The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents | ||||||||
Terry Pratchett | ||||||||
HarperCollins, 241 pages | ||||||||
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A review by William Thompson
Ostensibly billed as a book for
children, ages 9 through 12, there really is little, in terms of writing style and story, to distinguish
the Amazing Maurice from previous Discworld novels. The cast is new and debatably
cuter: rats, a cat, and a couple of kids. Adults are rather silly. And, although taking
place in Überwald, not a troll, goblin, dwarf, vampire, werewolf, or Igor is in sight. Still, this seems in
most respects typical Terry fare.
In this retelling of the pied piper Discworld-style, the reader
encounters a travelling menagerie of rats led by a cat that have
accidentally gained human intelligence by eating the refuse dumped
outside Unseen University (well, the cat has come about his abilities
differently, but that's a story best left unspoken).
Their new-found reasoning and speech outweighing past instincts and traditional
behaviour, they have banded together to make their way through the world by, suitably enough, scamming
Discworld's human inhabitants. Having enlisted the aid of a quiet and unassuming kid named
Keith, this unlikely troupe have been combing the countryside, infesting towns with sudden plagues of rats
that Keith, appearing conveniently at hand, is fortuitously ready to rescue in his guise of pied
piper. This cooperative effort has made all -- rats, cat and kid -- quite wealthy, and as Maurice is
quick to explain, really doesn't represent theft or dishonesty, as their sleight of tail gains come
from "gov-ern-ment money ... trickery [being] what humans are all about," people "so keen
on tricking one another all the time that they elect governments to do it for them." Maurice and
his band of rodents give a town's residents tangible "value for money," with all participants
pleased and satisfied with the results. Through the eyes of a cat, criminal intent or ethics is a
matter of perception: can't call it a crime if the victims acquiesce and participate in the theft.
But the rats have begun to develop a social conscience, as well as national aspirations, nurtured by the wisdom
of a human book they have come upon, Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure, whose teachings and examples are
gradually being divined and interpreted by a blind, ratty prophet and his
disciple. Starting to ascertain that there may be more to a rat's
existence than simply scouring for food amongst human garbage, living in sewers or getting back at
humanity for generations of traps, poisons, and persecution by widdling in the cream or duping them in
their present, possibly publicly-sanctioned confidence game -- a vague musing upon something after
death; whispered rumours of maybe the existence of a Big Rat Deep Under the Ground -- they decide that
after one more town, they will abandon their part in the pied piper caper, to strike out and establish
somewhere their own ratty kingdom. Yet, as happens in stories with an agreement "to one more time,"
the town chosen for their final performance, Bad Blintz, ends up posing challenges and dangers that threaten
the very existence of an emerging rodent consciousness.
As with the best Discworld novels, Pratchett uses his Monty Pythonesque approach to fantasy
to question and throw barbs both humorous and pointed at human institutions and behaviour, in this case,
most tellingly perhaps, in the garb of sentient rats, whose emerging ability for independent thought is
constantly threatened by the more primal and fear-inspired instincts of the mob, as well as by the
seductions of religion or the security and promise offered by uniting within a homogeneous social
order. Nor is the author's choice of narrative simply a reflection of his desire to draw upon
familiar folklore for material, but instead, largely through the delightful observations of
life-as-a-story found in the character of Malicia Grimm, or the running commentary sifted from a
fictional bedtime tale, a look at the questionable way we inculcate our children with romanticized
and often nonsensical notions of life, perceptions of which do not always disappear as we grow into
adulthood, a tendency to mythologize or fictionalize our lives and the world persisting long after
we've laid the fairy tales of childhood aside. And within this insight can be seen a criticism
not only of folklore, but of the fantasy genre itself.
Much of this is likely to elude the average 9- or 12-year-old (those of you believing you have potential
Mensa aspirants on your hands can ignore the caution). This is not to say that older children may not
enjoy this title, but that it seems more directed at the usual or potential Discworld reader than specifically
written with a child in mind, regardless of any relevance they may possess to the themes contained within
the story. This, I suspect, is more due to Pratchett being Pratchett than any intention to mislead
the reader, and fans of the series, as well as the unknowing that should be, will gladly welcome this
newest addition to the Discworld saga. And while perhaps not among his best efforts,
there is much thought here hidden amongst the comedy, and the humour contains all the vitality, whimsicality
and at times acerbic wit that the author's readers have come to expect, along with a few notable and
new denizens for Discworld that I hope will make reappearances (and yes, Death has a cameo,
along with his ratty assistant). Overall, a pleasant outing and a satisfying supplement to
Pratchett's ongoing wink and a nod to parables. Better that than to only "think of the future
as a big trap with no cheese."
William Thompson is a writer of speculative fiction, as yet unpublished, although he remains hopeful. In addition to pursuing his writing, he is in the degree program in information science at Indiana University. |
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