The Discworld Evolution of Granny Weatherwax

No Discworld fan will need telling who Granny Weatherwax is.  She strides from the pages with such force that you almost expect her to step out of them.

I've known real world witches half mindful of what she would think of their actions. What would Granny Weatherwax do is an unspoken, unacknowledged rule of thumb for all Wiccan etiquette.  She's the coven leader that we wish that we had, but are extremely grateful that we don't.

Very much a local witch, Granny Weatherwax is never comfortable on the few occasions when she's forced outside the borders of Lancre.  Though her reputation precedes her across the Disc, and throughout other races.

Hidden deep beneath the ground, in warrens of mines, the dwarves still know her enough to have a name for her.  It's K'ez'rek d'b'duz, which translates as 'Go Around the Other Side of the Mountain'.  Similarly, the trolls call her Aaoograha hoa ('She Who Must Be Avoided').  She seems quite pleased about this.

However, such terms should not be interpreted to mean that Granny Weatherwax is an evil witch. Quite the reverse in fact.  She does all of those jobs which other people wish would just go away.

She attends to people on their death beds, making them comfortable and ensuring that they cross to the other side without trouble.  She will take on Death itself (and win), if things don't go according to plan.

She's there at the difficult births.  She's the one who makes heart-breaking decisions, that others couldn't live with themselves if they had to make.

Granny Weatherwax does what needs to be done, because it's Right to do so.  (The capital R is deliberate there.)  She is the Crone Goddess personified, though she'd Look At You if you ever said that in her presence.

And you really wouldn't want that.

If you're going to have a magical girl denied access to wizardry, then you need somewhere else to direct her. 

Traditionally female mystics in literature have become priestesses or witches.  In the Discworld universe, the latter is the most appropriate.

Enter Granny Weatherwax.  She's the archetypal story-book witch.  She lives alone in a cottage, in the heart of the forest. She has a pointed hat and wears black. She's both feared and respected by all in the vicinity.

In many ways, this was her only reason to be here. She is a witch, because the plot demanded one.  She exists solely to prove that Eskarina Smith is not a witch, but then her usefulness expands as the narrative goes on.

Equal Rites is one of Terry Pratchett's earliest novels.  It's only the third in the Discworld series, and so he's only just finding his groove. 

If this was all that he had done, we would be agreeing that it's a very good story and that's that. But it pales in comparison to his later output.  It's only retrospect which has lessened Equal Rites and Granny Weatherwax's characterization in particular.

You can see what she's going to be.  All of the elements are there.  But this embryonic first outing is like looking at an extremely good outline drawing in a sketchbook, rather than a fully developed oil painting framed in the National Gallery.

Yet there's power and cunning too.  When Granny Weatherwax takes on the most powerful living wizard, there's nothing to choose between them.  No suggestion that wizardry is better than witchcraft, nor vice versa.  It's all about a division of the sexes.

It's difficult at this stage to realize how distinctive and remarkable the character will become. That really begins with her next appearance.

The trouble with Equal Rites is that it had created a fish out of water in Granny Weatherwax.  It had done so before we'd actually fixed her on her own turf.

Wyrd Sisters rectifies that with aplomb.  Seeing her with other witches is like watching her fade into view.

As the narrative itself tells us: 'Witches are not by nature gregarious, at least with other witches, and they certainly don't have leaders.

Granny Weatherwax was the most highly-regarded of the leaders they didn't have.' (p8)

Her temperament bounces off the other two with delightful contrast. Her cunning and obstinacy no longer merely appears stereotypical of fairy-tale witches, but part of her character.

This isn't to say that Wyrd Sisters totally avoids archetypes. It's formed around them!  Magrat, Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax form the triple aspect of the Goddess.  They are the Three-in-One trinity of Maiden, Mother and Crone.

Furthermore, they each represent a stereotype of witches found in stories and real world society too. 

Magrat is somewhere between the fluffiest of New Age Wiccans and an occultist.  Nanny Ogg is the type of portly, 'would you like a nice juicy apple?', matronly witches, who turn up in the nicer fairy tales.  Granny Weatherwax retains her position as the 'evil hag', though it's difficult to actually point to true evil on her part.

Though we see more of what the character is, and will become, I still don't feel that Granny Weatherwax is fully grown into herself yet. 

She's knowledgeable without necessarily being wise.  She's stubborn without that being a huge rock of pride. She's practical without the whole craft of Headology really coming through. 

I feel that if Terry Pratchett had returned years later to rewrite this story, some of the details would have been all the richer for it.  Though it's still a wonderfully entertaining read!

Can't you just tell that Terry Pratchett was having fun here? 

The whole 'witches abroad' convention is supposed to mean that they're flying around on broomsticks, and dancing around fires on moorland.  He's got them off on a summer holiday instead, picking up tacky toy donkeys and getting ill off unfamiliar food.

As I mentioned with Wyrd Sisters, Granny Weatherwax seems to work best when she has other witches as her foil. Witches Abroad is a case in point. She's away from home and out of her comfort zone, but the presence of Magrat and Nanny Ogg make it all work beautifully.

Now when she's acting out of character, it's instantly noticeable by the reader. We get to share the joke and cringe at the image.  Now when she Looks At Someone, we get to smirk in delight, because she's on our side and we know what's coming.

Moreover, we get to see more of Granny Weatherwax in context, which sharpens her focus. When elements of her background are revealed, we also get a commentary from Nanny Ogg, who's known her for years.

The stereotypes are still in place, but each of the characters have chipped away with their roles. Granny Weatherwax's crone routine now feels more personal to her.  We've seen her from more angles. We not only know what she is, but where she's come from. We know what makes her tick.

It all helps to create a much more rounded figure, who is firmly becoming etched into our imaginations.  Not just a witch.  Not just a crone.  Granny Weatherwax.

Later on, borrowing is such a fundamental tool in Granny Weatherwax's arsenal, that it comes as surprise to realize it only began here.

On a related matter, this is also the first appearance of a certain notice, which will be forever linked with the Lancre crone.

'Granny Weatherwax was stretched rigid on her bed. Her face was grey, her skin was cold.

People had discovered her like this before, and it always caused embarrassment.  So now she reassured visitors but tempted fate by always holding, in her rigid hands, a small handwritten sign which read:

I ATE'NT DEAD.' (p71-72)

Borrowing is when Granny's mind (or soul, or essence, or spirit, however you want to view it) hitches a ride behind that of another creature.  It's usually woodland animals or birds, though, as the series progresses, her astral plane voyages become even more challenging.

From these disparate points of view, she can see far more than she could in her own body. There are aerial vistas of Lancre, through the eyes of eagles. There are snapshots of wild feeling, through the instincts of hares and foxes.  She can witness things that would never have occurred, if people had known she was watching.

There is also a little more about her past, not least the fact that she had once been a teenager.  That should have been obvious, but she's so firmly entrenched as an older woman (as opposed to merely old), that seeing her in her youth is startling. 

She had love interests!  And the softer feeling that implies love letters still hidden away in her meager box of possessions.  Plus she had the same steely force of character back then too.

Though more fully developed than ever before, Granny Weatherwax in Lords and Ladies has now picked up many of the attributes synonymous with her.  There is also more here to humanize her.  We can practically touch her, as a woman who could be living close by. Though we may give her a wide berth if she did.

It's been a bit of a journey from the sketchy image in Equal Rites.

'Nanny Ogg stared. She'd seen many strange things in her life, some of them twice. She'd seen elves and walking stones and the shoeing of a unicorn. She'd had a farmhouse dropped on her head. But she'd never seen Granny Weatherwax in rouge.' (p166)

Granny Weatherwax had always been portrayed as clever.  Not necessarily in an academic way - there's little evidence that she went to school - but worldly wise and knowing the ways in which the universe worked. 

On Discworld, that naturally included being able to lever between the magical cracks to rearrange how the universe worked.

But Maskerade progresses that theme into depicting Granny Weatherwax as being a genius. There's no flag-waving about it.  No-one runs in to do a quick IQ test.  But it's strongly implied in how bored she gets when there's nothing to do.

Pursuing Agnes Nitt, first across Lancre and then into Ankh-Morpork itself, becomes Nanny Ogg's way of saving Granny Weatherwax's sanity.  She's been too depressed.  She needs some travel and a challenge, or else she really could disappear into some creature's mind and never come back.

Or worse, she could 'go to the bad', and become the sort of witch killed by small children in their own ovens.

The big city of Ankh-Morpork is the perfect place to challenge Granny Weatherwax. Particularly when its opera house has a murderous ghost and a mystery to unpick.

Until now, Headology has been mentioned now and again, but this is the story where it begins to develop into Granny Weatherwax's modus operandi.  Headology could be seen as pragmatism wrapped up in theater; or sleight of hand trickery.  It's wrapping the kernel of good up into a paste that other people will swallow.

It works much better than magic, especially when Granny Weatherwax is behind it.

We see her at the closest to bad that she'll ever get, vengeful, mean and quietly furious. It's delicious storytelling!  I mean, who can forget the moment when a thuggish bunch of muggers decide to attack Granny Weatherwax and Mrs Plinge?

'"We can't let these poor men bleed to death now, can we, even if they do try to rob old ladies..."

Mrs Plinge looked horrified.

"We've got to be charitable, Mrs Plinge."  Granny insisted... The needle gleamed in the moonlight. His round, frightened eyes focused on it, and then on Granny's face. He whimpered. His shoulderblades tried to dig him into the cobbles.

It was perhaps as well that no one else could see Granny's face in the shadows. "Let's do some good," she said.'

What Maskerade does is show us just how close Granny Weatherwax always was to becoming that stereotypical evil witch.  It was her own force of personality which stopped it.  (Which possibly showed where her plans and Terry Pratchett's own plans diverged.)

We've seen several shades of Granny Weatherwax by now.  We know so much about her that there is a certain expectation. 

After Maskerade, we've also seen her darker side, so we know that crossing her might not even have safe boundaries.  But lurking in the background is that softer side too, as shown in Lords and Ladies.

Count de Magpyr and his blood-sucking family are not nice creatures. They play with their prey and get bored in the process. His daughter has her very own torture chamber.

They can hypnotize with a look. They can hold humans in thrall.  They can, and frequently do, kill without challenge.

Nevertheless, as the head vampire challenges the witches, you can almost hear the collective gasp of anticipation.  It's not just coming from the onlookers in Lancre, but from the readership too!  Our eyes turn en masse to see how Granny Weatherwax will utterly annihilate him.

It's tempting, on the surface, to simply see Carpe Jugulum as Lords and Ladies part two. The monsters have changed, but it's still the same basic set up.  Something supernatural has invaded Lancre. Game on.

But it's a very different story and much of that is in the response of Granny Weatherwax.  It's not just standing firm and being cunning about it. She has to really reach inside herself and react accordingly.

It's not just her reputation at stake, as with Wyrd Sisters. It's her own immortal soul.  Plus everyone is relying on her and that sort of pressure can get to an old lady, even if she is Esmeralda Weatherwax.

Terry Pratchett had written enough of her by now to really let her take the lead. The characterization becomes many layers of the Weatherwax personality.  She uses everything that she has against the intruders, but mostly it's her own inflexible will and the importance of how others view her.

For the first time, we are seeing the Wiccan Rede hinted at here: An it harm none do what ye will. Will being a force of mind, rather than merely doing what you want.  It's setting us up for the whole Tiffany Aching story arc.

There is a definite sense that Terry Pratchett was comfortable with the character of Granny Weatherwax by now. 

In this short tale, he could afford to subject her to the utmost scrutiny; and half the fun is in knowing full well that the readers are thinking along the same lines as every witch in the story. Apart, of course, from Granny herself, who knows precisely what she's up to.

The plot itself is amusing and entertaining, with that undercurrent of a more serious message, which is what is done so brilliantly in any Discworld novel.  But another way of viewing The Sea and the Little Fishes is as a spotlight on Granny Weatherwax.

We view her through the eyes of not just the usual witches, but hundreds of them, from all over the Ramtops and down onto the plains.  We get further testimonies from the villagers in and around Lancre.  We get Nanny Ogg to quantify all that we hear.

There is a strong realism coming into play, in the politics, psychology and sociology of witchcraft now.  That's not a word that's usually associated with Discworld. It makes me wonder where Terry Pratchett found his inspiration here, though I have my own private suspicions on that score.

Part of this story is a scathing indictment of the Witchier Than Thou types, who try to direct companies of witches.  The rest is a sweet tour de force surrounding Granny Weatherwax and her terrifying lessons in giving people precisely what they ask for.

There's nothing really new to be learned about her, which isn't implied in other storylines scattered throughout the Discworld series.  But it's all in one place and it's a delicious read, especially when you've met real world Pagans just like Lettice Earwig.

Discworld novels have always been good for all ages.  They're layered in such a way that you get something out of them depending upon your maturity.  Or state of mind. Or life experience.  That's why I can read them over and over again, without ever being bored.

But the Tiffany Aching books are slightly different.  Terry Pratchett purposefully targeted a younger readership here.  They are recommended for age thirteen and over.  Their protagonist is a young girl.

There's more than that, though the timing is coincidental.

Until now, the author had been mining literary conventions.  Real life witchcraft had only taken a placing glance in the form of Magrat's New Age approach.  But by the time he was writing the Tiffany Aching book, Terry Pratchett had been exposed to Wicca.

These novels aren't about Wicca.  Granny Weatherwax doesn't suddenly become a high priestess.  Nor are they promoting Wicca.  But the influence is very strong.

As a Wiccan high priestess myself, I was once asked the best book for someone wishing to gain an oversight into my religion.  I could have chosen from any one of millions of Wiccan guides.  I opted for A Hat Full of Sky.

It tells about Wicca in the same way as the Narnia Chronicles portray Christianity.  I recognize it. I've been there, thought that, experienced the other.  There might not have been some of the Otherworldly creatures that Tiffany encounters (not often, anyway), but the voice of Granny Weatherwax feels more Wiccan than anything gone before; all without her actually becoming one.

Granny Weatherwax is not officially Tiffany Aching's mentor.  But she recognizes a little bit of herself, as a young girl, in the fledgling witch.

Plus there's the fact that Tiffany can't seem to avoid upsetting or accidentally challenging no end of Otherworldly Beings.  Granny has to step in as a matter of necessity.

By the time we arrive at these books, Terry Pratchett and Granny Weatherwax know each other very well.  So do the readers.  She marches fully formed into the narrative; and can afford to remain a cameo, if need be.

This is the first time that we encounter Granny Weatherwax as a teacher.  Oh!  She's taught people a lesson or two from the beginning, but even with Eskarina Smith, there wasn't this exchange of information.

As she tutors Tiffany, she tutors us.  We can see into the mind of the most powerful witch in Discworld; one who is no longer bored, so doesn't risk going to the bad; and one who appears in context with a host of other witches.

This was the Granny Weatherwax that we were all waiting for.  In these books, she becomes the legend that Discworld fans knew that she would become.

There's wisdom there.  True wisdom.  And things which will have you pondering long after the book is closed.

(And, from a real life Wiccan, it's as pure and hilarious a satire on my religion as anything I've ever had the privilege to read.)