: "Any seasoned traveler soon learns to avoid anything wished on them as a 'regional speciality,' because all the term means is that the dish is so unpleasant the people living everywhere else will bite off their own legs rather than eat it. But hosts still press it upon distant guests anyway: 'Go on, have the dog's head stuffed with macerated cabbage and pork noses-it's a regional speciality.'" (The Last Continent) Young men: "And then there was the young male walk. At least women swung only their hips. Young men swung everything, from the shoulders down. You have to try to occupy a lot of space. It makes you look bigger, like a tomcat fluffing his tail. The boys tried to walk big in self-defense against all those other big boys out there. I'm bad, I'm fierce, I'm cool, I'd like a pint of shandy and me mam wants me home by nine." (Monstrous Regiment) Class: "'Old money' meant that it had been made so long ago that the black deeds that had originally filled the coffers were now historically irrelevant. Funny, that; a brigand for a father was something you kept quiet about, but a slave-taking pirate for a great-great-great-grandfather was something to boast of over the port. Time turned the evil bastards into rogues, and rogue was a word with a twinkle in its eye and nothing to be ashamed of." (Making Money) . . . and more! Culled from all the Discworld novels, The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld confirms Pratchett's place in the pantheon of great satirists and proves why the Chicago Tribune has praised his Discworld as "entertaining and gloriously funny . . . an accomplishment nothing short of magical."

Table of Contents

Introduction: Through the Wardrobe into Discworld
The Color of Magic	p. 1
The Light Fantastic	p. 9
Equal Rites	p. 19
Mort	p. 27
Sourcery	p. 39
Wyrd Sisters	p. 49
Pyramids	p. 57
Guards! Guards!	p. 67
Eric	p. 79
Moving Pictures	p. 87
Reaper Man	p. 99
Witches Abroad	p. 111
Small Gods	p. 123
Lords and Ladies	p. 129
Men at Arms	p. 139
Soul Music	p. 149
Interesting Times	p. 159
Maskerade	p. 169
Feet of Clay	p. 181
Hogfather	p. 189
Jingo	p. 201
The Last Continent	p. 213
Carpe Jugulum	p. 221
The Fifth Elephant	p. 233
The Truth	p. 239
Thief of Time	p. 247
The Last Hero	p. 259
Night Watch	p. 269
The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents	p. 279
The Wee Free Men	p. 289
Monstrous Regiment	p. 297
A Hat Full of Sky	p. 305
Going Postal	p. 315
Thud!	p. 323
Wintersmith	p. 333
Making Money	p. 341
Table of Contents provided by Blackwell. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpts

The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld

Chapter One

The Color of Magic

On a world supported on the back of a giant turtle (sex unknown), a gleeful, explosive, wickedly eccentric expedition sets out. There's an avaricious but inept wizard [Rincewind], a naive tourist [Twoflower] whose luggage moves on hundreds of dear little legs, dragons who only exist if you believe in them, and of course The Edge of the planet . . .

How it all began:

In a distant and second-hand set of dimensions, in an astral plane that was never meant to fly, the curling star-mists waver and part . . .

There was . . . the theory that A'Tuin had come from nowhere and would continue at a uniform crawl, or steady gait, into nowhere, for all time. This theory was popular among academics.

An alternative, favored by those of a religious persuasion, was that A'Tuin was crawling from the Birthplace to the Time of Mating, as were all the stars in the sky which were, obviously, also carried by giant turtles. When they arrived they would briefly and passionately mate, for the first and only time, and from that fiery union new turtles would be born to carry a new pattern of worlds. This was known as the Big Bang hypothesis.

The twin city of Ankh-Morpork, foremost of all the cities bounding the Circle Sea, was as a matter of course the home of a large number of gangs, thieves' guilds, syndicates, and similar organizations. This was one of the reasons for its wealth.

The stranger smiled widely and fumbled yet again in the pouch. This time his hand came out holding a large gold coin. It was in fact slightly larger than an 8,000-dollar Ankhian crown and the design on it was unfamiliar, but it spoke inside Hugh's mind in a language he understood perfectly. My current owner, it said, is in need of succour and assistance; why not give it to him, so you and me can go off somewhere and enjoy ourselves?

If complete and utter chaos was lightning, then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armor and shouting "All gods are bastards!"

Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant "idiot."

At about this time a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream, and, within the hour, had sold her jewelry, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes, and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. The fact that later on, when her house collapsed in flames, she herself died in a freak landslide in the Morpork Mountains, proves that Death, too, has a sense of humor.

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork smiled, but with his mouth only.

"I'm sure you won't dream of trying to escape from your obligations by fleeing the city . . ."

"I assure you the thought never even crossed my mind, lord."

"Indeed? Then if I were you I'd sue my face for slander."

"Ah, Gorphal," said the Patrician pleasantly. "Come in. Sit down. Can I press you to a candied starfish?"

"I am yours to command, master," said the old man calmly. "Save, perhaps, in the matter of preserved echinoderms."

There are said to be some mystic rivers—one drop of which can steal a man's life away. After its turbid passage through the twin cities the Ankh could have been one of them.

That's what's so stupid about the whole magic thing . . . You spend twenty years learning the spell that makes nude virgins appear in your bedroom, and then you're so poisoned by quicksilver fumes and half-blind from reading old grimoires that you can't remember what happens next.

The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld. Copyright © by Terry Pratchett. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld by Terry Pratchett
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