1992;
344 pages. Book 13 (out of 41) in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld
series. New Author? : No. Genre : Fantasy; Humor; Satire. Overall Rating : 10*/10.
It must be Brutha’s lucky day. Om, the patron god of his hometown Omnia has designated him, a mere novice, to be his “Chosen One”.
Unfortunately,
Om has fallen on hard times lately, and for the last three years he’s been
stuck in a most humiliating manifestation – a turtle. Still, he is a god, and one of the
miraculous things he can do as a turtle is speak to his Chosen One.
For Brutha, this is a mixed blessing.
On one hand, it’s kind of nice to be able to chat with a deity, even if
the god-given advice is rather worthless. On the other hand, being the only
one who can hear Om, Brutha looks like a crazy man when he’s speaking to the
turtle. And others notice this kind of
eccentricity
Such
as Deacon Vorbis, who speaks for Om, even though he’s never ever
spoken with Om. And Deacon
Vorbis also happens to be the head of the Inquisitors, which means he has ways of seeing
what’s inside your head.
Such as drills, and tongs, and fire, and
other extremely uncomfortable implements.
What’s To Like...
Small Gods is
kind of a one-off tale in the Discworld Universe. The only “regulars” we meet are DEATH, the librarian (who only makes a cameo
appearance), and Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, a take-off of the ubiquitous
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler. But not to
worry, the new characters are fun to meet, including a host of philosophers,
religious figures, and gods. My favorite
was St. Ungulant, an anchorite who dwells way out in the desert, although the eagle is pretty
kewl too.
The “small gods” concept is explained early (page 6), and is basically this: a god has power(s) proportional to
the number of his followers, and what those believers are. So being god over a bunch of humans is much
better than being one over a bunch of bacteria.
And when your following dwindles to, say, zero, you cease to exist. Om is down to his last believer, and so is
relegated to being a turtle.
Small Gods is Terry Pratchett at his
finest. There are footnotes, but no
chapters. The wit and silliness
abound. And yet he tackles a sensitive
subject in the form of organized religion, and handles it evenly and subtly
enough to where I don’t think anyone would take offense. Structurally, the storyline is perfect, with
everything building to a great, twisty ending.
There’s even an unusual (for
Discworld tales) epilogue, wherein we learn the rest of Brutha’s story.
Balanced against the serious themes of torture and war in the name of a
god, Pratchett gives us some interesting views on things like the art of
Philosophy, the worth of libraries, and the assets and liabilities of learning
to think for yourself. We even get the “creation
story” behind Discworld (page 25), which was quite the treat.
As
usual, there are lots of smaller details to enjoy. My favorite religion, Gnosticism, gets a
brief mention. So does eidetic memory
and the shadowy History Monks. Small
Gods is an easy and fun read, which is no small feat when addressing topics
such as the Inquisition.
Kewlest New Word. . .
Soughing (v.)
: making a moaning, whistling or rushing sound (such as the wind in the trees)
Others : Baulks
(n., plural); Anchorite (n.); Sophistry
(n.)
Excerpts...
“If you’re really
Om, stop being a tortoise.”
“I told you. I can’t.
You think I haven’t tried? Three
years! Most of that time I thought I was a tortoise.”
“Then perhaps you
were. Maybe you’re just a tortoise who thinks he’s a god.”
“Nah. Don’t try philosophy again. Start thinking like that and you end up
thinking maybe you’re just a butterfly dreaming it’s a whelk or something.” (pg. 101)
“I’m reminded of
the time when old Prince Lasgere of Tsort asked me how he could become learned,
especially since he hadn’t got any time for this reading business. I said to him, ‘There is no royal road to
learning, sire’ and he said to me, ‘Bloody well build one or I shall have your
legs chopped off. Use as many slaves as
you like. ‘ A refreshingly direct
approach, I always thought. Not a man to
mince words. People, yes. But not words.”
“Why didn’t he
chop your legs off?” said Urn.
“I built him his
road. More or less.”
“How? I thought that was just a metaphor.”
“You’re learning,
Urn.” (pg. 208)
The trouble with being a god
is that you’ve got no one to pray to. (pg.
11)
Small Gods has been on my TBR shelf for a number of years now. I’m not sure why it’s taken
me so long to get around to reading it – I knew going in it was often considered Terry
Pratchett’s best effort from his most creative era.
I
don’t have anything negative to say about the book, and I was impressed by how evenly the author, an avowed humanist, handled the whole touchy subject of religion. So go out and find the book, and treat
yourself to a fascinating tale, and remember the mantra: “The
Turtle Moves”.
10 Stars.
When you can’t find anything at all to
quibble about, what other rating can you give?
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