The Color of Magic (Discworld #1)
The Color of Magic hooked me on the second page with a laugh-out-loud joke that still makes me smile whenever I think about it.1 I knew from that moment on I would eventually read every Discworld story. That was all it took. Two pages and one great joke.
The Color of Magic is a Rincewind novel. If you’ve not read any Discworld books, that statement will be completely meaningless, but if you have, it will immediately give you a good idea what to expect. Discworld fans tend to group the novels based on their protagonists. Partly this is for ease of reference and continuity, but also because the books feel genuinely different depending on who the protagonist is. In a Rincewind novel, you expect a mad dash from one dangerous situation to another with barely enough time to breathe and that’s exactly what you get with The Color of Magic. For better or worse.
Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind, but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture.
Rincewind is a wizard. A really bad wizard. So bad, he can’t spell it.2 And he’s a coward. Why fight when you can run is my his motto. Rincewind’s only talents of note are not dying and languages. The latter gets him selected as tour guide for the hopelessly naïve Twoflower who is the city of Ankh-Morpork’s first ever tourist. Twoflower’s optimism and willingness to see the best in everybody is in stark contrast to Rincewind’s somewhat more skeptical nature. Ankh-Morpork may be an old city, but its residents quickly to adapt to new situations, especially when money is involved. They immediately latch onto the idea of tourism and fleece Twoflower for every piece of gold he carries around in his massive piece of sentient luggage.
“I assure you, the thought never even cross my mind, Lord.” “Indeed? Then if I were you I’d sue my face for slander.”
One thing that struck me while reading The Color of Magic again after all these years was how well it introduces the city of Ankh-Morpork. Ankh-Morpork is a common setting for Discworld stories and it develops a lot more later on, especially in the Night Watch books. However, the foundation is all here. If you’ll excuse the cliché, Ankh-Morpork feels like a character in itself. I don’t know whether I’m just saying this because Pratchett is British, but I always assumed Ankh-Morpork was a dark and twisted version of Victorian London. Pub patrons are just as likely to stab a newcomer as smile at them. There are rough districts like the Shades, and of course, there’s the River Ankh, which is so polluted you can practically walk across it. Theft and murder are legal so long as you’re a paid up member of the Thieves or Assassins Guild. There’s a definite Victorian England vibe here (although the way things are going it may also be a 2020s England vibe).
Pratchett is often described as a satirist. Many of his Discworld books are based on the premise of “What if x but satirical?” So Moving Pictures satirizes Hollywood, Going Postal does the postal service, etc. However, in his early books, Pratchett attempted to satirize the fantasy genre as a whole, with its penchant for muscular barbarian types and women who were unfortunate enough to end up in the most bizarre of situations wearing very little clothing. The Color of Magic tackles many old-school fantasy tropes. For example, there’s a prestigious wizard school except the wizards as inept as they are old, and more likely to be found plotting to kill their Archchancellor than nurturing the next generation.
Some pirates achieved immortality by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved immortality by amassing great wealth. But the captain had long ago decided that he would, on the whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.
As much as I love Pratchett’s humor, it’s fair to say the satire in this book hasn’t aged as well as in others. The fantasy genre of the 70s and early 80s deserved to be the butt of jokes but the genre is in a great place right now. There’s diversity of characters and authors and more great books than I’ll ever get around to reading (especially if I insist on re-reading a 40+ book series that I’ve already read). I’m not saying these problems have completely gone away, but at this stage, if you’re reading grossly misogynistic representations of women in stories where everyone is white (except the bad guys), you’re at least doing so out of choice and not necessity.
A common problem with the early Discworld novels is that they aren’t well structured. Pratchett does a great job establishing Ankh-Morpork, Rincewind, Twoflower, and the nature of the world in general, but doesn’t then go on to tell a compelling story with those characters and settings. The book also ends in a cliffhanger which is continued in the second book, The Light Fantastic.
That cliffhanger ending has always felt a touch odd given that every other Discworld story is completely standalone. That said, I’m glad the two books were separated. By the time I reached the end of The Color of Magic, I was relieved it was over. The second half is borderline exhausting to read. Rincewind and Twoflower just sort of stumble from one disaster to another without any clear motivation. Now, it’s fair to point out that stumbling through life and surviving is very much Rincewind’s raison d'être, however, it doesn’t necessarily make for an exciting story.
Pratchett’s desire to make jokes about nearly every facet of fantasy books—and even nerd culture as a whole—means reading The Color of Magic often feels like moving through a checklist of fantasy tropes. In later books, Pratchett would create an entire story around one idea or theme. In The Color of Magic, Pratchett whips through his spin on D&D, Conan, dragons, etc, while barely stopping for breath.
It is at this point that normal language gives up, and goes and has a drink.
The pacing is frantic and not in a good way. I often had to stop and flick back a few pages because I’d missed how we got from one situation to another. The first half is much stronger though. There are parts from the early sections that I vividly remember from my first read twenty years ago, such as Twoflower selling a pub landlord a new product called “inn sewer ants.” Conversely, even having just re-read the book, I’m struggling to recall many details from the second half. It’s like a dream. The more I struggle to recall it, the more it slips away.
However, that first half is excellent and the book isn’t long so even if you don’t love how it ends, you aren’t going to lose much time finding out. And if you don’t read The Color of Magic, you can’t go on to read The Light Fantastic. And look, you’re going to read The Color of Magic at some point, so just do yourself a favor and start at the beginning. I promise, it’s worth it.
You’re not going to find it as funny as I did. For one thing, I was 16 and a touch on the immature side when I read it. But also because I’ve just made a big deal out of it and nothing kills a joke like being told in advance there’s a really funny joke coming up.
his hat says “wizzard”