It’s been three years since the death of Terry Pratchett, and since I wrote my original post about him. Since then his final novel, the Shepherd’s Crown has been published, there’s been a documentary about him, Back in Black and production is in full swing for both a Good Omens and a Wee Free Men tv series. The Shepherd’s Crown gave us a worthy farewell to the Discworld… would I wish there’d still be more? Sure! Would I wish that STP’s half finished works hadn’t been destroyed (on purpose) by being driven over by a steamroller? Definitely, I’d love to know what those final works would’ve been even if they had never been finished. Would I like to see Rhianna Pratchett pick up her father’s reins and pick up where he left off? More than anything, but I can well understand her reluctance to do so. So, as goodbyes to Discworld go, The Shepherd’s Crown was great.
As for Back in Black… still haven’t been able to bring myself to watch that. One of these days… I’m really looking forward to seeing the Good Omen’s tv series in which David Tennant will play Crowley. Neil Gaiman has taken part of the whole process very actively as can be seen on his Instagram feed, so that leaves me hoping that it’ll be something truly great. As for The Wee Free Men… well, Rhianna Pratchett is actively working with the Jim Henson company on that, so I’d say that’s promising as well.
It’s nice to see Pratchett’s legacy continued; myself I’ve been busy rereading his books (or rather listening to them, just finished the Hogfather which always has had a special place in my heart). I still look forward to sharing these wonderful works with my daughters, once they’re a bit older. Thank you Terry for all the wonderful memories and all the joyous times I still get to have while reading and rereading your books!
GNU Terry Pratchett
I’ll finish this with a poem by an unknown author:
The sun goes down upon the Ankh,
And slowly, softly fades –
Across the Drum; the Royal Bank;
The River-Gate; the Shades.
A stony circle’s closed to elves;
And here, where lines are blurred,
Between the stacks of books on shelves,
A quiet ‘Ook’ is heard.
A copper steps the city-street
On paths he’s often passed;
The final march; the final beat;
The time to rest at last.
He gives his badge a final shine,
And sadly shakes his head –
While Granny lies beneath a sign
That says: ‘I aten’t dead.’
The Luggage shifts in sleep and dreams;
It’s now. The time’s at hand.
For where it’s always night, it seems,
A timer clears of sand.
And so it is that Death arrives,
When all the time has gone…
But dreams endure, and hope survives,
And Discworld carries on.