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#william de worde – @stupidphototricks on Tumblr
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Whatever

@stupidphototricks

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The thing about The Truth is that it's actually a great action movie. I mean of course it is:

"Do you know what they called a sausage-in-a-bun in Quirm?" said Mr. Pin, as the two walked away. "No?" said Mr. Tulip. "They call it le sausage-in-le-bun." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

But my very favorite scene, the one that reaches out and grabs me, is when Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip are threatening William in the newsroom, and the realization hits that Goodmountain can secretly communicate with William through typesetting:

Goodmountain's hand moved again, flicking letter after letter from its nest. Armed? coff 4 yes -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

which is brilliant, so there's a silently-planned insurrection with an unexpected denouement that all plays out as if it was filmed in Technicolor with surround sound, teach me your ways, Sir Terry.

And we're only a little over halfway through the book here. There's still time for characters to make light conversation as everything falls apart around them:

"And there's another magazine that would sell, too," said Sacharissa. Behind her, a piece of the press collapsed. "Hello? Hello? I know my mouth is opening and shutting," said Goodmountain. "Is any sound getting out?" "Cats," said Sacharissa. "Lots of people like cats. Pictures of cats. Stories about cats. I've been thinking about it. It could be called... Completely Cats." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

and for Chekhov's Paper Spike to fulfill its purpose, and for Sacharissa to try out some nonstandard negotiation tactics:

"Let us use your 'ing' presses or I'll 'ing' shoot your 'ing' head 'ing' off!" she screamed. "I think that's how you're supposed to say it, isn't it?" -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

and for Otto to save the day again:

Otto Chriek dropped to the floor, hands raised like talons. "Good evening!" he said to a shocked bailiff. He looked at his hand. "Oh, vot am I thinking of!" He bunched his fists, and danced from foot to foot. "Put zem up in the traditional Ankh-Morpork pugilism!" -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

and for William to get A Talking To from Law Enforcement:

"Fred, send someone to take Mr. de Worde down to the cells, will you?" he yelled. "I'm calling it protective custody for now," he added, turning back to William." "Protecting me from whom?" "Well, I personally have an overwhelming urge to give you a ding alongside the ear," said Vimes. "But I suspect there are others out there without my self-control." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

and for a poignant moment when it's all over:

"I mean, I didn't try to do anything. I thought: This is a Story, and I have to tell it." "Yep," said Sacharissa, still bowed over her writing. "We've been press-ganged." "But it's not--" "Look at it like this," said Sacharissa, starting a fresh page. "Some people are heroes. And some people jot down notes." "Yes, but that's not very--" Sacharissa glanced up, and flashed him a smile. "Sometimes they're the same person," she said. -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

which, I mean. You see it, right?

Sir Terry Pratchett.

Our hero.

Who thought of Stories, and had to tell them.

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Dwarf tradition, in The Truth. Long quote but there is so much to unpack here.

"A dwarf needs gold to get married." "What… like a dowry? But I thought dwarfs didn't differentiate between--" "No, no, the two dwarfs getting married each buy the other dwarf off their parents." "Buy?" said William. "How can you buy people?" "See? Cultural misunderstanding once again, lad. It costs a lot of money to raise a young dwarf to marriageable age. Food, clothes, chain mail… it all adds up over the years. It needs repaying. After all, the other dwarf is getting a valuable commodity. And it has to be paid for in gold. That's traditional. Or gems. They're fine, too. You must've heard our saying 'worth his weight in gold'? Of course, if a dwarf's been working for his parents, that gets taken into account on the other side of the ledger. Why, a dwarf who's left off marrying till late in life is probably owed quite a tidy sum in wages—You're still looking at me in that funny way…" "It's just that we don't do it like that…" mumbled William. Goodmountain gave him a sharp look. "Don't you, now?" he said. "Really? What do you use instead, then?" "Er… gratitude, I suppose," said William. He wanted this conversation to stop, right now. It was heading out over thin ice. "And how's that calculated?" "Well… it isn't, as such…" "Doesn't that cause problems?" "Sometimes." "Ah. Well, we know about gratitude, too. But our way means the couple start their new lives in a state of… g'daraka… er, free, unencumbered, new dwarfs. Then their parents might well give them a huge wedding present, much bigger than the dowry. But it is between dwarf and dwarf, out of love and respect, not between debtor and creditor… though I have to say these human words are not really the best was of describing it. It works for us. It has worked for a thousand years." "I suppose to a human it sounds a bit… chilly," said William. Goodmountain gave him another studied look. "You mean by comparison to the warm and wonderful ways humans conduct their affairs?" he said. "You don't have to answer that one. Anyway, me and Boddony want to open up a mine together, and we're expensive dwarfs. We know how to work lead, so we thought a year or two of this would see us right." "You're getting married?" "We want to," said Goodmountain. "Oh… well, congratulations," said William. He knew enough not to comment on the fact that both dwarfs looked like small barbarian warriors with long beards. All traditional dwarfs looked like that.* *Most dwarfs were still referred to as "he" as well, even when they were getting married. It was generally assumed that somewhere under all that chain mail one of them was female and that both of them knew which one this was. But the whole subject of sex was one that traditionally minded dwarfs did not discuss, perhaps out of modesty, possibly because it didn't interest them very much, and certainly because they took the view that what two dwarfs decided to do together was entirely their own business. — Terry Pratchett, The Truth

I super love the footnote, of course, but unexpectedly now I kind of want this version of a dowry to be a thing. I mean, the dowries of the bad old days where the man basically bought the woman from her parents, that's not okay. But this.

I'm a parent, and in no way do I feel like my kid owes me for their upbringing, education, or even (I'm anticipating) a few years of post-college living at home. Not at all. I can't imagine not taking care of them or attaching any strings to that care.

But that's not what this is. Really, ideally, it's a way for parents and children to give each other the gift of the child's independence, their autonomy, their adulthood. To officially and tangibly say that their relationship from this point on is no longer parent/child, but something more on an equal level.

For that matter, I imagine the child is free not to have a relationship with their parents any more at all, if they want. No obligation, no guilt. If parents want to be in their kids' lives when they're adults, they'll need to make sure their kids actually like them as people.

Well. I know that our world of humans doesn't work like this. Even if we put a monetary value on what we owed our parents and paid it, we'd still feel obligated to them, at least a little. Even if our kids paid us back, we'd still feel like we had the right to control them, at least a little.

But man. That g'daraka thing sounds wonderful.

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Sacharissa Cripslock is an underrated character and I love this intro description of her:

Now he could see her a lot plainer, mostly because she was advancing towards him across the room, and in the light-headed way of people who think they're just about to die he realized that she was quite good-looking if considered over several centuries. Concepts of beauty change over the years, and two hundred years ago Sacharissa's eyes would have made the great painter Caravati bite his brush in half; three hundred years ago the sculptor Mauvaise would have taken one look at her chin and dropped his chisel on his foot; a thousand years ago the Ephebian poets would have agreed that her nose alone was capable of launching at least forty ships. And she had good medieval ears.

-- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

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