Equal Rites

What more can be possibly said about the late and great Terry Pratchett? I've yet to open a book bearing his name that I do not like, that does not amuse and delight, and does not leave me thoughtful and wiser.

Well, wiser at least in my own estimation. I'm sure Pratchett would have something to say about the narcissism of the self-assessment.

To Equal Rites itself: Eskarina was supposed to be born the eighth son of an eighth son, an auspicious combination that a dying wizard seeks out in order to pass along his powers. Pass them he does, as Esk is born, but Esk is a girl, not a boy, and she enters the world without regard for the expectations of men and wizards. And indeed, she aims to grow into her power without regard for wizard and men. As her

In a day and age when social justice messages of equality and diversity seem to win awards and accolades, Pratchett is a breath of fresh air. Using fantasy, satire and deft wordsmithing, he conveys minute truths and observations that are far more persuasive than heavy-handed and stilted stories to those who have eyes to see, but doesn't bowl over the less interested reader with contrived sermons and meaning.

Pratchett's characters can are fully formed, fully realized, and every subtle description fills in the depth of their character. This starts from his hook as the dying wizard stumbles along towards Esk's home and continues with Granny Weatherwax and her penchant for wearing her entire wardrobe at once. Some books rely on a single hook to pull you in, but Pratchett continues to hook in each chapter, page and paragraph with characters that fly from the page more colorful than real life.