Terrible news, folks. Sir. Terry Pratchett, famed fantasy author of the Discworld books, is dead.
My Eulogy to Sir. Terry.
Sir, Terry Pratchett is nor more. He has ceased to be. He has gone and…you get the idea.
I first heard about Sir. Terry and his Discworld novels in a Science Fiction Book Club catalog back in 2005. It was here that I bought Nanny’s Ogg’s Cookbook. I read it, loved it and wanted more. So I did some research and read the Discworld books in published order. I then read the Johnny Maxwell Trilogy and the Bromeliad Trilogy. I even read his first book The Carpet People, Nation and even the Long Earth.
I have also met with the man three times on his book tours when he did American book tours. Usually novelists come of as, well, assholes when you meet them. Sir. Terry on the other hand came off as that grandpa that would spoil you rotten and tell a million jokes that will leave you in stitches.
You know, I was expecting him to die. When I first heard about his Alzheimer’s it him me hard. Alzheimer’s is one of the worst diseases any writer can get. The more I heard about his condition, the worst it seemed to get. I even saw that one BBC special about assisted suicide hosted by Sir. Terry where he even said he’s consider it if it got worse. Again, this hit me hard. I shouldn’t be surprised since Neil Gaiman wrote and article in The Guardian that said Sr. Terry was “angry.” If he was angry, he did a great job of hiding it from his fans.
Speaking of how he treated his fans, he came off as someone who respected and even loved his fans. He even joked about his fans in one of his signings saying that they should buy his books instead of teeth that were used to make the Tooth Fairy palace in Hogfather. An angry British man is not how us fans want to remember him. We want to remember remember him as someone who gave the finger to the fantasy genre and create something that went above and beyond anything. We want to remember him as that guy who’ll brighten up our day by having an angry Smurf with a Scottish accent yell “CRIVENS!”
Fellow Pratchett fans, fellow fantasy fans, fellow fantasy writers and fantasy artists. Let us all come together today and remember one of the greatest fantasy writers of our generation. Let us keep this man’s work, his life and everything he has done in our hearts, minds and writing. Let us remember that, yes, the man may be dead, but the space turtle, The Great A’tuin, still flies and will always fly across the universe.
RIP, Sir Terry. You will be missed by all. I raise my nice hat and a cup of beer to you, good chap.
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