Grab Your Socks
Monstrous Regiment is Terry Pratchett's 29th novel set in Discworld, a world just
enough like ours to be uncomfortable. Fans of the series know that Pratchett dollops out healthy
doses of satire and social commentary, all delivered via wonderful stories and characters real
enough to make us care. If you've never read a Discworld novel before, this one is as good a
place to start as any, since it presents a new cast of characters and doesn't require a Discworld
primer before you dive in.
The main theme Pratchett tackles this time around is war, in all its glorious vagaries and
inconsistencies. Along the way he deals with women in the military, religion, and (as usual) the
ever-present bureaucracy.
Polly Perks is a girl searching for her brother, who has gone missing on the front lines for his
native Borogravia. Even though women aren't technically allowed in the army, Polly manages to
sneak by with a new haircut and a well-placed pair of socks. The fact that the army has been
reduced to recruiting vampires, trolls, and zombies is an indication that Borogravia may not be
doing as well in the war as all the propaganda says.
The Borogravians' adherence to a strict and often bizarre canon of religious laws passed down
from their god Nugan, who may or may not be dead, compounds the issues of war. The Duchess,
once the ruler of their country, has not been heard from in years and so has been promoted to the
status of a deity and figurative leader of the Borogravian army. Of course, said army is trapped in
a position where it can't win but won't back down, and the Duchess doesn't seem overly
concerned.
There may not be a lot of subtlety here, but much of the book is more than one-dimensional. I
thought at first that perhaps the issue of women in the military was passé -- surely the idea that
one gender is inherently better at certain tasks than the other is an old and tired one, one we've all
moved past. Then I told my uncle George in western Pennsylvania about the plot of
Monstrous Regiment and he spouted off something about liberal pinko Commie crap and
the superiority of men in all matters martial. My aunt Francine snorted and said George was full
of crap, then shooed him out of the kitchen because men have no idea how to cook or clean up
after themselves.
Of course, the title for this book comes from a 16th century misogynist pamphlet written by John
Knox, arguing (surprisingly enough) that women should not be in positions of authority,
including the military. Many of his arguments were based on religion -- namely Christianity. In
one way, it is almost awe-inspiring to realize that these issues were important hundreds of years
ago. In another way, it's discouraging to think this is all the farther we've gotten.
There were some editing issues in the review copy I received, which led me to wonder if perhaps
the publisher tried to push this book to market early enough to capture some of the publicity of
all the events in Iraq. If that is the case, I don't know that it's such a bad thing. By exploring
these issues through fiction (and entertaining fiction at that), Pratchett achieves something that
all the talking heads and chest-beaters on TV can't. He makes you think. You may not agree with
all his arguments, but later you realize you're thinking about why you don't. The story is always
at the forefront, fooling you into thinking you're just reading a good yarn, and Pratchett manages
to walk right on the edge of proselytizing without ever quite crossing over. The characters
behave realistically, and every idea is presented through that filter, so you don't ever feel like
Pratchett's wagging his finger at you and telling you what to think.
As he does in all the Discworld novels, Pratchett skewers bureaucracy. Having worked for a
short period of time in state government, I find the passages on endless paperwork and mindless
rules more frightening than funny, because they run so close to the truth. I doubt Pratchett will
be able to effect much change in this area, but maybe if people keep pointing out the absurdities
inherent to the system we can at least slow the decay.
Pratchett's greatest strength is the fact that he doesn't ever give a clear-cut solution to the
problems he deals with. He points out many of the fallacies of war: patriotism versus realism, the
failings of halfhearted diplomatic efforts, and the fact that the enemy is not always evil incarnate.
War is hell, yes, but there is no tidy "it can all be fixed by a little love" twist here. At first, it also
appears that Pratchett will lambaste religion, but by the end of the book he's given some real
pause for reflection on the difference between religious fanaticism and faith. The ending of the
book is no fairy tale or happily ever after schmaltz. Pratchett concludes that people are people,
and there is no magic cure for human stupidity. Discworld, it seems, isn't so different from the
real world after all.
— 21 January 2004
