The Shepherd’s Crown, Terry Pratchett

  My first Discworld novel was Carpe Jugulum which is still my favourite, so it seems very fitting for me that my last (new) Discworld novel takes me back to Lancre, the redoubtable Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Tiffany Aching.

Pratchett never finished this novel – not the half-dozen other novels which he appears to have been sketching out when he died on March 12th. It has been pieced together and different scenes stitched to one another like a literary jigsaw and it does show but it is such a fitting tribute to Pratchett!

It’s almost banal to be talking about the plot – elves invade Lancre; witches unite to combat them. The elven realm and glamour are familiar and well done; the descent into the Elf King’s Barrow was great: masculine, childish, hormonally self-obsessed. The Nac Mac Feegle provide the comic relief, as does a somewhat diabolical goat.

The heart of the novel, though, occurs maybe fifty pages in and took me by surprise. Granny Weatherwax died. The Iron Lady of Lancre, the anvil on which the moral compass of Discworld spun, died.

Is it just me, or has Death been notably absent from the Discworld novels recently? Probably understandable, considering Pratchett’s health.

The rest of the novel follows Tiffany Aching’s attempts to step into Granny Weatherwax’s shoes, maintain two witches’ steadings and combat the elven threat.

Granny Weatherwax’s death and the vignettes – the guttering of her life’s candle – of how her death was reflected across the Disc was so reminiscent of the tributes Pratchett himself received across Twitter and the blogosphere. It was incredibly poignant. It felt like a farewell from Pratchett. A graceful, unsentimental and respectful passing on. I can only hope that Pratchett experienced the same.