Just finished Raising Steam by Terry Pratchett and, much as it pains me to say this, it sucked. I read it all the way through to the end, despite it not being a Terry Pratchett novel at all: both out of respect to a truly great author, and out of the lingering hope that he might pull it all together - the mangled characters, the disjointed tone, the wretched pacing, the stilted dialogue - by the end. But he didnt, and that sucks. The reason it sucks, and the reason I was so moved by the fact that it sucked, is quite simple. For those of you who dont know, my father (the same age as Sir Pratchett) is also dying of early-onset Alzheimers. Even if I didnt know before why Terrys writing just isnt the same, Id know now. The signs are all there. Hes doing a marvellous job holding it together, and has an excellent support network, and I admire him and envy him the planning he has been able to undertake; but in the final analysis, Raising Steam is sadly a bridge too far for his writing. And just as it pains me when I find one of Dads treasured Christmas cards, which have, for many years now, chronicled the progress of his disease, it pains me to have read this book. Im afraid it will be the last new Pratchett book I read. I wish it were otherwise. But just like those Christmas cards, Im still going to be reading the rest of his books, hopefully for the rest of my life. Pardon me, something got in my eye there. Good night all.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 04:01:40 +0000
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