Terry Pratchett, I have wronged you. . .

So, for years Terry Pratchett has been one of those authors that I know I'm supposed to like. However when I read him in high school and college, I found his books intensely hit or miss. At best I found them mildly amusing, at worst I found them intensely boring. So, I petered out on them and eventually excised them from my personal library.

However, I had plenty of friends who still read them and apparently read them so from time to time, I tried again. The recent attempt was inspired by the BBC's production of Going Postal. I love Richard Coyle and was enchanted by his performance by Moist von Lipwig. However, I've never gotten far enough along in the series to read the book it's based on. So, I decided to give the books another chance.

I'm reading them in order. I'd always found The Color of Magic a tortuous slog in the past, but this time I enjoyed it enough to be audibly giggling while reading it. It was a shock. I've similarly enjoyed my all the way through Small Gods,  which I just finished.

I've finally figured out why, this read through is so different. I'm much better read. A lot of what is so wonderful about the books is clever use of literary allusion and satire. He covers everything from Beowulf, to Macbeth, to Anglo-Saxon allegory. While the books work without a solid understanding of the referenced texts, much of what makes them clever and funny is derived from those texts.

Apparently, I'm finally a mature enough reader to appreciate what I'm reading. I apologize Sir Terry if I've ever maligned you.