Somnopolis

I’m currently reading Christopher Moore’s You Suck. I snapped it up during a wild shopping spree in Sydney (Kinokuniya – best book shop ever!) as I was looking for something to make me laugh. Yes Only Revolutions by Mark Z. Danielewski (cool website!) is sure to be a thrilling mind-bending experience and I’m testing the Hilary Mantel waters with Beyond Black before investigating her Booker award-winning novel Wolf Hall.

None of those books are likely to make me choke on my milk with laughter though, are they? Basically I’m looking for another Terry Pratchett. A tall order really, that unique mixture of wit, intelligence and slapstick. As such, this is going to sound incredibly unfair, especially given that I’m only a few chapters into You Suck…but Christopher Moore is no Pratchett. I find myself smirking at quips rather than laughing. Some of the humour seems vulgar to me and the two would-be vampire lovers that we are introduced to are unlikable, obnoxious, not to mention unrelatable.

Remember Rincewind? He was obnoxious, cowardly, a cheat, but you couldn’t help liking him. In the very first book The Colour of Magic when we are introduced to the failed wizard, he is attempting to work an angle with the gullible ‘tourist’ Two-Flower. All the same, he’s easy to like, I suspect because we see the Discworld through his world-weary eyes. He’s a failure in life and Discworld fans continue to hold out for the day when he finally succeeds at something (although we can also enjoys his many disappointments. Seriously. I spat out my milk)

You Suck’s vampire lovers are forced to shave a cat in order to sate their blood-lust. It’s not really funny, although it raised a smile. They’re being hunted by a homeless man who calls himself the Emperor of San Francisco. I guess that’s a winning notion, but I remember Neil Gaiman had a similar character in Sandman, Emperor Norton, who was based on the actual person of the same name. So I guess this is a homage? There was a joke about Tommy sleeping with Jody when she was still asleep. That was just squicky.

See the problem is I raised the bar too high. What are the chances of finding another Pratchett. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried something like this. During my first Pratchett glut, when I was in my teens, I attempted to stave off withdrawal while awaiting the next Discworld novel by reading Tom Holt’s Flying Dutch.

It sounded promising, riffing on the myth of the Flying Dutchman in a similar manner to Douglas Adams’ take on the gods of Asgard in The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, or Pratchett’s own mixed up Discworld pantheon. Sadly I also found Holt’s writing a little too dry, clinging to the parody too tightly (the captain of the Flying Dutchman has a huge life insurance cash-in to look forward to…comedy gold!). I gave up on Holt and patiently sat outside Waterstones until the next Discworld hardback went on sale.

For me Pratchett was a refuge during my teenage years. He made me laugh, but he also referenced dozens of interesting ideas in each book. There was something liberating about reading a book that defied genre expectations. How can a fantasy novel indulge in religious critique, or quantum theory, social satire and pastiches of popular movies and still be ‘just’ a fantasy novel. That Pratchett managed to accomplish all of this and give the impression that it was somehow an afterthought for Granny Weatherwax, for example, to be confronted with a myriad of alternate worlds and lives lived during Lords and Ladies. Even if you’d never read a book on physics you could come away from a Pratchett novel with an increased awareness of it and any number of subjects, having been given a taste while reading a Discworld book. When I was twelve I was particularly obnoxious to a first year maths teacher of mine. I used to enjoy the look of confusion on his face when I recited the Pratchett phrase ‘topological M-space equations’.

I mentioned Douglas Adams above and he’s something of an elephant in the room when it comes to Pratchett. For a brief time they were peers and then Adams died. His Hitchhiker’s Guide is one of the funniest book series out there. It’s also very clever. Poor Eoin Colfer was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t as far as writing a successful ’sequel’ to Hitchhiker’s was concerned. As much as I love his Artemis Fowl books (not Pratchett-grade funny, but certainly top of the Irish writers charts…hell the closest contender I can think of is Silas Rat by Dermot O’Donovan!*) he is not a writer of the same calibre as Adams.

Who in turn was not as good a writer as Pratchett. Hear me out….Hitchhiker’s Guide and the Dirk Gently novels (not to mention his Doctor Who episodes) evidence a blistering intelligence, filled with wild, imaginative ideas and a sardonic sense of humour. Self-discipline was always a problem for Adams though, given over to long digressions and ever widening periods of time between projects. The makers of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy film were left with an embarrassment of riches to work with when adapting the first book, but it’s telling that the end product was such a mess. I’m not arguing that Hammer and Tongs the directing team would not have been able to make a fantastic Hithhiker’s film even if they pulled up their socks a bit, just that Adams’ endless revisions and unrestrained plots probably didn’t help. Pratchett is no less inspiring in his ability to mix and match story elements that should not work, but not only does he do that, he shows the reader how. He is never too obscure and while immensely clever, not given to talking down to his readership. He is a craftsman, a true writer’s writer and that to me gives him the edge over the charming dilettante Douglas Adams.

Is Pratchett partially responsible for the current literary trend of mash-ups and Austen revamps? Remember ‘We’re on a mission from Glod’ in Soul Music. Or Nanny Ogg’s cat pouncing on a bewildered vampire Count disguised as a bat in Witches Abroad? Well he’s not alone at any rate, for before Seth Grahame-Smith’s Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, there was Jasper Fforde’s The Eyre Affair. I’m calling it now, if there is any writer out there with the potential to live up to Pratchett’s standard, I’m putting my money on Fforde. His books read like Raymond Chandler writing a Cliffs Notes series on the British classics, with fantastical science fiction colliding with the works of the Bronte sisters. He also passes the ‘make Emmet laugh’ test.

Maybe you’ve read the above and you’re wondering why I am looking for a substitute for Pratchett. Well his announcement that he is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease affected me very strongly. It’s a horrible fate for such a brilliant man to begin to lose control over his mental faculties. In typical fashion he has promised to eat the ‘arse of a badger’, if there’s a chance of a cure, but in the meantime he has become a figure-head for the right to die movement, calling on the British government to establish a tribunal to allow for a conclusive debate on the issues relating to patients suffering from terminal disease.

And so I have vowed that rather than let Alzheimer’s take me, I would take it. I would live my life as ever to the full and die, before the disease mounted its last attack, in my own home, in a chair on the lawn, with a brandy in my hand to wash down whatever modern version of the Brompton Cocktail some helpful medic could supply. And with Thomas Tallis on my iPod, I would shake hands with Death.

This seems to me quite a reasonable and sensible decision for someone with a serious, incurable and debilitating disease to elect for a medically assisted death by appointment.

[...]

That’s why I and others have suggested some kind of strictly non-aggressive tribunal that would establish the facts of the case well before the assisted death takes place. The members of the tribunal would be acting for the good of society, as well as that of applicants, to ensure they are of sound and informed mind, firm in their purpose, suffering from a life-threatening and incurable disease and not under the influence of a third party. I would suggest there should be a lawyer, one with expertise in dynastic family affairs who has become good at recognising whether there is outside pressure. And a medical practitioner experienced in dealing with the complexities of serious long-term illnesses.

I would also suggest that all those on the tribunal are over 45, by which time they may have acquired the gift of wisdom, because wisdom and compassion should in this tribunal stand side-by-side with the law. The tribunal would also have to be a check on those seeking death for reasons that reasonable people may consider trivial or transient distress. If we are to live in a world where a socially acceptable “early death” can be allowed, it must be allowed as a result of careful consideration.

I support Pratchett’s cause. I hope never to be faced with the same dilemma, but look far enough into the future and we all see something that we don’t like. When my life was hard, when I was going through some bad patches, I could always count on Terry to cheer me up. He was like the friend who always knew the right thing to say. My friend is dying and I wish I could return the favour. I can’t though. I’ve already read all his books (sometimes several times), so all that’s left is for me to talk about how much his writing has meant to me. And that I’ll never find his like again.

Cheers Terry.

*In the interest of full disclosure, Dermot O’Donovan was a former teaching colleague of my father’s, which is how I first encountered his entertaining children’s book series

The success of J. K. Rowling Harry Potter series was a starting pistol for children’s books, with literary agents searching the land for the next bestseller phenomenon. Thankfully many interesting writers have managed to ride this wave of enthusiasm. However, children’s literature has appealed to talented writers for years, with the advantage of writing for an audience whose imaginations are less troubled by having to suspend disbelief. Terry Pratchett gave a much remarked upon interview disputing that Pottermania had ushered in children’s literature. Stories told for an audience of children are nothing new. From Aesops Fables to the Brothers Grimm, Enid Blyton to Maurice Sendak – kids remain eager listeners when storytime comes round.

Author Sarah Webb has asked for recommendations of the best ten children’s books from the last ten years. I find I still enjoy reading books that the younger Me would have liked. The pleasure remains the same. In fact the older I am the more I appreciate the difficulty of writing a memorable book for children.

In no particular order:

Philip Pullman  – His Dark Materials

Michael Chabon  – Summerland

Terry Pratchett  – Nation

Lemony Snicket  – A Series of Unfortunate Events

Brian K. Vaughan  – Runaways

Philip Reeves  – Mortal Engines

Eoin Colfer  – Artemis Fowl series

S. E. Connolly  – Damsel

Jeff Smith  – Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil

Philip Pullman understands the importance of crafting a story that will live in the minds of its readers. Take his early attempts at science fiction for adults, the now out of print Galatea, and compare it to the excellent His Dark Materials trilogy. Pullman wants to use his writing to impart his view of the world and challenge received ideas of social order and the nature of religious authority. Whereas the magic realism of his adult fiction falters, the adventures of Lyra and Will, pursued by agents of the Church across two worlds, manages to illustrate concisely how adulthood can be compromised by good intentions and failure of imagination. Children in Pullman’s universe are the ultimate rebels, as they have the freedom to think differently. He is the modern standard bearer for G. K. Chesterton’s much quoted phrase - Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is possibly the best book yet written about the comic book industry, a  fictional version of events that gives a greater sense for the history of what those men stooped over flattened squares in the years following WWII endured while dreaming up new heroes for their century. Summerland is equally epic in scope, Michael Chabon’s attempt to write an American fantasy novel to rival C. S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia. Blending imagery from Norse myth with Native American mysticism, the novel is a love song to a childhood spent on the ballpark in the summer heat. Chabon is an ambitious author and Summerland a worthy experiment with the genre.

Terry Pratchett’s Nation is more of a thought experiment for children. Try to imagine how our world would be today if the role of the Church in colonial expansion was not as strong. A Robinson Crusoe without adult characters, two children from different cultures are forced to work together to survive. Like Pullman, the question is asked of the kids reading – can you imagine a better world? Try and make it so.

Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events achieves the rare feat of being both tragically sad and also whimsically comical. The entire series represents what may be the best modern fable for children published in years. Its collection of grotesques rival Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast and the Beaudelaire children would send the Famous Five running home crying to their mothers with bloody noses. Assuming Sunny Beaudelaire didn’t bite them off. Once again these books carry the important moral that in the adult world, there is no one to rely on but oneself, but there can be relief courtesy of love and friendship along the way, while it lasts.

Runaways by Brian K. Vaughan may be an unusual inclusion. For one it’s an American comic book. Also the original creative team of writer Vaughan and artist Adrian Alphona have since moved on.  Nevertheless for its original run of 24 issues, Runaways (following the adventures of a group of children who discover their parents are supervillains and, well, go on the run) achieved the seemingly impossible in American comics. It became a classic, original comic book series. Recommended for readers young and old.

Philip Reeves won the Guardian book award for the first entry in his Mortal Engines series of books for children and it is easy to see why.  A dystopian tale with the marvelous hook that in the future cities are mobile and only the larger, ‘hungrier’, metropolises survive. The writing is dark and imaginative and the main characters are forced to grow up too soon.

Eoin Colfer has taken a lot of stick recently for writing a sequel to Douglas Adams’ Hitch-Hiker’s Guide. I feel the Wexford native was on a hiding to nowhere from the day the news broke. He was forced to compete with a dead man who still can claim a fanatical fan base and who know when they are being exploited. Better to stick to his own literary universe, the artful world of Artemis Fowl, scourge of the Fairy Folk who are surprisingly technologically advanced. A Celtic Tiger-cub who would give Irish bankers a run for their money, he wheels and deals his way through two worlds, bamboozling humans and Fairies with his intelligence and conniving. Fantastic fun.

Susan Connolly’s Damsel is the fairy tale every child should have already heard. The story of a young girl whose hero father goes missing on a quest, she ventures forth to rescue him aided only by his guidebook to heroism. Witty, imaginative and deserving of a much wider audience.

Jeff Smith’s Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil is a two-fold treat. An introduction to the greatest superhero of all for younger readers who missed him first, second and third times round; and a homage to the wonderful work of its creator C. C. Beck. When Billy Batson speaks the magic word Shazam aloud he is transformed into the hero Captain Marvel. Smith’s art references the style of Beck, while also containing some modern day satirical digs, including the villain’s resemblance to a certain member of the Bush Administration.

I find I don’t have a tenth recommendation, so instead I will mention books I am looking forward to reading, such as Margo Lanagan’s Tender Morsels, as well as Dave McKean’s illustrated collaboration with Richard Dawkins on evolutionary science for kids. Now I just need to write a story of my own.