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“Witches can generally come to terms with what actually is, instead of insisting on what ought to be.��

As anyone who knows me can attest to, I tend to gush over Pratchett's books, with all his wit and wisdom and the ability to create incredibly clever and very serious humor rooted in uncomfortably deep understanding of human mind.

“Personal’s not the same as important. People just think it is.��

Lords and Ladies of the Lancre Witches subcycle of the Discworld books was the first Pratchett Witches book I've read a few years ago (I tended to read them out of order, whichever one the library happened to have in stock) and the book that immediately sealed my love for Granny Weatherwax and Co.

These books are about a small coven of witches in a tiny mountainous country of Lancre, usually with a dab of William Shakespeare somewhere in the plot. As anything by Sir Terry, they of course have more layers than a Chernobyl-sized onion: the wisdom, the traditions, the heart of the land, the nooks and crannies of hearts and minds, and of course the people with all their quirks and oddities - and maybe even a bag of boiled sweets. But at the heart of every one of these is a formidable figure of Esmerelda "Granny" Weatherwax, an old skinny prickly witch with personality of steel, will of iron, wisdom of the land, and a sure knowledge of when NOT to use her immense scary power. She always knows who she is and why she is, and that's not something to take lightly.

“Other people would probably say: I wasn’t myself. But Granny Weatherwax didn’t have anyone else to be.��

Esme Weatherwax is a capital-W witch who knows that witching is far more than magic and power. She knows that the place where she lives is HERS, with all the responsibilities that stem from it. She knows that you don't need to be nice or loved or admired to be good at what you do. And she knows very well, with self-assurance that is prone to sometimes slide into a bit of arrogance, that crossing her is not something to be taken lightly. Does she have regrets about her life? Perhaps, to a point. But her core of steel, the Iron-in-her-Heart goes deep, even when she was just a young woman always a step ahead of a pursuing young man. Esme Weatherwax was always her own self, always knowing who she is.

“But what we have here is not a nice girl, as generally understood [...] Also, there’s a certain glint in her eye generally possessed by those people who have found that they are more intelligent than most people around them but who haven’t yet learned that one of the most intelligent things they can do is prevent said people ever finding this out.��

The focus of Lords and Ladies, insomuch as you can ever find a single overarching theme in a Pratchett book, is knowing the difference between what you wish things were and what they really are. Be it quiet regrets about what could have been if perhaps you had let the young man from your past catch up with you - even if it means letting go of something your core is made of, or a timid wish to steer your own life yourself even if it's already headed where you were hoping it would and not find yourself just another useless adornment in life, or being able to look past the alluring glamour and see that the easy way can indeed be much harder than the seemingly hard way.

“You mean you weren’t Chosen?��
“Me? No. I chose,�� said Granny [...] “I chose, Gytha Ogg. And I want that you should know this right now. Whatever happens. I ain’t never regretted anything. Never regretted one single thing. Right?��

And assure that in the midst of all of it that you know exactly who and why you are.

Even in the times like this, where things are not going right.

“There was a mind moving around in the kingdom, and Granny Weatherwax didn’t understand it.��

It's that time again where boundaries between universes - both parallel and parasite - are becoming thin and crop circles are forming everywhere, and a ring of ancient iron-loving stones is not enough to contain the titular Lords and Ladies (the Elves, decidedly not glamorously-Tolkienesque).

“Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvelous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.
No one ever said elves are nice.��

There is a royal wedding on a midsummer night's eve, and elves are loose in the world once again, and a unicorn is on a prowl while an ancient king is waiting for the iron in the hearts to be gone while a present-day king because of poor spelling gets a book on martial and very much not marital arts, and the Archancellor of the Unseen University may have had a past with the most formidable witch in perhaps the entire Discworld, and Magrat Garlick tries to come to terms with no longer being a witch but instead hopes to not fall into the useless queenly obscurity, and Nanny Ogg has caught an eye of the second-best lover in the universe. And it will take a village - spearheaded by the witches - to teach the invaders a lesson.

“When he’d gone, Nanny climbed up on the same table.
“Well,�� she said, “it’s like this. If you go out there you may have to face elves. But if you stops here, you definitely have to face me. Now, elves is worse than me, I’ll admit. But I’m persistent.��

I love this book. I love how Pratchett's writing never ceases to amaze me. I love how no matter how tired, exhausted or deeply stressed I am all I need to feel better is to curl up with a book like this and have Granny Weatherwax sort the world out into what she knows it's supposed to be.

“Granny, her voice still quite calm and level. “But this is a real world, madam. That’s what I had to learn. And real people in it. You got no right to ’em. People’ve got enough to cope with just being people. They don’t need you swanking around with your shiny hair and shiny eyes and shiny gold, going sideways through life, always young, always singing, never learning.��
“You didn’t always think like this.��
“That was a long time ago. And, my lady, old I may be, and hag I may be, but stupid I ain’t. You’re no kind of goddess. I ain’t against gods and goddesses, in their place. But they’ve got to be the ones we make ourselves. Then we can take ’em to bits for the parts when we don’t need ’em anymore, see? And elves far away in fairyland, well, maybe that’s something people need to get ’emselves through the iron times. But I ain’t having elves here. You make us want what we can’t have and what you give us is worth nothing and what you take is everything and all there is left for us is the cold hillside, and emptiness, and the laughter of the elves.��
She took a deep breath. “So bugger off.��

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My ever-expanding collection of Pratchett’s Discworld reviews:
- Guards! Guards!
- Men at Arms
- Thud!
- Lords and Ladies
- The Wee Free Men
- Hogfather
- Monstrous Regiment
- Night Watch

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