Friday, 12 June 2020 10:06 pm
Book Review: The Fifth Elephant
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deckardcanineMy last Discworld read was about three years ago. You can see earlier reviews here. Chronologically, this volume comes fourth among the five familiar to me. I took that as a promising sign: Terry Pratchett had been honing his craft but would not develop Alzheimer's for years yet.
By this time, Commander Sam Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch is also a duke. As such, he is ordered by Lord Vetinari to become a temporary ambassador to Uberwald, home to many dwarfs, werewolves, and vampires (oddly enough, he gets the least amount of trouble from that last group), for a trade deal. I suspect that Vetinari has more than trade in mind, because Vimes is accompanied by a shadily talented figure and sees a higher priority for which he is more clearly suited: solving a mystery involving a stolen artifact and a series of murders, both in Ankh-Morpork and in Uberwald. Sure, untimely death is hardly uncommon in either place, but this case affects matters of leadership and could lead to war -- undoubtedly someone's goal.
I previously complained about Harper Collins giving away too much on the jacket; this time it outright lies. The titular elephant (fifth in relation to the four on which Discworld spins) is not at the heart of the mystery. It's simply the source of Uberwald's most coveted export, fat, which has a trivial bearing on the plot. Pratchett, or perhaps an editor, was capitalizing on the then-recent fame of a Luc Besson movie. Had he waited a few years, I imagine he'd have chosen Game of Scones. After all, the missing item is a petrified scone that serves as the dwarf king's seat.
That gets to the primary theme of this volume: the curiosity of tradition. Some dwarfs, especially in Ankh-Morpork, are relatively progressive, but the staunch purists will stop at nothing to keep the old ways, no matter how silly to outsiders. One dwarf who comes to Uberwald with Vimes, Corporal Littlebottom, stands out for dressing femininely instead of looking indistinguishable from the men. (My personal favorite Vimes companion is Detritus, a troll from the "Speak softly and carry a big crossbow" school of diplomacy, who gets smarter with the winter chill.)
A subplot involves the usually too by-the-book Captain Carrot (not the Zoo Crew guy) abandoning his post to follow his lycanthropic girlfriend, Angua, who has reason to believe that her family is behind the latest crimes. Carrot enlists the reluctant help of Gaspode, the only known talking dog, to track her. Angua is both frustrated at Carrot's foolhardiness and ever more in love with him. She touches on another theme, illustrated by werewolves in general: the inconvenience of living between two worlds.
With both Vimes and Carrot gone, Sergeant Fred Colon becomes captain pro tem of the City Watch. If you combined Homer Simpson with Commander Queeg, you wouldn't be far off. So insufferable is his "leadership" that Sergeant Nobbs founds a union, albeit without much more success.
This volume has the strongest female presence this side of Wyrd Sisters, if not more. In addition to the aforementioned Littlebottom and Angua, we have Lady Sybil, Vimes' lovably dominant wife, who asserts that this mission is just the "break" he needed; Lady Margolotta, a vampire who no longer sucks blood but plays more than one side; the Baroness of Uberwald, Angua's mother, not as feral as the Baron or their son but perhaps overly tolerant of them; and...well, let's just repeat that it's hard to know with dwarfs.
As a mystery, the story's not great. I never entirely made sense of it, nor am I sure we're supposed to. Well, Vimes is more cop than tec anyway. (Hope you don't assume the worst about him for that.)
As an adventure, it's more exciting than I recall other Discworld entries being. More violent? Not sure. There is something of a heroic death for a change. Speaking of which, Death the personification just barely appears. I think Pratchett kinda phased him out after a while.
As a comedy, it's about par for the course. I appreciate that it's neither overly wacky nor prone to emotional whiplash, unless I've just gotten used to the Pratchett rhythm. Doesn't seem too vulgar either, tho a screen adaptation would have to reckon with werewolf nudity.
Heartwarming? A smidgen. Pratchett was getting better at balancing his pessimism and optimism. Ankh-Morpork almost sounds like home now.
I hope to have a shorter wait before another Discworld volume. In the meantime, given how long it's been since my last novel written by a woman, I've picked up Marge Piercy's Woman on the Edge of Time.
By this time, Commander Sam Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch is also a duke. As such, he is ordered by Lord Vetinari to become a temporary ambassador to Uberwald, home to many dwarfs, werewolves, and vampires (oddly enough, he gets the least amount of trouble from that last group), for a trade deal. I suspect that Vetinari has more than trade in mind, because Vimes is accompanied by a shadily talented figure and sees a higher priority for which he is more clearly suited: solving a mystery involving a stolen artifact and a series of murders, both in Ankh-Morpork and in Uberwald. Sure, untimely death is hardly uncommon in either place, but this case affects matters of leadership and could lead to war -- undoubtedly someone's goal.
I previously complained about Harper Collins giving away too much on the jacket; this time it outright lies. The titular elephant (fifth in relation to the four on which Discworld spins) is not at the heart of the mystery. It's simply the source of Uberwald's most coveted export, fat, which has a trivial bearing on the plot. Pratchett, or perhaps an editor, was capitalizing on the then-recent fame of a Luc Besson movie. Had he waited a few years, I imagine he'd have chosen Game of Scones. After all, the missing item is a petrified scone that serves as the dwarf king's seat.
That gets to the primary theme of this volume: the curiosity of tradition. Some dwarfs, especially in Ankh-Morpork, are relatively progressive, but the staunch purists will stop at nothing to keep the old ways, no matter how silly to outsiders. One dwarf who comes to Uberwald with Vimes, Corporal Littlebottom, stands out for dressing femininely instead of looking indistinguishable from the men. (My personal favorite Vimes companion is Detritus, a troll from the "Speak softly and carry a big crossbow" school of diplomacy, who gets smarter with the winter chill.)
A subplot involves the usually too by-the-book Captain Carrot (not the Zoo Crew guy) abandoning his post to follow his lycanthropic girlfriend, Angua, who has reason to believe that her family is behind the latest crimes. Carrot enlists the reluctant help of Gaspode, the only known talking dog, to track her. Angua is both frustrated at Carrot's foolhardiness and ever more in love with him. She touches on another theme, illustrated by werewolves in general: the inconvenience of living between two worlds.
With both Vimes and Carrot gone, Sergeant Fred Colon becomes captain pro tem of the City Watch. If you combined Homer Simpson with Commander Queeg, you wouldn't be far off. So insufferable is his "leadership" that Sergeant Nobbs founds a union, albeit without much more success.
This volume has the strongest female presence this side of Wyrd Sisters, if not more. In addition to the aforementioned Littlebottom and Angua, we have Lady Sybil, Vimes' lovably dominant wife, who asserts that this mission is just the "break" he needed; Lady Margolotta, a vampire who no longer sucks blood but plays more than one side; the Baroness of Uberwald, Angua's mother, not as feral as the Baron or their son but perhaps overly tolerant of them; and...well, let's just repeat that it's hard to know with dwarfs.
As a mystery, the story's not great. I never entirely made sense of it, nor am I sure we're supposed to. Well, Vimes is more cop than tec anyway. (Hope you don't assume the worst about him for that.)
As an adventure, it's more exciting than I recall other Discworld entries being. More violent? Not sure. There is something of a heroic death for a change. Speaking of which, Death the personification just barely appears. I think Pratchett kinda phased him out after a while.
As a comedy, it's about par for the course. I appreciate that it's neither overly wacky nor prone to emotional whiplash, unless I've just gotten used to the Pratchett rhythm. Doesn't seem too vulgar either, tho a screen adaptation would have to reckon with werewolf nudity.
Heartwarming? A smidgen. Pratchett was getting better at balancing his pessimism and optimism. Ankh-Morpork almost sounds like home now.
I hope to have a shorter wait before another Discworld volume. In the meantime, given how long it's been since my last novel written by a woman, I've picked up Marge Piercy's Woman on the Edge of Time.