Terry Pratchett - "Small Gods"
Mar. 11th, 2008 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timepiececlockSmall Gods is possibly my favorite Discworld novel so far. Usually I prefer stories about Rincewind or the witches, but this one charmed me like few have before. In many ways it's more serious than his other novels, though no less funny. It's just that the topic of religion, faith, and corruption is so incredibly relevant to history and real world events, whether today or three thousand years ago. What Pratchett has in SG is a novel about religious tolerance, freedom of thought, and ethics that could be enjoyed and analyzed by the faithful of any belief.
I thought the climactic scene in this book was more emotionally powerful than Pratchett's novels normally are. And while all of his books deal with morality and philosophy in a greater or lesser analogy, this story seemed buoyed up by something finer than his normal fair. I was moved, genuinely, and that is not something I usually expect from Discworld novels.
In some ways this book reminded me of the seventh novel Pyramids, which was also about a remote culture with an oppressive and primitive religion, but Pyramids was entertaining fluff... not the best Discworld novel, just entertaining and fun. SG, by comparison, soars. Its protagonist is one of Pratchett's most lively, and the gradual transformations he and all the other characters go through over the course of escalating events and religious change makes for a grand allegory of a story. As Brutha changes, so does Om, and so does Omnia. Pratchett always uses prominent themes in each book, but they stood out in Small Gods: sharper, brighter, and more meaningful. Gods dictate religion, but humans shape it. Gods talk through prophets, but it's the prophets that actually do the talking. There's one point where Om says that you [God] never forget your first believer because your first believer shapes what kind of God you will be. And so Brutha shapes the second coming of Om, the new version.
We know Brutha's fate from the first chapter, the first time Om speaks to him, because there's only two possible futures for people who talk to God: madness or prophecy. Watching it unfold is alternatingly amusing, sad, and joyous. You laugh at all the normal cleverness of Pratchett's dialogue and whimsical use of irony, but then you almost want to cry as the protagonist discovers the horror of dogmatic lies, of blood that's shed in the name of a God who doesn't need sacrifices and holds a low opinion of people who committ them, of telling people the truth as loud as you can but no one will listen because they're used to hearing the liars and you're just not mean enough to compete. What I love about Brutha and Om is that Brutha is too good for Om... too honest and moral and fair. These qualities are the reason he has faith and thus the reason Om is alive, and as much as Om tries to change Brutha, it's Om that ends up changing. Not only do the people have to change to be worthy of their god, but their god has to change to be worthy of them again.
I might buy this book in the future; I listened to it on audiobook but I'd love to read it. It's jumped up as my favorite Discworld book. I didn't have a favorite before, but I have one now. I've got 20 books to go, so who knows how long it will hold that spot, but it should be a while. I am surprised this is my favorite, because religion isn't something I read about much. But having a humorous, insightful, and tolerant look at the subject under the hand of a good writer, and what comes out can be particularly precious. Religion affects our world, all lives whether you participate in it directly or not, and I think that's why I liked it.
Small note: I don't think there was a single speaking female character in this book; quite a feat, though understandable since the cast is made up of monks and soldiers. I just came away from Witches Abroad, though, and that didn't have any men in it except a minor zombie, so the wheel turns and the turtle moves, I suppose.
I thought the climactic scene in this book was more emotionally powerful than Pratchett's novels normally are. And while all of his books deal with morality and philosophy in a greater or lesser analogy, this story seemed buoyed up by something finer than his normal fair. I was moved, genuinely, and that is not something I usually expect from Discworld novels.
In some ways this book reminded me of the seventh novel Pyramids, which was also about a remote culture with an oppressive and primitive religion, but Pyramids was entertaining fluff... not the best Discworld novel, just entertaining and fun. SG, by comparison, soars. Its protagonist is one of Pratchett's most lively, and the gradual transformations he and all the other characters go through over the course of escalating events and religious change makes for a grand allegory of a story. As Brutha changes, so does Om, and so does Omnia. Pratchett always uses prominent themes in each book, but they stood out in Small Gods: sharper, brighter, and more meaningful. Gods dictate religion, but humans shape it. Gods talk through prophets, but it's the prophets that actually do the talking. There's one point where Om says that you [God] never forget your first believer because your first believer shapes what kind of God you will be. And so Brutha shapes the second coming of Om, the new version.
We know Brutha's fate from the first chapter, the first time Om speaks to him, because there's only two possible futures for people who talk to God: madness or prophecy. Watching it unfold is alternatingly amusing, sad, and joyous. You laugh at all the normal cleverness of Pratchett's dialogue and whimsical use of irony, but then you almost want to cry as the protagonist discovers the horror of dogmatic lies, of blood that's shed in the name of a God who doesn't need sacrifices and holds a low opinion of people who committ them, of telling people the truth as loud as you can but no one will listen because they're used to hearing the liars and you're just not mean enough to compete. What I love about Brutha and Om is that Brutha is too good for Om... too honest and moral and fair. These qualities are the reason he has faith and thus the reason Om is alive, and as much as Om tries to change Brutha, it's Om that ends up changing. Not only do the people have to change to be worthy of their god, but their god has to change to be worthy of them again.
I might buy this book in the future; I listened to it on audiobook but I'd love to read it. It's jumped up as my favorite Discworld book. I didn't have a favorite before, but I have one now. I've got 20 books to go, so who knows how long it will hold that spot, but it should be a while. I am surprised this is my favorite, because religion isn't something I read about much. But having a humorous, insightful, and tolerant look at the subject under the hand of a good writer, and what comes out can be particularly precious. Religion affects our world, all lives whether you participate in it directly or not, and I think that's why I liked it.
Small note: I don't think there was a single speaking female character in this book; quite a feat, though understandable since the cast is made up of monks and soldiers. I just came away from Witches Abroad, though, and that didn't have any men in it except a minor zombie, so the wheel turns and the turtle moves, I suppose.
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Date: 2008-03-12 02:14 am (UTC)I think if you were taking a religion course in college, this would make a good "end of the semester" textbook, something fun to discuss and analyze after you've spent the prior months reading serious books about the same issues. Like, a dessert textbook. The basic idea of "you should be moral according to your conscience no matter what your religious text tells you" is not a new idea, and not without criticism if one feels that one's text *defines* morality, but it's well-developed in the book and worth talking about. I still think I'd give it to high schoolers though, or even enterprising eighth graders, because it's the kind of book that can be fun to read while having something meaningful to say... and there's not enough of those in high school courses. I'm a big fan of the idea that if you give a kid (or indeed anyone) the right book, they will learn to love reading, even if the only book they ever love is that one right book. I'd rather give a kid a pop fantasy book with meaningful religious and philosophical subtext that teaches them that books can be funny & well-written than give it to a college student who probably already enjoys reading anyway, and to whom this would be just philosophy-light.