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Like Christmas in July, A Year on Discworld: Book 20— Hogfather
In a quest to escape the reality of 2020 and recapture my youth, I’ve set myself the goal of reading all 41 Discworld novels in one year. Join me on this voyage of discovery which definitely isn’t a complete waste of time. Mild spoilers, probably.
So far as I know, Hogfather is the closest anyone has gotten to fictionalising the laughable War on Christmas.
The Assassin’s Guild is given a contract on “The Fat Man” aka The Hogfather aka the Discworld equivalent of Father Christmas. Death steps into the role for one Hogswatch night to give his granddaughter, Susan Sto Helit, a chance to reluctantly save the day. It’s the Ur-Pratchett plot, his metaphysical mono-myth — what we believe in, or in this case, don’t believe in, can save or doom the world.
It’s not exactly original, but neither is doing a Christmas themed story. Reading it July is an odd experience however and one I would recommend if, to paraphrase Jeremy Usborne, like me, you are a Christmasist.
A Christmasist is not de facto a Christian. In fact, the two might be incompatible belief systems. To me a Christmasist, and I’m happy for any Peep…
