I was nineteen when I first read Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Maybe twenty. I don’t remember now. But I do remember how I instantly fell in love with the book. I remember reading it and thinking, “Someone else feels the same way as me! I’m not the only one!”
Good Omens was funny, clever and witty. It took a familiar subject and gave it such a twist that you wondered whether this was the original and everything else was a copy. But it was also much more than that.
Woven into the prose was good dose of social commentary, frustration with humanity and the strong desire to create a better world. I lost myself in the story because I saw myself in their writing. I felt less alone, as if I’d found kindred spirits, and wanted to shout to the world that these guys Got It; that they understood what was wrong with people, and what was right and beautiful about them. I became an immediate fan of both writers, especially of Pratchett and his Discworld series (although I loved his other works as well).
Terry Pratchett passed away on the 12th of March.
I am grateful for every single word he gave us. He wrote fiction, but it was filled with truth. Even when I didn’t agree with him, I still felt that he was a genuine, warm and good person. He wrote what he believed in, what he saw so clearly and what he felt so deeply. I bonded with so many people over his work. I will miss him and his authenticity so much.
So goodbye for now, Terry Pratchett. I hope we can meet up one day, on a flat world filled with magic, and I can tell you in person how much you meant to me.
No prompts this weeks; I hope that’s okay.