In the literary world there are these things called munchies. I use the term things because this ‘genre’ of storytelling is not limited to novels and nonfiction, but present in just about every type of writing. A munchie, by my definition, is any written piece that you can pick up and finish in one sitting, put down, and then get on with your life.
There are two types of munchies: the good ones and the bad ones. The good ones stay in your head for a day or a week or two. The bad ones leave your mind as soon as they are done. Most of the bad ones happen to be romance novels driven entirely by the primal urges they hope to represent. These works focus on exploiting you for one emotion and then never again can sway you. To be clear and fair, these don’t have to be bad books, one example of a bad munchie that is not a bad book is Stephen Colbert’s I am America (and So Can You), which is so funny that it may be unhealthy in large doses. But millions of books can easily fall under the bad book bad munchie category.
Generally a munchie is a book you read in between heavy books. It gives you the chance to rest from the strain of particularly complicated works without the guilt of a netflix binge.
So why am I writing about munchies today? Because today I’m reviewing the work of one of the greatest Sci-fi/fantasy munchie writers who ever lived: Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett is the creator of Discworld- an unhealthy overthinking of what the world would be like if it was a flat disk rested on the backs of four elephants who spin in a circle on the back of the great A’Tuin- a giant space turtle. Discworld, after the Colors of Magic, became the setting of 47 novels and short stories which he worked on until his death.
It cannot be denied that Terry Pratchett may be one of the greatest world builders who ever lived- but today I want to focus on the great munchieness of his writing style.