The View from the Cheap Seats

by Neil Gaiman

  * * *

  This was originally published in the Guardian, May 21, 2014. Eighteen months later, well over four million people have fled Syria. Millions more have lost their homes, their towns, are “internally displaced” but have not yet crossed the border out of Syria. Political solutions and humanitarian solutions are needed. The heartbreak doesn’t end.

  * * *

  A Slip of the Keyboard: Terry Pratchett

  I want to tell you about my friend Terry Pratchett, and it’s not easy. I’m going to tell you something you may not know.

  Some people have encountered an affable man with a beard and a hat. They believe they have met Sir Terry Pratchett. They have not.

  Science fiction conventions often give you someone to look after you, to make sure you get from place to place without getting lost. Some years ago I ran into someone who had once been Terry’s handler at a convention in Texas. His eyes misted over at the memory of getting Terry from his panel to the book-dealers’ room and back. “What a jolly old elf Sir Terry is,” he said.

  And I thought, No. No, he’s not.

  Back in February 1991, Terry and I were on a book signing tour for Good Omens, a book we had written together. We can tell you dozens of not-only-funny-but-also-true stories about the things that happened on that tour. Terry alludes to a few of them in this book. This story is true, but it is not one of the stories we tell.

  We were in San Francisco. We had just done a stock signing in a bookshop, signing the dozen or so copies of our book they had ordered. Terry looked at the itinerary. Next stop was a radio station: we were due to have an hour-long interview on live radio. “From the address, it’s just down the street from here,” said Terry. “And we’ve got half an hour. Let’s walk it.”

  This was a long time ago, best beloved, in the days before GPS systems and mobile phones and taxi-summoning apps and suchlike useful things that would have told us in moments that no, it would not be a few blocks to the radio station. It would be several miles, all uphill and mostly through a park.

  We called the radio station as we went, whenever we passed a pay phone, to tell them that we knew we were now late for a live broadcast, and that we were, promise cross our sweaty hearts, walking as fast as we could.

  I would try and say cheerful, optimistic things as we walked. Terry said nothing, in a way that made it very clear that anything I could say would probably just make things worse. I did not, ever, say, at any point on that walk, that all of this would have been avoided if we had just got the bookshop to call us a taxi. There are things you can never unsay, that you cannot say and still remain friends, and that would have been one of them.

  We reached the radio station at the top of the hill, a very long way from anywhere, about forty minutes into our hour-long live interview. We arrived all sweaty and out of breath, and they were broadcasting the breaking news. A man had just started shooting people in a local McDonald’s, which is not the kind of thing you want to have as your lead-in when you are now meant to talk about a funny book you’ve written about the end of the world and how we’re all going to die.

  The radio people were angry with us, too, and understandably so: it’s no fun having to improvise when your guests are late. I don’t think that our fifteen minutes on the air were very funny.

  (I was later told that Terry and I had both been blacklisted by that San Franciscan radio station for several years, because leaving a show’s hosts to burble into the dead air for forty minutes is something the Powers of Radio do not easily forget or forgive.)

  Still, by the top of the hour it was all over. We went back to our hotel, and this time we took a taxi. Terry was silently furious: with himself, mostly, I suspect, and with the world that had not told him that the distance from the bookshop to the radio station was much further than it had looked on our itinerary. He sat in the back of the cab beside me white with anger, a non-directional ball of fury. I said something hoping to placate him. Perhaps I said that ah well, it had all worked out in the end, and it hadn’t been the end of the world, and suggested it was time to not be angry anymore.

  Terry looked at me. He said, “Do not underestimate this anger. This anger was the engine that powered Good Omens.”

  I thought of the driven way that Terry wrote, and of the way that he drove the rest of us with him, and I knew that he was right.

  There is a fury to Terry Pratchett’s writing. It’s the fury that was the engine that powered Discworld, and you will discover it here: it’s the anger at the headmaster who would decide that six-year-old Terry Pratchett would never be smart enough for the Eleven-Plus exam; anger at pompous critics, and at those who think that serious is the opposite of funny; anger at his early American publishers who could not bring his books out successfully.

  The anger is always there, an engine that drives. By the time this book enters its final act, and Terry learns he has a rare, early-onset form of Alzheimer’s, the targets of his fury change: now he is angry with his brain and his genetics and, more than these, furious at a country that will not permit him (or others in a similarly intolerable situation) to choose the manner and the time of their passing.

  And that anger, it seems to me, is about Terry’s underlying sense of what is fair and what is not.

  It is that sense of fairness that underlies Terry’s work and his writing, and it’s what drove him from school to journalism to the press office of the Central Electricity Generating Board to the position of being one of the best-loved and bestselling writers in the world.

  It’s the same sense of fairness that means that in this book, sometimes in the cracks, while talking of other things, he takes time to punctiliously acknowledge his influences—Alan Coren, for example, who pioneered so many of the techniques of short humor that Terry and I have filched over the years; or the glorious overstuffed heady thing that is Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable and its compiler, the Reverend E. Cobham Brewer, that most serendipitous of authors. Terry’s Brewer’s introduction made me smile—we would call each other up in delight whenever we discovered a book by Brewer we had not seen before (“’Ere! Have you already got a copy of Brewer’s A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, Realistic and Dogmatic?”)

  The pieces selected here cover Terry’s entire writing career, from schoolboy to Knight of the Realm of Letters, and are still of a piece. Nothing has dated, save perhaps for the references to specific items of computer hardware. (I suspect that, if he has not by now donated it to a charity or a museum, Terry could tell you exactly where his Atari Portfolio is, and just how much he paid for the handcrafted add-on memory card that took its memory up to an impossibly huge one megabyte.) The authorial voice in these essays is always Terry’s: genial, informed, sensible, drily amused. I suppose that, if you look quickly and are not paying attention, you might, perhaps, mistake it for jolly.

  But beneath any jollity there is a foundation of fury. Terry Pratchett is not one to go gentle into any night, good or otherwise. He will rage, as he leaves, against so many things: stupidity, injustice, human foolishness and shortsightedness, not just the dying of the light, although that’s here too. And, hand in hand with the anger, like an angel and a demon walking hand in hand into the sunset, there is love: for human beings, in all our fallibility; for treasured objects; for stories; and ultimately and in all things, love for human dignity.

  Or to put it another way, anger is the engine that drives him, but it is the greatness of spirit that deploys that anger on the side of the angels, or better yet for all of us, the orangutans.

  Terry Pratchett is not a jolly old elf at all. Not even close. He’s so much more than that.

  As Terry walks into the darkness much too soon, I find myself raging too: at the injustice that deprives us of—what? Another twenty or thirty books? Another shelf-full of ideas and glorious phrases and old friends and new, of stories in which people do what they really do do best, which is use their heads to get themselves out of the trouble they got into by not thinking
? Another book or two like this, of journalism and agitprop and even the occasional introduction? But truly, the loss of these things does not anger me as it should. It saddens me, but I, who have seen some of them being built close up, understand that any Terry Pratchett book is a small miracle, and we already have more than might be reasonable, and it does not behoove any of us to be greedy.

  I rage at the imminent loss of my friend.

  And I think, What would Terry do with this anger?

  Then I pick up my pen, and I start to write.

  * * *

  This was the introduction to Terry Pratchett’s nonfiction collection, A Slip of the Keyboard, 2014. I wrote it while he was still with us, could still read it. He told me he liked it, and I was relieved. Terry died on March 12, 2015. I can’t talk to him any longer. I miss my friend.

  * * *

  Credits

  Many of the pieces appearing in this collection were first published elsewhere. Permission and copyright information as follows:

  Introduction copyright © 2016 by Neil Gaiman.

  “Credo” copyright © 2015 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the New Statesman.

  “Why Our Future Depends on Libraries, Reading and Daydreaming: The Reading Agency Lecture, 2013” copyright © 2013 by Neil Gaiman. First published on ReadingAgency.org.uk.

  “Telling Lies for a Living . . . and Why We Do It: The Newbery Medal Speech, 2009” copyright © 2009 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the Journal of the Association of Library Service to Children.

  “Four Bookshops” copyright © 2002 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Shelf Life: Fantastic Stories Celebrating Bookstores.

  “Three Authors: On Lewis, Tolkien and Chesterton; The MythCon 35 Guest of Honor Speech” copyright © 2004 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Mythprint.

  “The Pornography of Genre, or the Genre of Pornography” copyright © 2016 by Neil Gaiman.

  “Ghosts in the Machines: Some Hallowe’en Thoughts” copyright © 2006 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the New York Times.

  “Some Reflections on Myth (with Several Digressions onto Gardening, Comics and Fairy Tales)” copyright © 1999 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art #31.

  “How Dare You: On America, and Writing About It” copyright © 2001 by Neil Gaiman. First published on Borders.com.

  “All Books Have Genders” copyright © 2001 by Neil Gaiman. First published on BN.com and Powells.com.

  “The PEN Awards and Charlie Hebdo” copyright © 2015 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the New Statesman.

  “What the [Very Bad Swear Word] Is a Children’s Book, Anyway? The Zena Sutherland Lecture” copyright © 2012 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Horn Book Magazine.

  “These Are Not Our Faces” copyright © 1996 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Faces of Fantasy.

  “Reflections: On Diana Wynne Jones” copyright © 2012 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Reflections.

  “Terry Pratchett: An Appreciation” copyright © 2004 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the Noreascon 4 Book.

  “On Dave McKean” copyright © 2002 by Neil Gaiman. First published in World Fantasy Convention 2002 Gods and Monsters.

  “How to Read Gene Wolfe” copyright © 2002 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the Program Book of the World Horror Convention 2002.

  “Remembering Douglas Adams” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Hitchhiker: A Biography of Douglas Adams.

  “Harlan Ellison: The Beast That Shouted Love at the Heart of the World” copyright © 1994 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Beast That Shouted Love at the Heart of the World.

  “Banging the Drum for Harlan Ellison” copyright © 1999 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the Readercon 11 program book.

  “On Stephen King, for the Sunday Times” copyright © 2012 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the UK Sunday Times.

  “Geoff Notkin: Meteorite Man” copyright © 2012 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Rock Star: Adventures of a Meteorite Man.

  “About Kim Newman, with Notes on the Creation and Eventual Dissolution of the Peace and Love Corporation” copyright © 1994 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Original Dr. Shade and Other Stories.

  “Gumshoe: A Book Review” copyright © 1989 Punch Productions Ltd. First published in Punch.

  “SIMCITY” copyright © 1995 by Neil Gaiman. First published in SimCity 2000.

  “Six to Six” copyright © 1988 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Time Out.

  “Fritz Leiber: The Short Stories” copyright © 2010 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Selected Stories.

  “Hothouse” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Hothouse.

  “Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 and What Science Fiction Is and Does” copyright © 2012 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Fahrenheit 451.

  “Of Time, and Gully Foyle: Alfred Bester and The Stars My Destination” copyright © 1996 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Stars My Destination.

  “Samuel R. Delany and The Einstein Intersection” copyright © 1998 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Einstein Intersection.

  “On the Fortieth Anniversary of the Nebula Awards: A Speech, 2005” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published on NeilGaiman.com.

  “The Bride of Frankenstein” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Cinema Macabre.

  “MirrorMask: An Introduction” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in MirrorMask: The Illustrated Film Script of the Motion Picture from the Jim Henson Company.

  “MirrorMask: A Sundance Diary” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Look magazine.

  “The Nature of the Infection: Some Thoughts on Doctor Who” copyright © 2003 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Eye of the Tyger.

  “On Comics and Films: 2006” copyright © 2006 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the Guardian.

  “Good Comics and Tulips: A Speech” copyright © 1993 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Gods and Tulips.

  “A Speech to Professionals Contemplating Alternative Employment,” Given at PROCON, April 1997 copyright © 1997 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Gods and Tulips.”

  “But What Has That to Do with Bacchus? Eddie Campbell and Deadface” copyright © 1990 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Deadface, vol. 1: Immortality Isn’t Forever.

  “Confessions: On Astro City and Kurt Busiek” copyright © 1999 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Astro City: Confession.

  “Batman: Cover to Cover” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Batman: Cover to Cover.

  “Bone: An Introduction, and Some Subsequent Thoughts” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Bone and Beyond.

  “Jack Kirby: King of Comics” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Kirby: King of Comics.

  “The Simon and Kirby Superheroes” copyright © 2010 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Simon and Kirby Superheroes.

  “The Spirit of Seventy-Five” copyright © 1996 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Chicago Comic Con’s 1996 “Ashcan” tribute to Will Eisner.

  “The Best of the Spirit” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Best of the Spirit.

  “Will Eisner: New York Stories” copyright © 2006 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Will Eisner’s New York: Life in the Big City.

  “The Keynote Speech for the 2003 Eisner Awards” copyright © 2003 by Neil Gaiman. First published on NeilGaiman.com.

  “2004 Harvey Awards Speech” copyright © 2004 by Neil Gaiman. First published on NeilGaiman.com.

  “The Best American Comics 2010” copyright © 2010 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Best American Comics 2010.

  “Some Strangeness in the Proportion: The Exquisite Beauties of Edgar Allan Poe” copyright © 2004 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Selected Poems and Tales.

  “On The New Annotated Dracula” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in
The New Annotated Dracula.

  “Rudyard Kipling’s Tales of Horror and Fantasy” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Rudyard Kipling’s Tales of Horror and Fantasy.

  “From the Days of Future Past: The Country of the Blind and Other Stories, by H. G. Wells” copyright © 2006 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Country of the Blind and Other Stories.

  “Business as Usual, During Alterations: Information Doesn’t Want to Be Free, by Cory Doctorow” copyright © 2014 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Information Doesn’t Want to Be Free: Laws for the Internet Age.

  “The Mystery of G. K. Chesterton’s Father Brown” © 1991 by Neil Gaiman. First published in 100 Great Detectives.

  “Concerning Dreams and Nightmares: The Dream Stories of H. P. Lovecraft” copyright © 1995 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Dream Cycle of H. P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death.

  “On The 13 Clocks by James Thurber” copyright © 2008 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The 13 Clocks.

  “Votan and Other Novels by John James” copyright © 2014 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Votan and Other Novels.

  “On Viriconium: Some Notes Toward an Introduction” copyright © 2005 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Viriconium.

  “So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish: An Introduction” copyright © 2009 by Neil Gaiman. First published in So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish.

  “Dogsbody by Diana Wynne Jones” copyright © 2011 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Dogsbody.

  “Voice of the Fire by Alan Moore” copyright © 2003 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Voice of the Fire.

  “Art and Artifice by Jim Steinmeyer” copyright © 2006 by Neil Gaiman. First published in Art and Artifice: And Other Essays of Illusion.

  “The Moth: An Introduction” copyright © 2014 by Neil Gaiman. First published in The Moth Book.

  “Hi, by the Way: Tori Amos” copyright © 1994 by Neil Gaiman. First published in the 1994 program book for Tori Amos’s Under the Pink tour.