Screaming into the Virtual Wind

BBC Four have just shown the last part of a series called Worlds of Fantasy, which followed the rise of fantasy as a popular literary genre. It started with Victorian childrens’ writers such as Lewis Carroll and J.M. Barrie, chronicled the cult of Tolkien and his rise to near god-like status in the sixties (a state of affairs, apparently, that appalled him); and finished with the notable writers of modern times, including Terry Pratchett and China Mieville (who I still haven’t read… so many books, so little time, sigh). As a life long fantasy fan, this series was for me what a doughnut is for Homer Simpson (I didn’t do that drooling thing, “Mmm… Doughnut”, but I certainly felt like doing it).

What I particulary loved was the little insights into the writers’ minds. What compelled them to invent fantastic creatures and awesome landscapes, often during periods when everyone else was writing middle-class, kitchen sink dramas? It also reminded me how much I adore Terry Pratchett, god love ‘im. A real British institution, the man should have his own statue in Trafalgar Square. He was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, which is a ridulously tragic disease for a man with his imagination.

I’ve abstained from picking up a Discworld novel for far too long. When I was in my pre/early teens, Pratchett was my favourite author. I read as many Discworld books as I could get my grubby little hands on. I even had the map of Ankh Morpork pinned to my bedroom wall and cherished the signed copy of Johnny and the Dead I won in a competition (using a photograph of an unfortunate pen pal because I was too wussy to have my own mug displayed in a national paper… but that’s another story). The thing was, I always knew the Discworld stories were supposed to be humourous, but I was too young to get the joke. I loved them because the characters rocked and the plots were engrossing (plus I had a crush on Death, oh dear), but they never made me laugh. Since watching Worlds of Fantasy and finally understanding what that line in The Colour of Magic about Rincewind’s enduring hetrosexuality meant, I suddenly have the burning need to read them all again. Thank you BBC!

I would have posted a neat little clip from YouTube, but for some reason the BBC won’t let you embed their videos (and I’m a license payer, dammit!), so you’ll have to make do with this text link. You can still see the entire last episode on the BBC’s iPlayer site, although it’s only up until Wednesday 19 March so you’ll have to be quick. You’ll also have to be patient. I missed this episode and watched it online, braving the terribly slow rate of download and frequent pauses while it caught up with itself. I would say that rather than making the unmissable, unmissable, the BBC have made it unwatchable. But that would just be callous