Pyramidy

Talking about those author humble bundles that you never got around to reading any, one of my friends was talking about Terry Pratchett, so I dug this out of my archives. (Another comedy book also seems like a good companion piece for this month's SFFBookClub book.)

I've always been a little intimidated by the Discworld series, because it's the kind of thing that people make flowcharts to tell you how to approach it but then simultaneously rush to assure you that no no no you can just start anywhere and it's fine actually. I've read the Colour of Magick infinity years ago (seemingly ranked consistently the worst book of all) and Small Gods (which I remember enjoying). So, I gave Pyramids a go, based on said flowchart and its adjacency.

It was a strange feeling, to be creeping across the roof of your own palace, trying to avoid your own guards, engaged on a mission in direct contravention of your own decree and knowing that if you were caught you would have yourself thrown to the sacred crocodiles.

What I like the most about this book is that the protagonist Tepic (who suddenly inherits the throne after going to Ankh Morpork assassin school) is ultimately an outsider in his own country. He's trying to do his best by his people, treat people fairly, and bring in the newer traditions that he is used to, but is forever stymied by his high priest.

One detail that I appreciate is that the high priest Dios is not truly a villain, but rather the embodiment of implacable tradition, unwilling to hear anything to the contrary, and running roughshod over the wishes of everybody around him so that things can remain just so. Even when magical events go awry and a panoply of gods manifest on earth, Dios is mostly irritated and wishes they would just go away and keep their chaotic godly domain out of his orderly earthly one. If anything, this stasis of meaningless tradition feels like the thematic heart of the novel.

Overall, this is a cute little story, with all of the one-liners and joke digressions I expect from a comedy novel, but with more plot depth and thematic cohesion than I had expected.

This book is quite a strange one. It almost apologises for the power for the sake of greatness, talks a lot about the runaway effects and—most importantly—it is the first time Pratchett has played around with the "international" Discworld in earnest. I like that actually this book is very centrist, for he lack of a better word. I also liked the bit from @Didactylos review "narrative oscillates between absurd and deeply disturbing".

There are a couple of deep quotes that makes me appreciate this re-read and suggest that there's probably going to be one more re-read in my life. One about Artela, the late wife (or main concubine?) of the Pharaoh failing to remember not to swim in the river:

He missed Artela. There’d been a terrible row about taking a wife from outside the Kingdom, and some of her foreign ways had puzzled and fascinated even him. Maybe it was from her he’d got the strange dislike of pyramids; in Djelibeybi that was like disliking breathing. But he’d promised that Pteppic could go to school outside the kingdom. She’d been insistent about that. “People never learn anything in this place,” she’d said. “They only remember things.”

If only she’d remembered about not swimming in the river…

Which, to me is talking about the balance between the creative approach and appreciating the fact that standard approaches are standard for a reason.

And a couple of really punchy ones:

Dil shivered. “That’s no guideline, take it from me. What’s an engineer?”

“Oh, a builder of aqueducts,” said IIb quickly. “They’re the coming thing, you know.”

Dil stood up, a little shakily.

“I,” he said, “need a drink. Let’s find the river.”

And one which isn't too smart, but I missed it on the first read:

“I’m sure you’re capable of doing it yourself. You look like a man who does things himself, if ever I saw one,” she added sourly.