piwnymisiek:

thebibliosphere:

shenno-r:

I’ve started rereading Guards! Guards!, and you know that funny feeling, when you watch Star Wars Episode I or reread first Harry Potter, and it’s kind of painful to see all this innocence and almost happiness when you know what crap will happen? Well, it’s like this, but in opposite direction: it’s weird to read about Vimes in that state and I constantly want to give him a blanket and tell, that everything’ll be alright, but I read that part, when he speaks not even with Vetinari himself, but with his secretary, and feels uneasy and kinda afraid of him, and then I think about that peculiar understanding Vetinari and Vimes will reach and their almost-equality, and it makes me happy in advance.

Sorry to just randomly add on to this with a tangent but your post got me thinking and then @the-tao-of-fandom‘s tags just hijacked my brain, but I like this post, and I like what it conveys.

That Discworld is the antithesis of dark and gritty fantasy, while fully embracing dark and gritty content.

When people talk about gritty realism, they never think of this. They think of a character being brought low and struggling and exploring pain because pain is real right? They think of never ending suffering and how strong a character must be to withstand it. And while I understand why this trope exists, I hate to say it (I don’t actually, I revel in screaming it from the rooftops), it’s not realism. It’s not even gritty. It’s just depressing and wholly unhealthy.

They never think of a mediocre, stifled and bitter character who is already suffering in very ignoble ways. There’s nothing honorable about Sam Vimes at the start of Guards! Guards!, there’s a vague sense of he does some good things but knows he should do better, his dear old mum didn’t raise him to be a drunk in the gutter and yet…

They never think that grit and realism can come out of becoming better. That the true strength isn’t just tolerating the pain, but learning to live through it and then without it, which is something else Sam Vimes struggles with, with all the hallmarks of a person having become well and finding a place of mental stability, but knows all too well what lurks in the deep. He stops being afraid of success, and instead starts to fear what happens if he stops. What will happen to his family if he stops. So he stays well. He does the steps, one day at a time. He will do this not to save the world, not to prove a point, but because there’s people who love him. It’s a very human reaction. It’s a very human need. 

And that’s where the Pratchett books thrive for me. You start as low as you can go, and work your way up. It’s the stories of real life people, set in this fantastical world, and we get to watch reality unfold around them through very human experiences.  It is, quite literally in Vimes’ case, putting one foot in front of the other until you are whole again. And even when you still might not feel it, there will be others there to fall back on. Even if it’s Nobby Nobbs. (Especially if it’s Nobby Nobbs, who I like to believe always makes sure urchins have their own spoon, and that’s why everyone in the Watch House has to stir sugar into their tea with a knife.)

You are not alone in this world. Things will get better. And you should try to make things better too because we have a responsibility to each other that goes beyond not being a dick.

That’s realism. That’s true grit. And I love it.

There’s nothing darker and grittier, and yet more uplifting, than the image of a berserk, murderous man clinging to life and sanity by reciting his child’s favorite storybook, because some things must be done. And other things must be done properly.

jackironsides:

artemis-the-changeling:

the-tao-of-fandom:

Concept: 

Sam Vimes walks into a hardware store for the first time.

Five hours later, Angua has to tell him Pseudopolis Yard is on fire to get him to leave.

#sam vimes#Discworld#i’m not saying sam is the kind of dad to build a deck#but have you SEEN how much fun he has making traps around his house#(or in night watch good gods)#what if he discovered DUCT TAPE#or POWER DRILLS#don’t tell me sam vimes wouldn’t dismantle a barbecue grill so he could make railings that heated up if you tried to climb them#this is not even CONSIDERING the wide variety of axes chainsaws and bear traps#give him a chance to make a rube goldman machine of Doom and you won’t see him for a whole day#a bit of happy headcanon before the 25th#(bc i’m re-reading night watch and you better believe some Sad is coming out of that)

tienriu:
#sam vimes visits the last continent #discovers their version of Bunnings #its the best vacation he’s ever had #also he foils a murderer and stops a food smuggling ring #but also finds those tiny screws he’s been looking for

hedgehog-o-brien:

I’ve been on a  Discworld re-read for about a year now, and it just struck me how Pterry gets progressively angrier and less subtle about it throughout the series.

Like, we start out nice and easy with Rincewind who’s on some wacky adventures and ha ha ha oh golly that Twoflower sure is silly and the Luggage is epic, where can I get one. Meanwhile Rincewind just wants to live out his boring days as a boring Librarian but is dragged along against his will by an annoying little tourist guy and honestly? Fuck this.

We get the first view of Sam Vimes, and he’s just a drunken beaten down sod who wants to spend his last days as a copper in some dive but oh fuck now he has to fight a dragon and honestly? Fuck this. 

The first time we see Granny Weatherwax, she’s just a cranky old woman who has never set foot outside her village but oh fuck now she has to guide this weird girl who should be a witch but is apparently a wizard all the way down to Ankh Morpork and honestly? Fuck this.

Like, these books deal with grumpy, cranky people.  But mostly, the early books are a lot of fun. Sure, they have messages about good and evil and the weirdness of the world, and they’re good messages too, but mostly they are just wacky romps through a world that’s just different enough that we can have a good laugh about it without taking things too much to heart.

But then you get to Small Gods, in which organized religion is eviscerated so thorouhgly that if it was human, even the Quisition would say it’s gone a bit too far while at the same time not condemning people having faith which is kind of an important distinction.

You get to Men at Arms and I encourage everybody with an opinion on the Second Amendment to read that one. 

You get to Jingo, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal (featuring an evil CEO who is squeezing his own company dry to get to every last penny, not caring one lick about his product or his workers or his customers or anything else and who, coincidentally, works out of Tump Tower. I’m not making this up). 

And just when you think, whew, this is getting a bit much but hey, look, he wrote YA as well! And it’s about this cute little girl who wants to be a witch and has help from a lot of rowdy blue little men, this will be fun! A bit of a break from all the anger!

Wrong. 

The Tiffany Aching books are the angriest of all. But you know what the great thing is? 

The great thing is that Pterry’s anger is the kind of fury that makes you want to get up and do something about it. It upsets you, sure. But it also says It’s up to you to change all of this. And you can change all of this, and even if you can’t. Do it anyway. Because magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten.

It’s the kind of anger that gives you purpose, and it gives you hope. And that concludes my essay about why the Discworld series is so gloriously cathartic to read when it seems like all the world is going to shit.

So go. Read them, get angry and then get up and fight. Fight for truth. Justice. Freedom. Reasonably priced love and, most importantly, a hard-boiled egg.

GNU Terry Pratchett.