I wanted to post this earlier, but I just couldn’t.
Today, we lost one of the best humorists who ever lived. It’s difficult to express what that means. I could fill this post with quotes, from him, but if I wanted to list all of my favorites, I would end up reciting his complete works.
The first time I encountered his work was when I was handed a book by my older brother with a psychedelic-looking butterfly on it, stamped “Interesting Times.” True to its word, it was the most interesting book I had ever read. It had meaning without being insultingly juvenile, it had humor, but still had a compelling plot and characters. Over the course of the next years, I read through every one of his books I could get my hands on, following the adventures of Rincewind the wizard, walking the beat with Sam Vimes, and finally realizing why sending a letter is more personal than a text message.
He’s the only author who can make me laugh and cry within the span of the same few pages. When I list my favorite books, the top few are whatever I’ve read most recently, and then the rest of the list is reserved for him. As a voracious reader, I read through the entire fantasy/sci-fi section at my local library, but when I ran out of new books, I always returned. I’ve read these books more times than I can count, and each one was something profound, something sublime, and absolutely, unrepentantly hilarious. He can make me laugh every time, (and Granny Aching makes me cry every time) and…
I’m out of words. Go. Go read. Start anywhere, it doesn’t matter.
Farewell, Terry Pratchett. We miss you.
DON’T THINK OF IT AS DYING, said Death. JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.