Monday 20 April 2020

Thief of Time by Pratchett

Once upon a time, there was a book blogger in a magical kingdom called Sarf Lahndan and sometimes, he'd review books. Until he stopped reading new things, or re-reads he wanted to review.

So it's time for a review of something I know backwards, forwards, sideways and through the space-time continuum. Welcome, one and, er, one to my review/mini-essay of Thief of Time.

Where to start? To me, one of the great appeals of ToT is it's in a halfway house of sorts in terms of Discworld mini-series. It's technically a Death/Susan book, but they feel more part of an ensemble cast than the do in previous books, with a lot of the limelight taken up by previously minor elements such as the History Monks and the Auditors of Reality. And the biggest thing they add here is a good dose of weirdness. I love Discworld. I really loved the books Pratchett was putting out at the turn of the Millennium. But they were very down to earth and focused on humanity. The madness and metaphysical fun we saw at the start of the Discworld was a little absent. I missed it and ToT gave me a good dose.

The concept of ToT is... fucking convoluted actually. There are two strange men of unknow parentage. One is being egged on by the Auditors (a sort of hive-mind spirit race that wishes to extinguish all life as it makes the universe messy) to create a clock that will stop time entirely. The other belongs to the History Monks, an order of not-Buddhist monks that seek to ensure history happens correctly through a mix of subterfuge, time manipulation, and kicking peoples heads off. Or not. And there is Death and Susan. There's a lot happening.

Lobsang, the more or less MC, is a novice with the History Monks, where he's considered a bloody nightmare by his teachers as "there's no educating a clever boy". My sister got that made into a t-shirt for me which should say something about the connection I feel to his experiences - in particular, being bored because he's not being challenged. There's all sorts of young MCs in Fantasy, but the number of them that have outgrown their situation and are itching for challenge is low. Too low. I like Lobsang. I like the mentor he's given by the teachers seeking to make him somebody else's problem - Lu-Tze, or the Sweeper. The Sweeper was once an unteachable boy himself and went on to become the History Monk's greatest operative... except for the part where he never became a monk, but forever stayed a sweeper. Cunning, irreverent (except when actually appropriate), compassionate, he's possibly Pratchett's most underused creation.

The book can be split into two. The first half follows Lobsang's unwilling and slightly awestruck novitiate with Lu-Tze. Parallel to that we see the other arcs. Clockmaker Jeremy is trying to make the clock that will end time; the Auditor Myria LeJean is meant to be aiding him but, betrayed by the difficulties of being actually incarnate, isn't quite doing what she's meant to; and Susan Sto-Helit has been tempted into getting involved by her Grandfather by the talk there Time has had a son. Someone like her.

And here we get into the human elements of ToT, because even with weirdness it is still a Discworld and Pratchett's insight into humanity bowed to no one. None of the characters fit in and when you don't fit in, the idea that there's somewhere you might - or even just someone you might fit with - is like the promise of water in the desert. Nowhere is that more magnified than in the relationship between Jeremy and Myria but it is Death's manipulation of Susan that makes this theme most explicit. And while those plot arcs scream it, Lobsang perhaps has the most interesting example. He misses his life before the History Monks; he had a purpose there. He had friends. He was good at what he did and had pride. Missing that is part of what he's acting out as a novice Monk. 

Yet when removed from that and apprenticed to a sweeper, he starts missing that sense of being a monk. He at least knew where he was going there; he didn't fit in but he knew how he didn't fit in. Hands up everyone who's found themselves missing a dodgy situation because of that. Lu-Tze's guidance doesn't really cover any of that. And so a sense of not so gentle rebellion bubbles away with our young sweeper. And that is one of the most common feelings of coming of age I can think of - not knowing where you're going, not knowing where you should be, wishing those placed above you would actually help (and sometimes not realising how they are doing so). If Lobsang is an atypical young hero in terms of ambition, he is a very typical young man in this sense... and yet, perhaps atypical as a hero.

The second half of the book deals with the inevitable desperate quest to save the world and stave off the apocalypse. Lobsang and Lu-Tze set out to Ankh-Morpork; Myria seeks to survive what is seen as a betrayal by the Auditors; and Susan tries to work out what the hell is going on. This is the part of the book where Myria and Susan come more into their own, but the show is still stolen by Lobsang and Lu-Tze's relationship.

What is great about them is that Lobsang has young man dreams, fierce man dreams. He wants Lu-Tze to show him how to defeat their enemies through martial arts and physical prowess. Defeat the problem like a hero does. Show no fear before obstacles on the straight forwards path. There's quite a lot that's admirable about that but it's not Lu-Tze's way. The Sweeper favours guile and misdirection and his path is guided by the sayings of Mrs Cosmopolite and of Wen, founder of the History Monks (rather than by the organisation they've become):

"He was a lad, eh? Completely blissed out on the universe. Saw the past and future as one living person, and wrote the Books of History to tell how the story should go. We can't imagine what those eyes saw. And he never raised a hand to any man in his life."

Part happy hippy, part hard-headed old lady; those are the guiding principles of Lu-Tze's universe. He's never going to encourage Lobsang's hero dreams. Yet he does little to deter them either. He provides things for Lobsang to learn from, let him make his decisions, and provides more chances for lessons. There's not a huge amount there for the rebellious Lobsang to push back against, although there's always something if you look hard enough. But the mix is witty, warm, and had just enough war to make it all worthwhile.

In this relationship - and the contrast with how Lobsang was dealt with by his former teachers - we see Pratchett's thought on how to help those unsure of their place in the world. And that is to let them find it. To be there when needed but to let them have their head. Susan's experiences as a school teacher at the beginning of the book is the cherry on top of this thought and not a particularly subtle one either. Pratchett's always been praised for his ability to make his points without preaching but sometimes he does enjoy a good preach.

Lets talk about Susan. I've always loved the concept of Susan Sto Helit. Sensible to the point of character flaw, a professional calm and dependent adult with a petulant streak as a result, independent minded, and just downright formidable, she is a great heroine. But again, she's always felt a bit underused, maybe short of the right foil. ToT finally gives her a good cast to bounce against. I love The Hogfather but Susan gets the short end of the stick there. If Susan is Miss Together, then Myria is a mess, an unholy mix of age old lifeform and week old human and adult female body. She blurts things out, makes rash choices. Yet there is a freedom there denied to Susan, a naivete and sense of wonder she slightly envies even as she guides Myria along. It is similar to the relationship with Bilious, but done a lot better.

There's also a number of cameos, as is Pratchett's wont. The sub-plot of Death calling the other horsemen of the apocalypse to arms is full of amusing set pieces that don't quite reach great. Ditto the scenes featuring the fifth horseman, Chaos. Jeremy's Igor has some wonderful lines though and Susan's visit to Nanny Ogg is one of my favourite parts of the novel; a Witch's view of the occult is always a wonderful thing. And of humanity too.

That blend is why ToT's cuisine reigns supreme. It is about kung-fu time-manipulating monks, the children of mythical incarnations of abstract concepts, the apocalypse, clocks that can stop the universe and malign spirits. It is a completely fantastical book. It is also about finding our place in the world and how our environment shapes us. It is completely human, for all few of the characters are. And very good - a book that more than survives the test of time.

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