Ng gur raq bs Ybeqf naq Ynqvrf, Tenaal gnhagrq gur Dhrra bs gur Ryirf gung, sbe gur pevzr bs nohfvat fgbevrf gb znxr gurve zvfpuvrs, gung fur, Tenaal, jnf tbaan svk gurve yvggyr erq jntba ohg tbbq. V guvax vg jnf zragvbarq fur unq n gnyx jvgu Ujry gur cynljevtug qjnes, nobhg ubj orfg gb jevgr qbja rirelguvat gung unq unccrarq. Sbe perngherf jub qrcraq fb zhpu ba gur cbjre bs fgbevrf, gung jnf cebonoyl n qrovyvgngvat oybj gb gurve cbjre nf n guerng. Naq gung jnf orsber gurl tbg orng ol Evaprjvaq va Fpvrapr bs Qvfpjbeyq VV, juvpu unq gb qb n ahzore ba gurve cbjre gbb. Vg unf orra qbjauvyy rire fvapr.
Tenaal fhofvqrq tengrshyyl ba gb n ebpx, ure unaqf
fgvyy gvrq oruvaq ure.
“Gung’f gur guvat nobhg jvgpupensg,” fur fnvq. “Vg qbrfa’g rknpgyl xrrc lbh
lbhat, ohg lbh qb fgnl byq sbe ybatre. Jurernf lbh, bs pbhefr, qb abg ntr,” fur
“Vaqrrq, jr qb abg.”
“Ohg V fhfcrpg lbh znl or pncnoyr bs orvat erqhprq.”
Gur Dhrra’f fzvyr qvqa’g inavfu, ohg vg qvq serrmr, nf fzvyrf qb jura gurve
bjare vf abg pregnva nobhg jung unf whfg orra fnvq naq vfa’g fher jung gb fnl arkg.
“Lbh zrqqyrq va n cynl,” fnvq Tenaal. “V oryvrir lbh qba’g ernyvmr jung
lbh’ir qbar. Cynlf naq obbxf...lbh’ir tbg gb xrrc na rlr ba gur ohttref.
Gurl’yy ghea ba lbh. V zrna gb frr gung gurl qb.”
A point well made by Granny in The Sea and Little Fishes short story. Granny forgives everyone involved, but she never said nothing about forgetting:
""Still, we don't have to let it spoil everything," Granny said pleasantly. "Let's have the proper ending to the day, eh? Traditional, like. Roast potatoes and marshmallows and old stories round the fire. And forgiveness. And let's let bygones be bygones."
Nanny could feel the sudden relief spreading out like a fan. The witches seemed to come alive, at the breaking of the spell that had never actually been there in the first place. There was a general straightening up and the beginnings of a bustle as they headed for the saddlebags on their broomsticks.
"Mr Hopcroft gave me a whole sack of spuds," said Nanny, as conversation rose around them. "I'll go and drag 'em over. Can you get the fire lit, Esme?"
A sudden change in the air made her look up. Granny's eyes gleamed in the dusk. Nanny knew enough to fling herself to the ground. Granny Weatherwax's hand curved through the air like a comet and the spark flew out, crackling. The bonfire exploded. A blue-white flame shot up through the stacked branches and danced into the sky, etching shadows on the forest. It blew off hats and overturned tables and formed figures and castles and scenes from famous battles and joined hands and danced in a ring. It left a purple image on the eye that burned into the brain - And settled down, and was just a bonfire.
"I never said nothin' about forgettin'," said Granny."
After punishment must come rehabilitation. That is the hard bit, because it means you have to be nice to the person who hurt you. It is the most vital bit though.
And nobody says Roland has to forgive her, forgiveness is always a personal choice, but it isn't the same as mercy or rehabilitation or punishment. I think a lot of people get those mixed up.
It is odd that I can read about the events in this chapter, but I still cannot bring myself to read it directly. It has not happened, for me, and it shall not. For me Granny will always still be there and always going about her business, which is mostly minding other people's, and the world Pratchett created; the world that was my escape when things got too much to deal with in this one, is still there waiting for me in case I need it again. For me, as always, And The Adventure Continues...
I'd have read it sooner if vg unqa'g unq Tenaal'f qrngu va vg. V trg jul Cengpurgg qvq vg, ohg V'q engure unir pybfrq gur obbx (zrgncubevpnyyl fcrnxvat) jvgu ure fgvyy nyvir naq gur cebfcrpg bs nqiragherf hagbyq. V xabj, cnffvat gur ongba, naq fur jnf Greel'f nhgube snibhevgr naq nhgube ningne zber rira guna Ivzrf be Irgvanev, fb gurer vf n pregnva nccebcevngrarff va ure qrngu, ohg fgvyy... V'z n sna bs gur raq bs rcvfbqr erfrg ohggba va zl gi fubjf, jvgu ab tenaq svanyr rcvfbqrf rkprcg gubfr gung fnl "naq gur nqiragher pbagvahrf". V pna ernq erivrjf, ohg V pna'g ernq gur obbx be yvfgra gb gur ernqnybat frtzragf.
I know that makes no sense. But I just literally cannot.
Fun fact about tomatoes: The island of Surtsey off Iceland, which rose from the sea in volcanic eruptions over the years from 1963-1967, had its first plant sprout on it in 1969, and it was a tomato plant. This tomato plant puzzled scientists because they couldn't work out where it came from until one of the science team admitted to a covert call of nature they'd experienced on the island.
Even in The Fifth Elephant he gave Wolfgang a chance. He gave him every chance to be peacefully arrested, to prove that he was not an immediate and ongoing danger to himself and others before shooting off the flare. Even then Vimes didn't shoot the flare AT Wolfgang, he shot it near him (admittedly he was pretty sure he knew what would happen, but pretty sure isn't all the way sure). Vimes went above and beyond in giving him that chance, far beyond what anybody else would have reasonably called strictly necessary. And in Thud, even under the spell of a revenge demon, Vimes was resisting so hard that he almost tore his muscles loose from his own bones, it took Angua tackling him to stop it happening. And then the whole cemetery scene with Carcer. This just seemed so out of character for the man who had been through that.
Maybe this was History Monks again, cutting and pasting an earlier Vimes from before Guards Guards into the timestream.
Yes this is where the book, if you'll pardon the pun, goes seriously off the rails. This was where it became apparent that Pratchett couldn't manage to get his narrative from point A to point B with his usual skill. There were hints of it throughout the book so far, mutermuttermutterbloodyHarryKingmuttermumblemilleniumhandandshrimpmuttermutter, but this is where it really did all fall apart and I personally got the feeling this was Pratchett metaphorically throwing up his hands and going I've got to finish all these things for all these characters somehow. That is just me though and how it makes me feel.
Which is one of the very good reasons not to have elected prosecutors or judges, if you hand those positions directly to voters then you've handed them to the mob who will always push for greater and greater elements of revenge. Even victim impact statements, AFAIAC, should be kept out of the justice system.
On the subject of the bandits living in the countryside, an earlier and less rushed Pterry would have pointed out that people seldom live in such places voluntarily. That being shoved out there might be the results of policies which are piloted by the likes Vetinari and Harry King -oh, how I loathe that character and how we are supposed to uncritically think magnates like him are social blessings- and that resorting to eating sapient individuals as implied was a pretty big symptom of a broken system. In this they are just panto badguys though. It feels unconsidered.