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Terry PratchettA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
One of the more difficult things to do in fantasy is to create a system of magic that works in a consistent and believable way. Pratchett embeds real-world rationale into The Color of Magic by showing his characters employing the scientific method to study their magical world. The scientific method is the process of observation and experimentation used to gather data and develop theories about the world. On the Disc, this means that cosmochelonians debate the Steady Gait theory versus the Big Bang: “the theory that A’Tuin had come from nowhere and would continue at a uniform crawl, or steady gait, into nowhere, for all time” versus the idea that “A’Tuin was crawling from the Birthplace to the Time of Mating” along with other giant space turtles, who would mate and create new turtles carrying new worlds (4). These theories, of course, are parodies of creation myths and scientific hypotheses of our actual universe.
Pratchett’s science of magic parallels the science of Roundworld (our earth). Magical fields replace gravity and influence the speed of light. They also act like radiation, causing mutations and strange effects on their surroundings. Instead of the law of conservation of mass, the Discworld has the “Law of Conservation of Reality; this [demands] that the effort needed to achieve a goal should be the same regardless of the means used” (82). This interesting take on magic also frees readers from wondering why characters can’t simply magic themselves out of sticky situations.
In Part 4, Pratchett satirizes both science and religion. The Discworld cosmology is based on various creation myths, specifically ones that refer to the world being carried on the back of an enormous creature, like a turtle or elephant. Pratchett especially draws on Hindu cosmology, which teaches that the world is carried by four elephants, who in turn stand atop the turtle Kachhapa (Smithsonian Ocean). Before scientific inquiry expanded, ancient people had to use their imaginations to come up with explanations for natural phenomena. For example: since everything falls unless it rests on something else, and since the world is not falling, the world must rest on something large, like elephants. Since elephants would also fall, they must be standing on something else—a turtle floating in an endless ocean. The ocean satisfies the problem of falling. This could also explain other natural events: earthquakes, for example, could be attributed to the steps of giant elephants or the jostling of a turtle through the endless sea.
The people of the Discworld, while “ancient” to modern readers, don’t have to guess at what keeps their world from falling. Pratchett takes the myth of the world-turtle and turns it into scientific fact. The people of Krull go about the study of Great A’Tuin in a methodical way, testing hypotheses and building tools to make observations. However, as another nod to religious myths by Pratchett, the Krullians also ensure the success of their experiments by propitiating assorted gods with ritual sacrifices. On the Discworld, that’s just good sense; the gods are very real, and they don’t have much sense of humor about atheists. In the real world, science and religion are often pitted against each other and presented as polar opposites; in The Color of Magic, they coexist, and creative myths to us exist as basic fact for Discworlders.
Pratchett once said there was no science on the Discworld. However, in effect, he made religion and magic into sciences. By continually testing how magic works in his world, Pratchett forces his readers to continue thinking, never allowing them to make assumptions. Much of what readers learn about the Disc then spills over into Roundworld science, training readers in the scientific method at an intuitive level. Some readers may feel that Pratchett is poking fun at the ancient concepts of world-elephants and world-turtles; but had those ancient philosophers investigated earth like the Krullians investigate the Disc, we likely would never have had Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.
Economics is the primary theme of Part 1. Rincewind, the protagonist, doesn’t understand the science of wealth. His naïve understanding is that if everybody had a lot of money, everybody would be rich. He never grasps that wealth is meaningful only in relationship to something else. Twoflower, for example, is wealthy in Ankh-Morpork but not in the Agatean Empire. Rincewind, on the other hand, is simplistic and literal; he takes the idea of “worth its weight in gold” to a new level by turning a bag of gold into a weapon.
Economics considers how people use resources to satisfy their needs and desires. One theory of economics argues that the greatest wealth for the greatest number arises from self-interest and competition. This is the theory on which Ankh-Morpork is run. This results in economic stratification, with the wealthy and powerful living on the Ankh side of the river while Morpork is a hive of scum and villainy. On the other hand, the system does work—more or less.
The Patrician exerts very little economic regulation over Ankh-Morpork. The guilds are taxed, but they regulate themselves. Thieves and beggars, for example, are organized to never take too much from any one person, and to distribute their activities around the city to avoid impoverishing, or too severely annoying, their “clientele.” As long as those nuisances are kept to a tolerable level, the system is stable. Everyone who lives in Morpork understands the society they’re part of, and despite the rampant crime, Morpork remains balanced until Twoflower’s arrival.
Although it appears that the criminal guilds represent unopposed lawlessness, they actually illustrate the necessity of top-down control. Each individual thief driven by self-interest would rob as many people as they could as often as they could until they either ran out of victims or their victims turned on them. Thus we see that Ankh-Morpork doesn’t represent a purely free market. Enlightened self-interest calls for cooperation and agreed-upon controls. An every-man-for-himself system with no top-down controls will self-destruct.
This is seen when Broadman the innkeeper sees the profit in burning down his inn to get an insurance payout. Most readers will understand that an “inn-sewer-ants-polly-sea” is an insurance policy (40), intended as a cautionary measure against unexpected disaster. The entire concept of insurance operates on the understanding that policyholders are not meant to seek deliberate harm purely to get paid. Broadman, however, lives in a completely individualistic society and lacks an understanding of economic policies. He is operating out of self-interest and competition for resources without the corresponding controls that exist in the real world (and, presumably, the Agatean Empire). The Ankh-Morpork version of those controls would likely take the form of heavily-armed trolls.
The emergence of the Merchants’ Guild introduces another layer of competition to the political and economic system of Ankh-Morpork. When the merchants recognize the economic threat to tourism posed by rampant crime, they move to exert control over the Thieves’ and Assassins’ Guilds. As time goes by and the Merchants’ Guild grows in power, Ankh-Morpork will become a (generally) safer and more law-abiding city without losing its vitality, as it might have done under the control of a more intrusive government.
Part 3, “The Lure of the Wyrm,” is about imagination and reality. Pratchett has spoken of imagination as the thing that–more than intelligence–makes us human. Imagination enables us to bring new things into the world. It is the ability to see potential and to create something from nothing. Beyond a major theme, Pratchett also utilizes imagination as a symbol, which is further discussed in the Symbols and Motifs section of this guide.
Imagination helps us learn. According to an article from Scientific American, children who learn new vocabulary by reading a fantasy story are able to use the words in a more sophisticated way–employing more nuance and subtler connotations–than children who learn the same words from a nonfiction story. Researchers theorize that in a fantasy story, readers can’t make assumptions about the narrative the way they can in a realistic story—for example, that people, broomsticks, and Discworlds fall unless they are resting on something. Readers have to hold more possibilities in their head and be more aware of the story environment, enabling them to make more connections between the ideas in the story (“Imagine That, Fantasy May Help Kids Learn”).
One of Pratchett’s common themes is the power of imagination to create reality. For example, the character of Death is the anthropomorphized personification of a natural process (the process of, well, death). In later books, Pratchett reveals that millions of people over thousands of years imagined death in the shape of a black-hooded figure harvesting souls with a scythe, and their belief brought Him into existence. On the Discworld, gods (and anthropomorphized personifications of natural processes) wax and wane according to the belief invested in them. In Roundworld, we don’t create manifestations of anthropomorphized personifications. We do, however, create and realize abstract ideas like justice and freedom—themes which are further tackled in the Discworld series.
Fantasy as a genre is not for everyone; many readers prefer other types of fiction, while many more favor nonfiction works. Pratchett famously said that “stories of imagination tend to upset those without one” (Pratchett, Terry. “Foreword.” The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Fantasy, edited by Tim Dedopulos and David Pringle, Welbeck, 2021, p. iv.). He plays with this idea through Rincewind, who is uncomfortable with the trappings of fantasy—magic, dragons, and so on—despite the fact that they are manifestly real. When Rincewind engages in fantasy, it is to imagine a world without magic. This is especially ironic given that Rincewind is a wizard.
One explanation for why some people dislike fantasy is that for people with very concrete and analytical minds, fantasy forces them to think in ways to which they are not well-adapted. Like struggling to reach something on a very high shelf, the effort is not just difficult, it is unpleasant. Since more analytical thinkers may not experience the benefits of fantasy themselves, they may feel that other works (like literary fiction or nonfiction) are inherently more valuable. Fantasy, in contrast, may seem like a waste of time to those who struggle with deeply creative thinking.
This is not to say that fantasy in the only genre which taps into the power of imagination. However, fantasy is one of the most blatant depictions of imaginative power. When readers pick up a fantasy book, they know to suspend their disbelief—to accept that wizards, dragons, and sentient Luggage exist within the realm of their chosen novel. This paves the way for accepting the broader themes embedded within such stories—themes that can be found in other genres, but cannot be presented the way fantasy handles them. Fantasy fiction exercises the mental “muscles” that drive social change and scientific progress. By encouraging creativity, fantasy fiction allows us to explore new ideas and ways of thinking, which can lead to better understanding of the real world in which we live.
By Terry Pratchett