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lightreadsBack to the Discworld, rollicking satire but also heartfelt and marvelous just for its own sake. These are two more Watch novels, detailing the exploits of the Ankh-Morpork city watch as they trip and stumble their way into solving crimes. Jingo details the attempted assassination of a foreign leader during the opening moves of war over a newly discovered island, and The Fifth Elephant takes Vimes and other members of the Watch out of the city altogether to attend the coronation of the new dwarf king in Uberwald, where things are a whole different kind of nasty.
The Fifth Elephant is a slice of the usual Pratchett fare – hilarious but heartfelt, exquisitely plotted and accomplishing more character work per square inch of pagespace than many of us manage in a few thousand words. And all while sniggering behind its hand and insisting that no really, you oughtn’t take any of this seriously, all just stuff and nonsense. But what I really want to talk about is Jingo It’s a sociopolitical parody, and a quietly vicious one, of western/Arab relations, racial prejudice, and the things we believe about war. Through Vimes’s copper’s eyes (and Vetinari’s tidy, clockwork understanding of the ways of politics) the book puts its head to the side and has a long hard squint down its nose at accepted historical authorities on war like, “war, Vimes, is just a continuation of diplomacy by other means,” and “if you want peace you must prepare for war.” And then it calls them bullshit.
War isn’t just a thing that happens to us, according to the book. That’s just a comfortable story that makes it easier to live with all that dying. Because as Vimes puts it to himself, ““History was full of the bones of good men who’d followed bad orders in the hope that they could soften the blow.” And if there’s anything we know about Sam Vimes, it’s that he’s not always the best at following orders. Particularly bad ones. And if there’s another thing we know about Vimes, it’s that he’s a copper first and foremost, and it’s his job to stop people disturbing the peace. This book is dry, a little embarrassed to find itself so deeply passionate, devastatingly eloquent in the way of the best parody which isn’t just interested in kicking holes in things, but also in showing a different way of shoring things up. That, and it’s just damn good writing:
And you know the best thing? There are like thirty more books I haven’t even read yet.
The Fifth Elephant is a slice of the usual Pratchett fare – hilarious but heartfelt, exquisitely plotted and accomplishing more character work per square inch of pagespace than many of us manage in a few thousand words. And all while sniggering behind its hand and insisting that no really, you oughtn’t take any of this seriously, all just stuff and nonsense. But what I really want to talk about is Jingo It’s a sociopolitical parody, and a quietly vicious one, of western/Arab relations, racial prejudice, and the things we believe about war. Through Vimes’s copper’s eyes (and Vetinari’s tidy, clockwork understanding of the ways of politics) the book puts its head to the side and has a long hard squint down its nose at accepted historical authorities on war like, “war, Vimes, is just a continuation of diplomacy by other means,” and “if you want peace you must prepare for war.” And then it calls them bullshit.
War isn’t just a thing that happens to us, according to the book. That’s just a comfortable story that makes it easier to live with all that dying. Because as Vimes puts it to himself, ““History was full of the bones of good men who’d followed bad orders in the hope that they could soften the blow.” And if there’s anything we know about Sam Vimes, it’s that he’s not always the best at following orders. Particularly bad ones. And if there’s another thing we know about Vimes, it’s that he’s a copper first and foremost, and it’s his job to stop people disturbing the peace. This book is dry, a little embarrassed to find itself so deeply passionate, devastatingly eloquent in the way of the best parody which isn’t just interested in kicking holes in things, but also in showing a different way of shoring things up. That, and it’s just damn good writing:
Vimes glanced down and pulled the baton out of his pocket. It glinted in the moonlight. What damn good was something like this? All it really meant was that he was able to chase the little criminals, who did the little crimes. There was nothing he could do about the crimes that were so big you couldn’t even see them. You lived in them.
And you know the best thing? There are like thirty more books I haven’t even read yet.
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Date: 2007-01-29 10:25 pm (UTC)But yes, entirely agreed. Best. Title. Ever.