Terry Pratchett, the prolific author of the Discworld series (and many other books) passed away this year at the age of 66. Growing up as an atheist, his books offered me some of the strongest, most beautiful visions of living morally, and now that I’m a Catholic, I still love to return to them for their heart, as well as their humor.
Pratchett’s Discworld is indeed flat, carried by four elephants on the back of a turtle, but the people (and dwarves and trolls and werewolves and vampires and whatever the proper term for Corporal Nobby Nobs is) who inhabit it are enough like us that their choices and struggles can light our way.
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