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I don't usually do one reader response right after another, but yesterday I noticed that I Shall Wear Midnight by Terry Pratchett has been nominated for a Cybil, and since I'm going to be blogging about my Cybil reading over the Thanksgiving weekend, I thought I'd get something up about this book first.

I Shall Wear Midnight is the finale to the Discworld novels about Tiffany Aching who starts out as a nine-year-old in her first book and is, I believe, around fourteen or fifteen in this one. Tiffany is a witch, for sure, but in Discworld witches do a lot more than fly around on broomsticks (though they do that) and scare people. They pretty much devote their lives to traveling around their neighborhoods as a sort of one woman Visiting Nurse Association. They tend wounds, help the sick, deliver babies, all your traditional manner. Additonally they do nontraditional things like removing pain from the suffering. They can remove physical pain, but not the psychic kind that comes from, say, grief. It's not a particularly easy life, and Tiffany is young to be shouldering all this responsibility.

She has some folks watching out for her, though--a clan of six-inch high blue beings, the Nac Mac Feegle, also known as Feegles, also known as the Wee Free Men, also known as drunks, liars, brawlers, liars, and thieves. They are most endearing.

Now, I have read the first book in the series, The Wee Free Men, and I have read the third book in the series, Wintersmith. I thought I'd read the second one, but I can't find any record of it. My point being, I Shall Wear Midnight makes references to those earlier books, especially Wintersmith. I, of course, remember little about them. Even though the crisis Midnight deals with came about because of something Tiffany did in Wintersmith, not recalling it didn't really bother me. I was able to brush off what I didn't know and move on, probably in part because I've read enough Discworld books now that I know I want to be there in the world of those stories, and I'm willing to ignore anything that bothers me in order to get there.

And, of course, when there are Wee Free Men in the mix, it's easy to ignore all kinds of things.

I Shall Wear Midnight has some allegorical elements. It involves someone called the Cunning Man who appears to be the personification of evil. He is able to spread hate among people, making them turn on others. Witches, for instance. He comes, spreads his evil, is defeated for a while, and years later comes again. I think we're talking ugly mob mentality in many places, the kind of thing that has cropped up over and over again throughout history.

As a general rule, I don't care for allegory because it strikes me as being very holier than thou. However, there are Wee Free Men in this allegory. I'll put up with a lot of holier than thou for their sake.

This book includes a fascinating Author's Note in which Pratchett writes about a story from his childhood that inspired one element of this book. It's an interesting piece about how long something can sit in writers' minds

Now, I suppose I should take this opportunity to meet some characters who would be able to solve one of life's eternal mysteries - like where all the odd socks go, or why cars/computers/washing machines never make that funny noise when someone useful is listening.

But I'm not going to do that, except possibly in the case of my last choice. No, in a spirit of human kindness, I'm first going to meet three characters who need a bit of friendly advice. Then I'm going to have fun. So here they are, in all their glory.

Romeo Romeo is so impulsive. He does the first thing that comes into his head, every time - and just look at the results! What you must do, Romeo, I shall say kindly, is just to take a little time to think. Verify the facts. Put yourself in the other person's place. Talk to people. Just make sure people are really dead before you go making histrionic speeches and taking poison that you really shouldn't have had in the first place.

Then I'm sure you'll find that life will go much more smoothly. There'll certainly be a lot less drama.

Tess of the D'Urbervilles Oh, Tess, Tess. You have so much going for you. You're very beautiful, er... you really are very, very beautiful... well, that's enough to be going on with. Now, the initial problem with Alec. Well, fair enough, probably not a lot you could have done about that. But Angel - really, did you have to let that sanctimonious twerp walk all over you? And, you see, if you stand up to him, then you won't be so desperate that you'll have to let Alec back in again. There must be some nice reliable shepherd or forester knocking about in the wilds of Wessex. Or maybe you could start up a small business. Whatever - just stay away from men whose names begin with 'A'.

Dorothea Brooke Actually, what I'd really like to do is talk to Tess and Dorothea (from Middlemarch) at the same time. I'm sure they'd be very good for each other. Of course, Dorothea is scarily clever, but where men are concerned, she's just as silly as Tess. I mean, marrying Casaubon - listen to me, Dorothea (may I call you Dot?), just DON'T DO IT! For goodness' sake, isn't it obvious? You have far more in common with Lydgate. Together, you can do lots of lovely good, and then he won't ruin poor old Rosamond's life either. Leave her to Will - they'll be good for each other.

Fangorn I don't want to give Fangorn relationship advice - I'm afraid there's not much I can do for him, except hope he finds his Entwife one day. No - I just want to see what he looks like. I loved the Lord of the Rings films, but I didn't quite feel convinced by the Ents, and I think they're lovely, so I'd like to see what they really look like. And if Aragorn or Legolas happens to be passing, so much the better.

Grannie Weatherwax I think Grannie Weatherwax may actually be dead, but I don't think this should be much of a problem in the Discworld. If it is, any other character will do. Lord Vetinari, perhaps? Might as well go to the top. Because I have to admit, interesting as any of the characters would be, what I'm really after is a free pass to the Discworld. So much to see, so much to do! When I come back, I'll write an article: 24 hours in Ankh-Morpokh or some such. I'm sure that would be far more interesting than yet another celeb interview.

So there we have it - and now I'm off to spend three days in the wilds of Oxfordshire with a bunch of Scattered Authors (who, obviously, won't be scattered at that point). Lovely!

The Wee Free Men Terry Prachett

So I'm approaching Discworld a bit oddly-- the first one I read was Wintersmith, which is the third book in the Tiffany Aching arc. This is the first book in that arc. Eventually, I'll even read some of the adult Discworld books! I want to read the whole series.

This is the book in which Tiffany first meets the Nac Mac Feegles, those blue pictsies, with their drinking and shouting. I love the Nac Mac Feegles. It's also where she first meets a witch and the witches discover her.

Another world is colliding with this one. Tiffany first sees it when Jenny Green-Teeth first comes up from the river and Tiffany bashes her with a frying pan. Then, the Queen of Fairies kidnaps Tiffany's little brother. With a talking toad and the Nac Mac Feegles, Tiffany ventures into the darkness and nightmare of Faerie in order to save her brother, and the world.

HILARIOUS! I feel like I'm the last person in the universe to discover the genius that is Pratchett. He captures such profound truths of the human experience and makes it hilarious and moving all at once. I'm not sure how.

While there are many things that struck me when reading this, the one that stayed with me is the fact that Tiffany is from the chalk. Witches take their strength from the earth, they're born onto hard rock, not chalk. But Tiffany is from the chalk and has the Nac Mac Feegle on her side... she's one to keep an eye on...

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I dreamed last night that I was accompanying a woman around, who needed my help, who was, indeed, in the grip of a severe emotional crisis. This wasn’t surprising, since she was composed of slices of chicken breast that needed to be reassembled. I spent a little time pondering this after I woke up, but it didn’t solve any of my current plot problems.

You might well say that it wouldn’t, but it’s odd how often solutions do come out of dreams. In many cases (like the chicken-slice woman) I’d find the solution by reflecting on the symbolism. In her case it could signify some sense of inner fragmentation, perhaps, but this doesn’t ring any bells with me. Leave her aside, however, and I can often jump from a dream about a tidal wave full of horrible fish to realising that my character’s repressed feelings about something or other must now leap out and grab her (or him) round the throat. Sometimes there’s no apparent connection at all, but thinking about the dream gives my imagination a nudge nonetheless, the dream has geared me up, maybe?

On at least one occasion, a major plot component was given me by a dream. This was years ago, when I was working on a novel for adults The Mountain of Immoderate Desires, and I took a nap in the afternoon because I wasn’t feeling very well. I woke up with a start, with my heart thumping, and a sense of terror, while a voice spoke to me: ‘You have come a long way to end outside a Chinese city wall.’ When I’d recovered from my fright, I thought: That’s it, Lily, the character in my novel has been abandoned outside the walls of a Chinese city, and she almost dies there. Of course I wasn’t taking exact dictation from the dream, but it was pretty apposite, and I was very pleased with the nudge from my subconscious.

I have other, less helpful dreams, in which I am writing a novel which, I know, is the same as one already written, and have this moment of horror when it gets through to me. Or else I’m just writing a different novel from the one I’m actually working on, and I know it’s rubbish. Then there are the strange published novels that pop up in my dreams, books I’ve written that I don’t recognise – and usually they’re not up to much, either. I have no hesitation in ascribing these dreams to the insecurity of the writer’s life, and I wonder if other writers have them?

Some dreams come, recognisably, out of a particular writer’s plot-bag. I dreamed the night before last that I was Death’s granddaughter (though not at all like Miss Susan) and subsequent to the End of the World – which was, however, only temporary, for reasons perhaps known to Terry Pratchett – I had to tidy up all the mess people had left behind them. I remember making beds – literally, I had to staple ticking onto divan covers and assemble mattresses (such is the quaint verbal literalness of the dreamer’s mind) clearing up kitchens, weeding gardens – for as long as the world stayed ended, the beds stayed tidy – and then the Last Trumpeter appeared again and played, presumably, the Reveille. And everyone got up and the world un-ended. The interesting thing about this dream was its close attention to plot and thematic consistency, whereas most dreams jump from one plot to another like a grasshopper making its way across the field. I also woke at the trumpet, and heard my alarm going off.

And not so long ago, I dreamed I was watching the hobbits arrive at the Bridge in Rivendell. They came there, not on ponies, but in an old VW dormobile, the kind that was painted all over with flowers and CND symbols. They had to leave it in the car park (National Trust, of course) and run up the marked trail to the river, and when the Black Riders arrived in pursuit they came in a stretch limo and got out, all dressed in dark suits and dark glasses like Mafiosi. This surely indicates a distinct cultural connection between The Lord of the Rings and The Godfather.

Quite a while ago, there was a quote on an ABBA blog fr

I was on the 2009 Printz Committee; the Printz Reception was this past July.

In case you weren't there here are some links to the speeches at Booklist:

Printz Award:

Melina Marchetta (video), Jellicoe Road

Printz Honor Books:

M. T. Anderson (video), The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Volume II: The Kingdom on the Waves

Margo Lanagan (video), Tender Morsels

E. Lockhart (video), The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks

Terry Pratchett (video), Nation


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Hi, folks, glad to see you hanging in there. Only a few more days left. Whoa, what a journey! Are you jazzed? Come on, folks, let's hear those stories. I will do the holy snappin'!

No clue what a Golden Coffee Cup is? Click here.

Today we get a dignified five from Sir Terry Pratchett.



Terry's story is inspiring, but not just his writing story. Yes, he's a great storyteller. He is. He's sold over 45 million books that have been translated into over 30 languages. He's generally written two books a year since 1983. He's a gifted satirist (gotta love that) and a fantasy author (swoon). He sold his first story at age 13. If that doesn't inspire you, I'm not sure anything will.

But the real reason I dropped Terry in here is because he suffers from early-onset Alzheimer's disease. My mom died from this, so I feel a strong connection. One thing my mom always told me is that no prayer is ever wasted. I prayed every day of my mom's illness that a cure would come. It did not come fast enough for my mom. Terry donated $1,000,000 to Alzheimer's research. I love this speech he made. He's brought great awareness to many about Alzheimer's by being very open about living with this diease. I really admire him for this more than all the books he's written.

So, folks, create your master works, but be aware there may be a bigger plan in the cards for you. I hope you come back tomorrow for more of the hot java!

Remember: If you reach your goal from Nov 23 to Nov 30, and post on blog, you will be receive your Golden Coffee Cup picture. There is no verification process, I believe you. Send in your email address to [email protected] and your Golden Coffee Cup picture will be emailed to you. Display it proudly as wallpaper, post it on your blog, print it out and tack it on your bulletin board for year-long motivation. Didn't reach your goal? Write a great post and you might win the real coffee too!

It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living. Terry Pratchett

Depending on how you look at it, Hackney council has just (a) done its duty in removing unsightly graffiti, or (b) committed cultural vandalism and destroyed a work of art, in sending a couple of workmen to paint over an original Banksy.

I'm going with (b), myself. Mind you, I feel I have a bit of an investment in Banksy - not financially, you understand; but in common with thousands of others, a couple of weeks ago I queued for over four hours in order to get in to Bansky vs. Bristol Museum (the little cherubs in the picture, by the way, are my kids, who joined me in the queue an hour and a half in, by which time I'd managed to get about half-way through Philip Pullman's Once Upon A Time in the North), and as far as I'm concerned, that's a serious investment of time. In total, after all, I spent more time queuing than I did actually looking at the exhibition.

So: was it art? Here, I have to shrug my shoulders and say, 'dunno'. And I don't really care, either, if I'm honest. I enjoyed it. My wife enjoyed it. My children enjoyed it. Thousands of people from all over the world enjoyed it. And I've never, in any exhibition at any museum or art gallery I've ever been to in my entire life, laughed out loud as often as I did at Banksy vs. Bristol Museum. Given all that, does it really matter whether or not I know what the correct label for it is?

By this point, some of you are probably checking to make sure you are actually on An Awfully Big Blog Adventure, and thinking, 'what's all this got to do with children's books?' Before I answer that question, let me put up another photo from my day at the Banksy exhibition:
I do like that one particularly. Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes. It's easy to dismiss a lot of kids' - and, for that matter, adult - literature as "light" because its aim is to be funny and entertaining. Michael Rosen founded the Roald Dahl Funny Prize partly because funny books just don't get picked for prizes, and he felt it was as important to celebrate them as any other kind. Well, I'm with him on that. And at this point, I was going to start talking about how humour can be hugely intelligent and instructive; and I was going to use Banksy's How Do You Like Your Eggs as an example of something that first made me laugh and then made me think, and that posed questions... and then I thought, hang on, I'm falling into the same trap. To justify comedy - funny pictures, funny books, funny whatever - in that way is to say that it has no value unless it does something other than entertain. And I don't think that's true. I like to laugh. I think it's good for me. Yes, I like clever comedy; I like the thought-provoking stuff; but I also like comedy that's just plain silly - and what's wrong with that?

One voice is notably absent from the debate about whether Banksy's work is art, and that's Banksy's. He really doesn't seem to care. In the same way, Michael Rosen's response to people who think he doesn't write proper poetry is, well, don't call it poetry, then. Call it "bits" or "stuff". And Terry Pratchett, awarded an OBE for services to literature, commented, "I suspect the services to literature consisted of refraining from trying to write any". I love that attitude. These are people who know what they're good at, and who do it, and do it well, without worrying about which labels properly attach to their work.

Dr Johnson once said,"One of the amusements of idleness is reading without the fatigue of close attention; and the world therefore swarms with writers whose wish is not to be studied, but to be read." Well, all those clever writers whose wish is to be studied definitely have their place. And so do the rest of us. If people read my books, and enjoy them, that's good enough for me.