(The Dark Side of the Sun)
The above scene could be from any episode of the original Star Trek, another hit 1960s science fiction show of Pratchett’s acquaintance. It acts as both a parody and a tribute to genre fiction past. He would do this time and time again in the Discworld series to a lesser or greater extent.
Personally, I believe Pratchett sums up his belief in God (or, rather, lack of it), the wider universe and the ‘quest’ of mankind in one specific quote from The Dark Side of the Sun:
‘Understanding is the first step towards control. We now understand probability.
If we control it every man will be a magician. Let us then hope that this will not come to pass. For our universe is a fragile house of atoms, held together by the weak mortar of cause and effect. One magician would be two too many.’
Charles Sub-Lunar, Cry Continuum
(The Dark Side of the Sun)
Towards the end of The Dark Side of the Sun, Pratchett discusses the omnipresence of God, and the possibility of man actually finding Him. He then explains that if a ‘Director of the Universe’ were actually found it would cause chaos on Earth, because: ‘He would have ceased to become a matter of comforting Belief but a matter of fact.’ Pratchett goes further and explains that mankind ‘can’t live and know of such greatness’, and he makes a very good point here. Mankind’s lust for knowledge and power would destroy itself, because the passion and panic of discovering God would cause a conflict with all variations of religion preached around the planet. (A good old conflict of interests, but who would come out on top?)
‘Next to her the electric toad flopped and rustled in its box; she wondered what it “ate”… Artificial flies, she decided.’
Philip K Dick (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?)
There are many controlling robots and sub-levels of robot in The Dark Side of the Sun, and when one sees metallic insects, one cannot but think of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? The questioning of one’s beliefs displayed by Pratchett in his first science fiction novel is not dissimilar to the paranoia and desires and self-analysis displayed in Philip K Dick’s novel. Not that I’m suggesting that Pratchett copied the style in any way; what it illustrates is Pratchett’s ability to question the existence of a supreme being and then discuss the consequences of being confronted with Him, which was done so brilliantly by Arthur C Clarke in Childhood’s End when faced by an alien race resembling the Devil.
‘There was no mistake. The leathery wings, the little horns, the barbed tail – all were there. The most terrible of all legends had come to life, out of the unknown past. Yet now it stood smiling, in ebon majesty, and with a human child resting trustfully on either arm.’
Arthur C Clarke (Childhood’s End)
There are some nice pieces within The Dark Side of the Sun, but its heart and soul are embedded too far in the fantasy genre for it to have substance as a great science fiction novel. What it is – and where it has importance – is an exercise in what the Discworld novels won’t become. Pratchett doesn’t seem comfortable with the constraints of the science fiction novel, and he discovered that through writing this book. There are Discworld moments, such as the first mention of Hogswatch, and one can detect a fantasy novel screaming to come out, but it would take another book for Pratchett to realise that science fiction was not his genre. That would come five years later, in the more complete Strata (1981).
Strata is an intriguing book for anyone wishing to analyse Pratchett’s life and works, because a) it predicts Discworld more fully than The Carpet People, and b) it says a little about the thinly documented job he was doing at the time.
In 1980 Pratchett quit journalism and joined the Central Electricity Generating Board, becoming press officer for three (or four, according to Pratchett’s friend Sam Farr) nuclear power stations. He has notoriously said that he would write a book about his experiences if he thought anyone would actually believe them. Indeed, there are rumours of a character he calls Fred, who once tipped nuclear waste down the toilet and caused all sorts of problems until someone brave enough – or experienced enough – was found to clear out the plant’s septic tank. If indeed this story is true – and it probably vindicates Pratchett’s fears that no one would believe the truth if he told it – it could have repercussions in the public arena as to how safe our nuclear power stations are. Pratchett spent eight years in the job (until 1987), when he suddenly realised that he was making more money from his Discworld novels than as a press officer.
In an online talk with the author (‘Book World’, The Washington Post), Pratchett summarised his time at the Central Electricity Generating Board: ‘Let us be clear that I was no nuclear physicist. I was a press officer for a whole slew of power stations, but it was the three nuclear sites that always got the public interest. I fear many things more than I do nuclear power, at least in the hands of the Western democracies. I was once berated by a citizen who was worried about the existence of a power plant some 30 miles from where he lived. He lived extremely close to an automobile tyre manufacturing company and I wondered if he would sleep safe in his bed if he knew all the chemicals that they used. This all segues into the global warming debate, but surely in essence it is quite simple. Either we really are Homo sapiens, in which case we should be able to think, talk and negotiate ourselves out of the problem, or we are simply still Pan narrans, the storytelling chimpanzee. It’s time for us to use our big brains.’
So, with this in mind, let us now take a look at Pratchett’s second – and final – science fiction novel. Strata was published in June 1981 in a print run of 3,001 copies: 2,000 copies being issued in the United States by St Martin’s Press and 1,001 in Britain under the Colin Smythe imprint. Of these, 850 copies were sold to the Readers’ Union, so the intentions for the book were modest.
Strata opens with a man and a woman being caught by their corporation for placing a plesiosaur in the wrong stratum holding a placard, which reads ‘End Nuclear Testing Now’. Clearly, the new job was giving Pratchett some inspiration. But Strata is a more important novel than that. It is a book of discovery – for Pratchett. It’s as though you are allowed to glimpse the Eureka moment of the creation of the Discworld series.
To begin with, Strata is influenced by the great NEL science fiction paperback onslaught of the 1970s and early 1980s. You can witness influences from Heinlein, Van Vogt and Clarke, to name but three, but then the book takes a sharp turn. A Discworld with 35,000-mile-long waterfalls around it, where the sea literally falls over the edges, a bar called the Broken Drum, a whimsical magic purse that makes one think of the walking Luggage (in the very next novel) – there are many comparisons to be made, but then everything suddenly falls into place. This is due to the arrival of the character called Sphandor, who speaks in capital letters, just like Death will throughout the Discworld series. When Sphandor arrives, the banter, the fun, the effortless sending characters on their merry way to risk life and limb to do their best (or worst) are there, almost completely out of the blue.
Strata is largely overlooked, and that’s a great shame. Just as albums such as The Man Who Sold the World and Born to Run shaped the future of rock ‘n’ roll for Bowie and Springsteen, Strata shaped the future for Terry Pratchett and ultimately the fantasy genre. It is a science fiction novel that changes genres halfway through, which is an interesting concept.
I never find the use of swearing valid in a Terry Pratchett novel, as it conflicts with the delicacy of the humour. There is a little of it in Strata along with a little homage to the great comedian and iconoclast Spike Milligan. When one of the characters says ‘We must handle this carefully’, Kin Arad (the main character) replies ‘I like the we.’ This pays homage to the opening page of Spike’s first war biography, Adolf Hitler: My Part in His Downfall – when the prime minister speaks on the radio and says: ‘As from 11 o’clock