Terry Pratchett - Tumblr Posts
У меня тут кое-что новенькое. Надеюсь, кто-то это все-таки читает😁
Not to mention the
"If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying 'End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH', the paint wouldn't even have time to dry."
~ Terry Pratchett, Time Thief
It would be funny if nuclear waste warning messages become an attraction for future historical linguists.
I mean look at this thing:
A parallel text in 7 languages, with 4 different scripts between them! And pictograms! All designed to be preserved intact!
This is so real. This needs to be a romance coauthored by both of them.
From the Neil Gaiman: Dream Dangerously :) (you can watch here in US or with US vpn :) <3)
Terry Pratchett: Neil once said, 'Your fans all look jolly. And my fans all look as if they're about to commit suicide. Wouldn't it be nice if we could get them to marry?'
happy glorious 25th of may
Reading a Terry Pratchett book is literally just: Here's a funny little joke Here's something that you can tell is a joke but don't get and will only figure out five years later Here's a surprisingly cool fantasy concept Here's a unique and well written simile Here's a lil guy Here's something that has aged depressingly well into the modern day Here's something that has aged remarkably queer into the modern day Here's a character that you can barely understand what he's saying Here is the most terrifying and deeply disturbing concept you have ever heard, casually mentioned Here is the dumbest fucking pun you've ever heard but in the best way Here is a quote so profound that it makes you view morality and the world in a different way Here is a plot twist that you can't tell if it's genius or stupid Congratulations! You've finished the book! It has fundamentally changed you as a person and you will never be the same!
pratchett will write an entire book about the grim reaper pretending to be santa claus while the grim reaper’s granddaughter goes about hunting down the dumbass who decided to kill santa, and then right when you think you’re done and the oddly pointed shenanigans are winding down he hits you with “humans need fantasy to be human. to be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape,” and knocks you into next wednesday
I’ve been meaning to write this for so long, and have overthought it so much, but seeing this I have to get it out. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes, or if it gets rambly; I’m doing this all in one shot:
My dad and I never really had much to bond over, but we did always have books when I was a kid. They were the thing he never complained about buying for me, he’d brag about what I was reading to people (and I was always reading something), and we’d talk about what books we liked. So one Friday when I was eight or nine years old, not long after my parents had separated, he asked me how my week had been and I would not shut up about the demo for ‘Discworld 2: Missing Presumed’ that my friend Chris and I had played; about how funny and cool this game was in ways I’d never encountered before, and how much I wanted to play the whole thing. Once I was done he said, casual as you like, “You know, I think that’s based on a series of books...”. At the time I made a note to read any of those books if I found them, but I was laser focused on playing the rest of that game. The next week, when I arrived at his flat, my dad went into his room and came back with a WHSmiths bag. Inside was a copy of ‘The Colour of Magic’. I started reading it right away, and you couldn’t have pried that book from my hands with a crowbar. I finished it the next day, and within a week had a copy of ‘The Light Fantastic’ to call my own that I devoured just the same. From then on I would pick up the books at every opportunity; not just buying them with my pocket money or demanding them for Christmas and birthdays, but borrowing them from Chris (whose parents had done the same thing, but starting with ‘Interesting Times’) and from a teacher at my school who kept his own private Discworld library in his classroom.
When I moved up to Grammar school, I was elated when I saw the library had a shelf of Terry’s work ready and waiting for me to read (Neil, if you’re reading this I fell in love with your work thanks to the copy of Good Omens on that very shelf). I didn’t have a happy adolescence, and I spent a lot of my lunch hours sitting on the floor of that aisle, escaping into the world he’d created. Within two years I’d read every book in the series until that point, and owned at least a third of them myself. It wasn’t too long before I owned the rest, and my family had learned that the latest book was always a safe bet to delight me at Christmas. I’ve read and reread them so many times since, so much so that I’m afraid one more trip through ‘The Colour of Magic’ will fully destroy the spine.
When it came time to start thinking about University, the people who cared about me wanted me to pick psychology and have a good steady career. I privately disagreed, but telling my parents that I wanted to write was a conversation I didn’t want to have. Once more I found refuge in Terry Pratchett. I remembered that he had started out working at my local paper, The Bucks Free Press, and that in an interview he had talked about how his work as a journalist had informed his creative work. I knew that Journalism would sound safe enough to not cause a row, and in September of two thousand and seven I began my course at LCC, a chunk of my Discworld collection sitting in my pokey new London flat. LCC wound up lasting a year before I switched to Writing for Media Arts at London South Bank University, a move of about three hundred yards, which I managed to stick with for the full three years.
A couple of years after I had graduated, having found myself unemployed and on benefits (don’t get an arts degree during a recession kids), I was in Elephant and Castle shopping centre to find a pair of shoes for a job interview. I had thirty something pounds to spare; these would not be good shoes. My route through the building took me past a WHSmith, in its window was an advert for ‘Raising Steam’ which had come out that day. I stood in front of that window for a good few minutes.
I needed those shoes.
But it was Terry...
But really though, I needed those shoes.
...
I walked out with a pair of abysmal shoes and a WHSmith bag under my arm. The alternative was unthinkable.
Outside of my family, no person had a bigger impact on my life or on who I am today than Terry Pratchett. For a scared little boy, later a scared gangly teen, later still a neurotic unemployed man, his books were a constant source of comfort and joy, but so much more than that as well. For anyone who hasn’t read his books, Terry was able to weave themes of morality, ethics, and the struggle to do the right thing into his works so deftly and naturally that you don’t even notice you’re learning how to be a better person. In a series of comedic fantasy novels he presented characters who had to fight hard against their darker impulses, who frequently failed and had to learn to recover in very realistic and nuanced way. He taught me to always accept those who were different, to learn from my mistakes, the importance of empathy and critical thinking, and a thousand more lessons besides that shaped me into who I am today, and that I use to help shape me into the man I want to be tomorrow.
The day he died, i couldn’t process it. It was almost as if someone had told me the moon wouldn’t be in the sky that night, his presence in the world was such an inherent fixture to me. It didn’t seem right, it did’t seem fair. I cried for hours, and I’m crying now as I write this.
I miss him, and I always will.
61 days into filming. What we are doing tonight has a slightly melancholic tinge for me. It’s a scene Terry Pratchett had always talked about with me when he was alive: We were going to be extras in a scene in a sushi restaurant and eat lots of sushi. Except Terry isn’t here, and without him I don’t have the heart. Meanwhile, Michael Sheen is wonderful and Jon Hamm is a delight. Ah, but I miss Terry.
Okay but you guys heard that saying that a good guy would give you up to save the world, while a bad guy would give up on the world for you? Yeah? Well, I just watched Good Omens Season 2.
The entire original discworld audio book catalogue
I've realised my shifts are nearly long enough to start and finish a whole audiobook (depending on the length), so I've been working my way through the Discworld city watch series this past week. Makes all that overtime a little sweeter.
Day 7
I just love this book and Neil Gaiman is such an amazing author.
Shoot the dictator and prevent the war? But the dictator is merely the tip of the whole festering boil of social pus from which dictators emerge; shoot one, and there’ll be another one along in a minute. Shoot him too? Why not shoot everyone and invade Poland? In fifty years’, thirty years’, ten years’ time the world will be very nearly back on its old course. History always has a great weight of inertia.
― Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies
Sam Riegels characters could be discworld characters
okay maybe not exactly but they have something very similar to pratchett characters and i dont only mean the names
they all start as a joke, or rather - their life/enviroment/sth makes them a joke, but they still are real people, its easy to forget about that, but they know, or rather - author knows that and hes gonna remind you about it in the best (most emotional) way possible.
Nott? haha little goblin girl, drunk all the time, not taken seriously and you are laughing whole first episodes, but the more you watch the more *real* she feels and suddenly her being drunk is not so funny.
Scanlan is even better example of that
and its the same with vimes, all joke named characters cheri littlebottom and moist included, otto (funny vampire totally not making a joke out of himself because its better to be funny that scary), everyone, even fucking nobby nobbys
Moving Pictures asks the very important question of, what if the spirit of hollywood was actually an eldritch being from beyond the walls of the world determined to break through by corrupting people into the worship of themselves, and our only hope is a talking dog who very much doesn't want to be there?