Some readers may be glad to hear that I am now almost entirely recovered from my woman-flu (some, alternatively, may wail, gnash teeth and rend their clothing at the news, for we all have enemies!). However, I am a generous parent who wishes to give my daughter everything at my disposal – so she’s got the lurgy now.
So today Stig stayed home from school and we spent the afternoon curled up on the sofa watching ‘Going Postal’. This is the latest Pratchett adaptation, and it is mighty good. Generally, I am not in favour of television adaptations, governed as they are by time and budget constraints. These too often result in large chunk of the book being hewn out and tossed onto the cutting-room floor, and I am that geek who notices. I can happily make the entire room miss the next ten minutes of something whilst they suffer my rant about the ‘bit they missed out’.
But Sky, bless them, have done a lovely job of the Pratchetts. Long may they continue. Give ’em ALL the books to adapt, that’s what I say.
If you haven’t discovered the Discworld books yet, you have my deepest sympathy. I personally avoided them for years, on the basis that ‘I don’t read fantasy’. Then one day on holiday in a tiny fishing village in Devon, having run out of all other reading material including the back of the cornflake packet on the breakfast table, I gave in and bought ‘Soul Music’ from the ‘Save the Church Roof’ second hand bookstall. I won’t lie and tell you I loved it immediately – it took a few chapters, and then suddenly it clicked – I clicked, and since then I’m a true Discworld fan, and have read all 38 books – twice.
But Sir Terry Pratchett is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, and it breaks my heart that a talent like his will be lost one day – or to be precise, one day far sooner than it would usually fade.
At risk of sounding awfully twee though – what a legacy.