One of the first books I remember reading was Truckers. It was the first experience I had of getting wrapped up in a story, the fear and joy and anticipation and ecstasy of the world create in my mind. It was one of the first times my imagination was set free to run loose and animate the written word and was the beginning of an life-long relationship with Terry Pratchett.
It’s hard to overstate the love, bordering on obsession, I have for Pratchett’s novels. I began with Truckers and then every morning from the age of four to eight, on the 30 minute journey to school, my brother and I would listen to Tony Robinson narrating The Bromeliad Trilogy, The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic. Pretty much every night since then, to this day, I read a Pratchett novel as I’m going to sleep.
There’s humanity and sorrow and joy in his writing. They forced me to think about the way that I want to live and the person I want to be. And have had a massive impact on the way I relate to people and the lense through which I view the world. It’s hard to quantify or even conceptualise how much of an effect Pratchett has had on me. His work have been an almost constant since that first experience Truckers and it was with much sadness that I learned of his passing this week. Read more