Secrets of the Wee Free Men and Discworld

by Linda Washington

  Of course, we can’t help comparing the list of these laborers to the Lancre Morris Men in LL. Pratchett mentions Carter the baker, Weaver the thatcher, Baker the weaver, Tailor “the other weaver,” Carpenter the poacher, Thatcher the carter, Tinker the tinker, and Jason Ogg the blacksmith, who call themselves “Rude Mechanicals” (LL, page 140)—an allusion to Puck’s description of the Athenian laborers in Dream: “a crew of patches, rude mechanicals that work for bread upon Athenian stalls.”76

  “The fair folk”—the elves/fairies or “lords and ladies” as Granny and Nanny call them—almost ruin “the course of true love” (Dream, act I, i, 136) with their antics, just as in Dream. In LL, the Fairy Queen’s desire for a mortal husband (even though she already has an immortal one) mirrors Titania’s flirting, as Oberon her King of the Fairies husband, would attest. The Long Man, the husband of the Fairy Queen, has to help set things right, just as Oberon has to do in Dream.

  Even though he has antlers, the Long Man reminds us of Pan, the Greek god of shepherds and flocks, who had goat horns and hooves. (If you saw Pan’s Labyrinth, an Oscar-winning film from 2006, directed by Guillermo del Toro, you’ve seen a portrayal of Pan.) But the name is an allusion to the Long Man of Wilmington, the male figure carved into Windover Hill in Sussex, England. No one knows who carved the figure, which is outlined by painted concrete blocks. It may have been done in the twelfth century.

  And what of the elves? They are mischievous like Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But their mischief goes beyond flinging a love potion or giving someone a donkey’s head. We’ve more to say about that in chapter 12. They only look like Legolas and the other noble elves of Lord of the Rings because of the glamour they cast on unsuspecting humans—the belief that they are beautiful.

  If you’re into Brian Froud at all, you know that he illustrated a number of books on fairy creatures (Giants; Faeries, co-illustrated with Alan Lee; Good Faeries/Bad Faeries). Pratchett’s elves would fall under the bad faeries category. Pratchett’s Fairy Queen, like Titania, is self-centered but less pliable than Titania. Unlike Gloriana, the fairy queen of Edmund Spenser’s epic, The Faerie Queen, Pratchett’s queen is iceberg-cold emotionally, colder than Hans Christian Andersen’s Snow Queen. In The Wee Free Men, where we meet her again (first in Lords and Ladies), she at least has some maternal instincts, as shown through her kidnapping of children (another allusion to the Snow Queen). But she really doesn’t understand children and thinks nothing of ordering her elves to shoot to kill any humans who get in her way. Can’t imagine Galadriel doing that!

  Hwel the playwright makes a guest appearance in a footnote at the end of LL with the mention of two titles for the same play: The Taming of the Vole and Things That Happened on a Midsummer Night. We don’t have to tell you that these titles are allusions to Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Whoops. Guess we already did.

  This is a great opportunity to take a ten-minute intermission. We expect you back in your seats when the lights flash.

  The Scottish Play: A Superstition

  In some theatrical circles, actors perform “the Scottish play,” rather than Macbeth. This is all due to the Macbeth superstition—the fear that performing the play will cause horrible things to happen to the actors or others on the set. In particular, those who even say the name of the play or use the words of the witches’ chant (act IV, scene I) could have an accident or die.

  Rumors of terrible things that happened to theatrical companies caused this superstition to flourish. So, how did this superstition begin?

  Many companies on the wane would perform Macbeth at the end of their season, hoping to stay in business, knowing that the crowds loved the play. But even the ticket sales for Macbeth couldn’t keep them afloat. So they closed, thus inspiring the fear that performing Macbeth would cause terrible things to happen.

  ACT II: IN WHICH WE EXPLORE MUSICAL THEATER

  A Grand Day at the Opera

  When was the last time you saw Phantom of the Opera? We’ve seen the stage production a combined total of about seven times. Maskerade revisits the world of the Phantom of the Opera. But Andrew Lloyd Webber’s stage hit wouldn’t have been made had it not been for the book written by Gaston Leroux and serialized in 1909-10. Leroux was inspired to write books because of the well-known mysteries of Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Allan Poe. Although Leroux said that the inspiration for Phantom was the Paris opera house and an accident that took place in 1896, when the counterweight of a chandelier dropped on the audience (ouch), it also may have been inspired by Trilby, a popular novel by George du Maurier, published in 1894. The protagonist is Trilby, a tone-deaf young woman who can’t sing but who is hypnotized into doing so by Svengali, a musician and mesmerist.

  Leroux’s world is populated by opera ingénue Christine Daaé, her aristocratic childhood friend Raoul, opera diva Carlotta, opera managers Richard and Moncharmin, Madame Giry, and Erik, the misshapen “opera ghost”/“angel of music” whose murderous antics overshadow all. A man known as the Persian witnesses the story’s events.

  Erik vows to make Christine a great opera singer if she remains in his control and loves only him. He’s also not above extorting money from the previous managers of the opera house and occasionally killing anyone who gets in his way. (As a criminal, he is an overachiever.) But Raoul falls for Christine, who reciprocates his love, which raises the ire of Erik, who tries to coerce Christine into giving up Raoul, by first kidnapping her and then torturing Raoul and the Persian to rid himself of his rival. But Christine later talks Erik into letting them go.

  Opera, of course, plays a major part in the story, with the mention of performances of Gounod’s opera Faust (based on Goethe’s epic) and Erik’s own composition—Don Juan Triumphant.

  Leroux’s book wasn’t exactly a smash hit when it hit the shelves. But a 1925 Lon Chaney movie helped it gain more attention. Other film versions soon followed, including one in 1943 with Claude Rains and Nelson Eddy. (We didn’t see either one.)

  Andrew Lloyd Webber’s stage production of Phantom, which first opened in London in 1986, became the Phantom most people remember. As of the writing of this book, it is the longest-running show on Broadway in history. It spawned a movie adaptation of its own—a 2004 production directed by Joel Schumacher and produced by Webber.

  Pratchett stepped into the Phantom world with Maskerade, a title that plays on the masquerade taking place during the course of Leroux’s story and the stage play and Poe’s story “The Masque of the Red Death”—from which Erik’s Red Death costume in the book and musical is derived. (Got all that? There will be a quiz later … . Just kidding.)

  A Christine inhabits the Pratchett Phantom world, but so does an Agnes Nitt, the would-be member of Granny Weatherwax’s trio of witches, whose voice is used for Christine’s opera debut. Instead of Paris, the venue is Ankh-Morpork. Instead of Buquet, the murdered scene-stealer in Leroux’s story, there is Mr. Bucket, the owner of the opera house. (A scene-stealer does make an appearance in Maskerade.) And instead of Erik the solitary phantom, there are two opera ghosts: Walter Plinge and Salzella, the musical director. But per Webber’s production, there is an André. But instead of being the owner/manager of the house, he is an undercover cop as well as a piano player.

  Not content to parody the plot of Phantom, Pratchett alludes to several operas, not to mention the one-two combo of a title like The Joye of Snacks (Nanny Ogg’s racy cookbook), which parodies in content and title both The Joy of Cooking and The Joy of Sex. But let’s stick with opera.

  PRATCHETT OPERAS THE OPERAS TO WHICH PRATCHETT ALLUDES

  Cosí fan Hita Così fan tutte, composed by Wolf gang Amadeus Mozart

  Die Meistersinger van Scrote Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (The Mastersingers of Nuremberg), composed by Richard Wagner

  Lohenshaak Lohengrin, composed by Wagner

  La triviata La traviata (The Fallen One), composed by Giuseppe Verdi

  Il Truccator
e (The Master of Disguise) Il trovatore (The Troubadour), composed by Verdi

  Die Fleiderliev Die Fledermaus (The Bat), com posed by Johann Strauss II

  The Ring of the Nibelungingung Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung), composed by Wagner

  The Barber of Pseudopolis Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville), composed by Gioacchino Rossini

  The Enchanted Piccolo Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute), composed by Mozart

  Other theatrical productions mentioned in Maskerade:

  PRATCHETT MUSICALS THE MUSICALS TO WHICH PRATCHETT ALLUDES

  Guys and Trolls Guys and Dolls, composed by Frank Loesser and adapted from Damon Runyon’s short story by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows, opened in 1950.

  Hubward Side Story West Side Story, an updated Romeo and Juliet, was composed by Leonard Bernstein with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and a book by Arthur Laurents, opened in 1957.

  Miserable Les Les Misérables, written by Claude- Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil, who based it on the novel by Victor Hugo, opened in Paris in 1980. It is the third-longest running show on Broadway (behind Cats and Phantom).

  Seven Dwarfs for Seven Other Dwarfs Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, a 1954 movie directed by Stanley Donen, with lyrics by Johnny Mercer and music by Saul Chaplin and Gene de Paul.

  With Discworld’s parodies, the play’s the thing and the play’s cha-ching for Pratchett. For another musical parodied, see chapter 13. But for now, please exit to your right. And don’t forget your playbill.

  Ringside Seats

  I n The Fifth Elephant, Sam, Sybil, and the rest of the diplomatic team travel to Shmaltzberg in Uberwald and see a performance of the dwarf opera Bloodaxe and Ironhammer. This opera, we’re told, is from the Koboldean Cycle—a series of operas usually performed over five weeks. Well, that’s an allusion to Richard Wagner’s opera series Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung)—which is about as grand as opera can get. Many people just call it the Ring Cycle.

  The four operas of the Ring Cycle are Das Rheingold, Die Walküre, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung. This opera series is usually shown over four nights and takes about fifteen hours to perform. (If you’re tempted to sneer at that, consider the fact that many people watched all three Lord of the Rings extended editions in marathon showings at theaters—almost twelve hours of viewing, not to mention a marathon of all five Best Picture Oscar nominees for 2007 at AMC theaters.)

  Maybe you’re not into opera as grand as that. But many fantasy writers, including Pratchett, Tolkien, Stephen R. Donaldson, and the Wachowski Brothers (the Matrix trilogy), were familiar with the story.

  The Ring Cycle, which is based on Norse mythology, is about a magic ring a dwarf named Alberich forged out of Rheingold stolen from the Rhine that grants power to rule the world. (So, it’s fitting that the Koboldean Cycle is performed by dwarfs!) Everyone who gains it has great difficulty giving it up. Sound familiar? Wotan (Odin), the chief god, steals the ring, thus prompting Alberich to curse it. All who obtain it come to grief as Wotan soon finds out. (Sméagol in Lord of the Rings found that out as well.) Siegfried—a hero not unlike Achilles in that he’s part god, part human, with one weakness (his back instead of his heel)—obtains it, to his doom. If you saw Matrix Revolutions, you saw a funeral as grand as that of Siegfried’s in Götterdämmerung.

  After that, the ring finally returns from whence it came, just as the ring in Lord of the Rings returns to Mount Doom. Kinda gets you all choked up, doesn’t it?

  Part Two

  The Few, the Proud, the Inept: Who’s Who in Discworld

  6

  Witchy Woman

  Wooo hooo witchy woman, See how high she flies.

  —“Witchy Woman” by the Eagles from The Eagles album (1972), lyrics by Don Henley77

  Witches are just plain meaner than wizards.

  —Professional wizard/detective Harry Dresden in Storm Front78

  BEWITCHED

  What words or images does the word “witch” conjure in your mind? (Ha ha. Pun intended.) Bad-tempered? Evil? Scary? Warty? An image of someone mysterious like the woman in the song above, even though that song is really not about a witch, per se? It is one that conflicts many people—us included. Traditionally, witches in literature have not been viewed as positively as warlocks or sorcerers have. Think of the image of Ged (Ursula LeGuin’s Earthsea series) or Merlin (for more on them, see the next chapter) versus Ged’s aunt in A Wizard of Earthsea. Whereas Ged becomes a learned man well versed in high magic, the magic-wielding aunt walks in ignorance and battles the suspicions of others. Or think of The Crucible, Arthur Miller’s classic play about the Salem witch hunt, as a symbol for McCarthyism. (Or maybe you wish to forget that.) Consider the fears, prejudices, and ignorance of the townspeople and how the accusation of witchcraft became a tool in the hands of manipulative individuals.

  Let’s get back to image. Many of the books and movies written today have tried to shake up the image of the witch we’re used to in fairy tales. In the 1960s, there was Samantha Stephens, the suburban housewife/witch played by Elizabeth Montgomery in the TV show Bewitched, which you can still see on TV Land. You know—the one with the annoying mother, Endora, and the mortal husband, Darrin (played by two different actors—Dick York and Dick Sargent). Samantha made a comeback in the 2005 movie starring Nicole Kidman and Will Ferrell. (Perhaps you wish to forget that, as well.) Just before the movie Bewitched, TV shows and movies like Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and The Craft featured younger witches. And of course, there’s the Harry Potter book and movie series, and Wicked—first the book, then the hit play.

  As you know, witches in traditional fairy tales tend to come in oven door-slamming sizes, ride broomsticks, have warts, and cackle. They’re wicked (the Wicked Witches of the West and East from Oz), like to snack on children (Baba Yaga in Russian fairy tales; the witch in “Hansel and Gretel”), are fond of cats, and wouldn’t win any beauty contests. But sometimes witches are beautiful, but still evil at heart, like the White Witch in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis’s classic tale, Morgan Le Fay in the King Arthur tales, or the queen in “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” the Brothers Grimm fairy tale used in the 1937 Disney movie. The queen was also of the stepmother variety and you know what fairy tales have to say about them. (See evil above.)

  But in the Harry Potter series, Hermione Granger is one of the heroines and doesn’t have a wart. She is fond of cats, though. And then there’s Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor House—a stern but noble woman, who can turn herself into a cat, and Professor Trelawney, who’s ditzy. In Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, Moiraine Damodred, Egwene al’Vere, Nynaeve al’Meara and many others are Aei Sedai—female channelers of power—who behave heroically, but sometimes make mistakes. None of them have warts, either. And let’s not forget the Bene Gesserits—the witches of the Dune series. Like Jessica, the mother of Paul (Muad’Dib), they can be manipulative. (Some would call that assertive.) But no warts there, either.

  So, what are witches like in Discworld? Well, they are …

  … Powerful.

  At Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is touted as the best witch of her generation. So, what does that mean exactly? Well, she’s the smartest girl at school, for one thing. (Well, in book 7 this aspect changed to a degree.) Esmeralda (Granny) Weatherwax is possibly the best witch in Discworld. In other words, she’s the Ged or Merlin of her world. (Although we wonder if Tiffany Aching may someday eclipse her.) Her brand of “headology” (she makes you do the work instead of her) may seem like a bunch of hooey or psychobabble, but it helps her reserve power. She unleashes it from time to time to help save Discworld.

  She’s a borrower—but not like the Clocks in Mary Norton’s classic children’s series The Borrowers. She can delve into the mind of an animal. This is different from actual transformation into an animal, as wizards such as Ged or Merlin achieve with the right word of power. After all, Granny leaves her body
behind, usually with a sign reminding others that she’s alive.

  With a troll-given name Aaoograha hoa (“She Who Must Be Avoided”—see Maskerade—or the dwarf-given name K’ez’rek d’b’duz (“Go Around the Other Side of the Mountain”—also in Maskerade), you know that others see her as intimidating. (Maybe right now, you’re thinking of “He Who Must Not Be Named”—Lord Voldemort of the Harry Potter series. Well, Maskerade came first.) And Granny’s good at psyching out opponents in Cripple Mr. Onion—the preferred card game of Discworld. Only a fool would bet against her.

  Imagine what being the best at something is like. (Perhaps you don’t have to imagine—you are.) Like a gunslinger, you wait for someone to come along and challenge your position. Only when that person comes, you know that being the best might mean killing or being killed, severely wounded, dethroned, or humiliated. That’s Granny’s position. When a younger witch and a Fairy Queen challenge her in Lords and Ladies, Granny can’t say, “No, I’d rather not, thanks.” Part of the territory of being the best means accepting any challenge. This is Jason Ogg’s position, as well (see chapter 14).