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@unashamedly-pratchett
i think it's funny when a character is almost exclusively referred to by their last name by other people and this carries over into their internal monologue when someone writes from their pov. not even on a first name basis with herself
sam vimes
reading a historical romance novel and reflecting on the way these stories often present woke nobility for the contemporary reader. a big thing is servants. you canāt not have servants in those times but many modern readers think ābut I would never have servants. it would be so weird to have servantsā and in order to make the protagonists of the story more relatable they are actually friends with the servants. but flip your perspective and think of it from the side of the servants. wouldnāt it be so awful if your boss was always trying to be friends with you. a really common thing youāll see is the woke baronet having tea in the kitchen with the servants bc heās not like other baronets. but what if your boss wanted to hang out and talk during your lunch break every day. not so charming when you think about it that way
one of my favorite parts of anna karenina addressed this. as i remember it, a landowner (levin?) basically had a midlife crisis and started working the fields. the farmhands were pretty confused and annoyed at this relatively weak, ineffective guy playacting as a farmhand. he was in the way, had no idea what he was doing, didn't understand their micro culture (esp. things like what they liked to talk about and what they found funny) and most of all, he was...THEIR BOSS.
this is why I get annoyed by people being like "why is the noble heroine in this 19th-century novel lonely? why does she say she's all alone? her maid is there! ugh! so dehumanizing!!!!"
she is the maid's BOSS
they are not FRIENDS
the maid probably does not DESIRE her friendship
the servants are not your confidants in this scenario. IRL, the notion of the Loyal Family Retainer was most common in sentimental literature for the employing class (which btw was like upper-working-class on up, although the lower you go, the more work the family would be doing alongside them) and sometimes weaponized by them to try and get extra emotional or physical labor out of domestic workers
did emotional intimacy develop sometimes? absolutely- and it was often encouraged for upper-class 19th-century children in the US and UK, who could spend a lot of time with their nanny and in the servants' sphere in general. was classism a factor? 100%.
but it's not dehumanizing to be like "my employee is not my BFF"
My favourite example of this is Sam Vimes, who lived into his late 30s as an on the edge of poverty watchman, and then marries the richest woman in the city coming into titles and honours and Respect, and we see him mourn the person he is not anymore
Yesterday there had been some official dinner. He couldn't recall now what it had been for. He seemed to spend his whole life at the things. Arch, giggling women and braying young men who'd been at the back of the line when the chins were handed out. And, as usual, he'd come back through the fog-bound city in a filthy temper with himself. He'd noticed a light under the kitchen door and heard conversation and laughter, and had gone in. Willikins was there, with the old man who stoked the boiler, and the head gardener, and the boy who cleaned the spoons and lit the fires. They were playing cards. There were bottles of beer on the table.
He'd pulled up a chair, and cracked a few jokes and asked to be dealt in. They'd been... welcoming. In a way. But as the game progressed Vimes had been aware of the universe crystallizing around him. It was like becoming a cogwheel in a glass clock. There was no laughter. They'd called him 'sir' and kept clearing their throats. Everything was very... careful.
Finally he'd mumbled an excuse and stumbled out. Halfway along the passage he'd thought he'd heard a comment followed by... well, maybe it was only a chuckle. But it might have been a snigger.
Nanny with Her Parasol
(a Good Omens parody repaint of The Woman with a Parasol by Claude Monet)
I just had to do this one at some point dghahdbah
Finished painting Nanny š
I don't know how to articulate this well, but I really fucking hate the way a lot of thin writers write fat characters. Like how men write women "breasting boobily" there is something so dehumanizing about how fat characters are often written. "He waddled", "he lumbered", the writer of the book I'm reading always mentions this characters "fleshy hand" when he does something with his hand. Like, we already know that he's fat. There is no need to describe everything he does as "doing it fatly".
*fishes this absolute treasure from the tags*
The carrier of carriers. A tribute to Terry Pratchett
GNU.
an interesting thing about clothing in late medieval and early modern europe is that, while lower class people generally did wear brightly colored clothing instead of muddy brown clothes, there were very distinct differences in the color of clothing people of different classes wore. clothing was done with all natural dyes, of course, but they were either dyed locally with cheap and easily accessible ingredients, or they were dyed in holland, italy, the ottoman empire, or even further afield using a jealously guarded secret combination of difficult-to-access ingredients, including (crucially) better-quality fixatives. this means that not only did expensive imported fabrics maintain a dark, rich tone much longer than a locally dyed one, which would get a washed out look after a couple of years, but there were also certain colors that a working class farmer literally couldnāt afford to wear, and even though the difference between a cheap local lincoln green and an expensive imported popingay green might seem subtle to us people then seem to have been very sensitive to those differences. thatās also why the colors puritans tended to wear seem uncharacteristically bright to our modern eyeāblack was such a rich and expensive color that it would be inappropriate to wear to anything other than a portrait sitting, but the colors orange and kendall green were deeply humble in their origins
David Hackett Fischer (14 March 1991). Albion's Seed: Four British Folkways in America. Oxford University. pp. 100ā102. ISBN 978-0-19-974369-8.
via wikipedia
Angua can smell the colour of your cloak
"what are you a cop" is bookaziraphale's entire mindset btw. "is it very angelic to hoard books and be mean to customers" what are you a cop? "should you really be married to your adversary" what are you a cop? "should your husband be parking his car there" ah you ARE a cop. explodes your ticket notebook with his mind. like in his mind if the lord herself doesn't come down to tell him off he's doing just fine. because he's doing it. and if she DOES come down (where is the flaming sword I gave to thee) well then. what is she a cop
no so true. in fact I think this was a key experience in his conviction that he is correct about everything ever. after all she did not ask him again
book Crowley: youāre an angel, you canāt do the wrong thing book Aziraphale: you are absolutely right. everything i do *is* the right thing book aziraphale really took ādo what thou wilt shall be the whole of the lawā and ran with it
[ID: The first add-on shows tags from pronouncingitwang reading "#it is soo fucking important that not only did he lie to god #he thought it was so important that he wrote it in as a correction to the bilton and scaggs bible he wanted that shit printed+distributed" and the last add-on shows tags from indieninja92 reading "#MY BOY #as i like to say 'aziraphale did nothibg wrong... but not through lack of trying' #the greatest angel ever to sincerely attempt to shoot an eleven year old in the face" /end ID]
And when he knows heāll HAVE to help the cops, heās desperate to leave so that he WONāT have to help the cops!
[ID: A snippet from the Good Omens book. It reads āThere was the sound of a siren outside, abruptly broken off as a bullet hit it. Aziraphale nudged Crowley.ā The next part is highlighted, and reads āāGet a move on,ā he said. āWe're going to be knee-deep in police at any moment and I will of course be morally obliged to assist them in their enquiries.āā /end ID]
book antics
(this is mine but i don't feel like putting it on the other account. it's my blog i can do what i want)
i love discworld partially because (and bear with me because ive only just finished soul music and im reading in order) death isn't tragic. sometimes its funny, and sometimes off screen it is tragic, but tragedy is always really the realm of the living. Death is...bidding farewell to an old friend and knowing with bittersweet, warm certainty that your paths won't cross again. it's loving and having loved in whatever way was yours. it's something that just happens. everything must pass and that's fine. we're all just along for the ride.
I feel like everyone is sleeping on "my gender is whatever is funniest for the bit" Nobby Nobbs.
POV: You're a patrician of Ankh-Morpork and you've run out of titles, ranks, and awards and you have to make them up because Sam Vimes saved AM/you/the disk/the entire universe again
When the voices in your head turn out to be a very small and angry God in the shape of a tortoise š¢
"Oblong office"
"ŠŃŠ¾Š“Š¾Š»Š³Š¾Š²Š°ŃŃŠ¹ ŠŗŠ°Š±ŠøŠ½ŠµŃ"
14. 06. 26
"The Archchancellor polished his staff as he walked along. It was a particularly good one, six feet long and quite magical. Not that he used magic very much. In his experience, anything that couldn't be disposed of with a couple of whacks from fix feet of oak was probably immune to magic as well."
-Sir Terry Pratchett, Soul Music
Itās not a Discworld joke unless you read it, donāt parse it as a joke, and then carry on with your life for ten years until someone stops you to say something like āItās a pavlovian response because the dog ate a pavlovaā and you scream Terryās name with enough indignant rage you hope it rattles the pillars of the multiverse so wherever his soul is heāll hear it.
#i donāt think this is what pterry meant by āa manās not dead while his name is still spokenā
I absolutely think it is
I read Jingo for the first time when I was 13.
Iām 33 now, and I still discover a new joke every time I reread it.
Terry was a comedic genius
#shoutout to the one in Soul Music about the leopard that got thrown out of the circus because it couldn't hear the ringmaster#it was several months after my second or third time reading the book that I clocked it was a Deaf LeopardĀ (via @morkaischosen)
god DAMMIT
When I was informed that āVetinariā is a pun on āMediciā. That pun was so painful I couldnāt even see it.
...are you FUCKING KIDDING ME.
*starts thunderously knocking on the doors of heaven*
get out here Terry I just wanna talk
Twurpās Peerage made me throw a book (gently) at a wall.
In the UK, the book of the peerage is called Burkeās Peerage. Burke sounds like berk, which means a silly/annoying person. So Terry tookĀ ātwerpā, another word for a silly or annoying person, and replaced the e with u.Ā
The Book of Silly and Annoying People, based on the real thing with a pun on the name thrown in for good measure.
OMG I FUCKING *KNEW* VETINARI WAS A JOKE ON FUCKONG SOMETHING I JUST COULDNT GRASP IT. I THOUGHT IT WAS A REFERENCE TO WIND SOMEHOW
I am not a talented punster so I was today old when I realised about Vetinari.
guys it's fucking close to water
Latinclass ca. 9th grade: the text we had to translate contained the words trans means "on the other side of" or in german it can be translated to "Ć¼ber/ hinĆ¼ber". Also silvas; silvanis means "the forest" or in german "der Wald".
Trans silvas very simply translated into german would be Ć¼ber den Wald
Trans silvas -> Transsilvanien -> Ćberwald
My latin teacher gave me a very weird look as I suddenly facepalmed myself and groaned quietly.
The Venturi and Selachii feud is what killed me when I got it.
The Venturi Effect is a scientific term referring to the acceleration of a liquid through a narrow tube (like a jet).
Selachii is a classification of sharks. (I discovered this when my stepson got really into sharks)
... fucking HELL Terry.
In Carpe Jugulum, Count Magpyr boasts of having helped write the Malleus Maleficarum, along with the Torquus Simiae Maleficarum, the Auriga Clavium Maleficarum, and in fact the entire Arca Instrumentorum.
The Malleus Maleficarum is a very real, very nasty and absolutely batshit insane book from late 15th-century Germany, basically laying out the procedure for catching, torturing, and executing witches. Its title translates to The Hammer of Witches. The other titles are Pratchett's inventions.
Malleus = "hammer" Torquus Simiae = "monkey wrench" Auriga Clavium = "bucket of nails" Arca Instrumentorum = "box of tools"
so imagine you're seventeen and enlist to fight a war to make sure your entire life is not completely fucked over by religious nuts. you can't even get a day in that you're queer-adopted by the gayest straight man who ever lived, the most foppish fucker private school ever willed into existence, and this gloriously red, gloriously fat war hero who's also a war criminal (maybe? you certainly won't ask, he has huge fucking knives). they're your fathers now. they hate each other. they're also your direct superiors in the fucking army, cause you're still seventeen in a war. this happened to my friend polly perks
