Wintersmith: A Story of the Discworld by Terry Pratchett

From the Publisher

Tiffany Aching is a trainee witch — now working for the seriously scary Miss Treason. But when Tiffany witnesses the Dark Dance — the crossover from summer to winter — she does what no one has ever done before and leaps into the dance. Into the oldest story there ever is. And draws the attention of the wintersmith himself.

As Tiffany-shaped snowflakes hammer down on the land, can Tiffany deal with the consequences of her actions? Even with the help of Granny Weatherwax and the Nac Mac Feegle — the fightin’, thievin’ pictsies who are prepared to lay down their lives for their “big wee hag.”

Wintersmith is the third title in an exuberant series crackling with energy and humour. It follows The Wee Free Men.

The Washington Post - Elizabeth Ward

Pratchett sets this drama in a frozen landscape worthy of Hans Christian Andersen's Snow Queen or the White Witch of Narnia, "everything glittering like tinsel," but leavens the dread with his trademark quicksilver wit. The man never met a convention—be it witchery, mythology, education or language itself—that he couldn't have fun with…A Hat Full of Sky felt slack and, in parts, silly compared to The Wee Free Men, as if Pratchett had written it at half-throttle. With Wintersmith, he gets this bewitching series brilliantly back on track.

Publishers Weekly

It's back to Discworld for a new Tiffany Aching Adventure, Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett. In a starred review of The Wee Free Men, PW called the witch-in-training "funny, sassy and spirited." Here Tiffany unwittingly attracts the attention of the titular spirit of Winter when she interrupts the Dance of the Seasons-and must enlist the aid of the six-inch Wee Free Men to put Nature back in order. The publisher is simultaneously repackaging the first two paperbacks to tie into this third adventure: The Wee Free Men and A Hat Full of Sky, with the same ISBNs. Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

Children's Literature

Comedic little blue men better known as Nac Mac Fleegles assist Tiffany Arching, a thirteen year old witch-in-training, to make things right between the boy Winter, known as Wintersmith, and the Lady of Summer. Tiffany learns diplomacy from Granny Weatherwax, and she learns the secret of Boffo, that which makes a powerful witch, from Miss Treason. She assists other young witches in their learning and faces the boy Winter, who thinks he is in love with her because of her accidental interruption of the Dances of the Seasons. He tries to become human, but cannot. He acts like any other human boy smitten with first love, but goes back to his elemental ways when Roland, Tiffany's human young man, pays back a favor by rescuing the Summer Lady from the Underworld so that Tiffany can set the seasons right.

VOYA

Britain's second most popular--remember Rowling?--and certainly most prolific series author returns to the adventures of Tiffany Aching, apprentice witch from The Wee Free Men (HarperCollins, 2003/VOYA August 2003) and A Hat Full of Sky (2004/VOYA June 2004). Now thirteen, Tiffany is living with a 113-year-old witch called Miss Treason, who is blind but borrows other eyes (mouse, raven, Tiffany's) to see. Despite Miss Treason's reputation for extreme weirdness, Tiffany likes her and picks up a useful bit of witchcraft lore. For a witch, it is all about appearances, even appearances contrived with mail-ordered witch props. But then Tiffany foolishly joins a black Morris dance and attracts the elemental spirit of Winter. The infatuated Wintersmith quickly causes problems. Think Tiffany-shaped snowflakes and icebergs, not to mention quantities of snow. Miss Treason dies and Tiffany, still pursued by the Wintersmith, goes to live with Nanny Ogg, a witch with a past. Tagging along are the Feegles-blue, six-inch-high, tartan-wearing, hard-drinking pictsies happily dedicated to protecting Tiffany, particularly if it calls for a good fight. Ultimately the Feegles and a young hero called Rob go to the Underworld and rescue the imprisoned spirit of Summer, Winter's true consort, who replaces the Wintersmith, as summer inevitably replaces winter. Does it all make sense? Well, not exactly, but not necessarily either. Bits in the middle drag a little, but overall it is great fun-vintage Pratchett, in fact. Tiffany Aching fans will love the book, and newcomers to Pratchett will love it as well. In short, this book is not to be missed.

VOYA

Tiffany Aching, witch-in-training, serves her apprenticeship with Miss Treason, living in her cottage accompanied by the Nac Mac Feegles, the diminutive blue pictsies, who protect her. When Tiffany and Miss Treason attend an arcane moonlight Morris dance marking the change of the seasons, Miss Treason warns Tiffany not to speak or move. Entranced by the rhythm of the drums, Tiffany ignores her advice and jumps right in, attracting the affection of the orchestrator of winter itself, the Wintersmith, who mistakes her for the spirit of Summer. Tiffany-shaped snowflakes start falling, Tiffany-shaped icebergs appear, and bouquets of ice roses decorate the lawn. The cold wind whispers, "Be mine." Tiffany is flattered but frightened, having attracted the amorous attention of an elemental. The other witches attempt to protect her from the Wintersmith's advances, but none of them anticipate the depth of his affection until he plunges them into an intense and endless winter in an effort to win Tiffany's heart. The Nac Mac Feegles save the day, restoring "Summer" to her proper place, freeing Tiffany, and bringing spring at last. While the Nac Mac Feegles' brogue may be tedious for some young readers and the pace here is a bit slower than most Discworld novels, the spells and witchery are loads of fun, and as always, the text is crammed with puns, double entendre, and absurdity (like a naughty cheese named Horace). Liberally laced with wisdom and humor, this fanciful farce follows A Hat Full of Sky (HarperCollins, 2004/VOYA June 2004).

Paula Rohrlick - KLIATT

When young witch-in-training Tiffany Aching joins in the dance of the seasons, despite being told not to, she catches the eye of the Wintersmith, the spirit of winter, with potentially catastrophic consequences. It's flattering at first to have snowflakes created in your image, but it's quite another issue when winter never ends and the besotted Wintersmith is determined to make himself human and claim Tiffany as his bride. It takes the intervention of the Wee Free Men, tiny blue-skinned gnomes who live to fight, to help make the world right again. In the process, Tiffany learns more about the real responsibilities of being a witch, and the power of becoming a myth. Funny, wise, and suspenseful, this is yet another wonderful fantasy from the popular author of The Wee Free Men and A Hat Full of Sky, two other Tiffany Aching adventures set in Pratchett's Discworld universe, as well as many other delightful novels. For all libraries. (A Tiffany Aching Adventure.). KLIATT Codes: JSA*--Exceptional book, recommended for junior and senior high school students, advanced students, and adults. 2006, HarperCollins, 336p., $16.99 and $17.89. Ages 12 to adult.

School Library Journal

Gr 6 Up-Winter must die, and Summer must sink into the ground; it is all part of the Story, and Tiffany Aching has danced into the middle of it. On the last day of autumn, Tiffany travels to the woods to witness the Black Morris, the traditional dance of the gods heralding the arrival of winter. In a moment of heedless excitement, her rollicking feet draw her to the music, and she crashes headlong into the Wintersmith. He is fascinated by the girl and proceeds to "court" her in his own fashion-all the snowflakes are made in her image and giant Tiffany-shaped icebergs appear in the sea. Meanwhile, Tiffany begins to show characteristics of the goddess Summer-the touch of her bare feet makes things grow. All the attention from the Wintersmith would be quite flattering were it not for the deadly winter that threatens the shepherds of the Chalk. As the situation is very dangerous and death is certain, the Nac Mac Feegles (along with an especially lively cheese named Horace) are directly in the fray protecting their "big wee hag" along with Annagramma, Granny Weatherwax, Miss Tick, and other favorites from past adventures. All are skillfully characterized; even the Wintersmith elicits sympathy as he joyfully buries the world in snow in his attempt to win Tiffany. Replete with dry and intelligent humor, this latest in the series is sure to delight.-Heather M. Campbell, Philip S. Miller Library, Castle Rock, CO Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Crivens! When almost-13-year-old Tiffany Aching, apprentice witch, dances into the Dark Morris, she dances into one of the oldest stories of all-the endlessly repeating cycle of the seasons-and wins the heart of the Wintersmith. As the lovestruck god piles Tiffany-shaped snowflake onto Tiffany-shaped snowflake, winter threatens to choke the world, and naturally, it's up to Tiffany and the tiny and raucous Nac Mac Feegles to put the story to rights. Pratchett once again delivers a sidesplittingly funny adventure that overlays a deeply thoughtful inquiry into the nature of narrative and identity: how the stories we tell shape our understanding of ourselves and of the world we inhabit. This is what readers will understand with their Third Thoughts; their First Thoughts will delight in the return of Tiffany, the Feegles and the not-quite-hero Roland, and their Second Thoughts will revel in the homely details of the relationships among the witches and the people they serve. As Wee Billy Bigchin says, "A metaphor is a kind o' lie to help people understand what's true." This one is verra weel done indeed. (Fiction. 10+)

Product Details

• ISBN: 0641861818
  
• ISBN-13: 9780641861819
• Format: Hardcover, 336pp
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
• Pub. Date: September 2006
• Edition Description: Bargain
• Age Range: Young Adult
• Series: Tiffany Aching Series, #3

• Table of Contents
• Read an Excerpt
• Read a Sample Chapter

Table of Contents

Read an Excerpt

It had to be the wintersmith, Tiffany Aching told herself, standing in front of her father in the freezing farmhouse. She could feel it out there. This wasn't normal weather even for midwinter, and this was springtime. It was a challenge. Or perhaps it was just a game. It was hard to tell, with the wintersmith.

Only it can't be a game because the lambs are dying. I'm only just thirteen, and my father, and a lot of other people older than me, want me to do something. And I can't. The wintersmith has found me again. He is here now, and I'm too weak.

It would be easier if they were bullying me, but no, they're begging. My father's face is grey with worry and he's begging. My father is begging me.

Oh no, he's taking his hat off. He's taking off his hat to speak to speak to me!

They think magic comes free, when I snap my fingers. But if I can't do this for them, now, what good am I? I can't let them see I'm afraid. Witches aren't allowed to be afraid.

And this is my fault. I: I started all this. I must finish it.

Mr Aching cleared his throat.

'. . . And, er, if you could . . . er, magic it away, uh, or something? For us . . . ?'

Everything in the room was grey, because the light from the windows was coming through snow. No one had wasted time digging the horrible stuff away from the houses. Every person who could hold a shovel was needed elsewhere, and still there were not enough of them. As it was, most people had been up all night, walking the flocks of yearlings, trying to keep the new lambs safe . . . in the dark, in the snow . . .

Her snow. It was a message to her. A challenge. A summons.

'Allright,' she said. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'Good girl,' said her father, grinning with relief. No, not a good girl, thought Tiffany. I brought this on us.

'You'll have to make a big fire, up by the sheds,' she said aloud. 'I mean a big fire, do you understand? Make it out of anything that will burn and you must keep it going. It'll keep trying to go out, but you must keep it going. Keep piling on the fuel, whatever happens. The fire must not go out!'

She made sure that the 'not!' was loud and frightening. She didn't want people's minds to wander. She put on the heavy brown woollen cloak that Miss Treason had made for her and grabbed the black pointy hat that hung on the back of the farmhouse door. There was a sort of communal grunt from the people who'd crowded into the kitchen, and some of them backed away. We want a witch now, we need a witch now, but - we'll back away now, too.

That was the magic of the pointy hat. It was what Miss Treason called 'boffo'.

Tiffany Aching stepped out into the narrow corridor that had been cut through the snow-filled farmyard where the drifts were more than twice the height of a man. At least the deep snow kept off the worst of the wind, which was made of knives.

A track had been cleared all the way to the paddock, but it had been heavy-going. When there is fifteen feet of snow everywhere, how can you clear it? Where can you clear it to?

She waited by the cart sheds while the men hacked and scraped at the snow banks. They were tired to the bone by now; they'd been digging for hours.

The important thing was-

But there were lots of important things. It was important to look calm and confident, it was important to keep your mind clear, it was important not to show how pants-wettingly scared you were . . .

She held out a hand, caught a snowflake and took a good look at it. It wasn't one of the normal ones, oh no. It was one of his special snowflakes. That was nasty. He was taunting her. Now, she could hate him. She'd never hated him before. But he was killing the lambs.

She shivered, and pulled the cloak around her.

'This I choose to do,' she croaked, her breath leaving little clouds in the air. She cleared her throat and started again. 'This I choose to do. If there is a price, this I choose to pay. If it is my death, then I choose to die. Where this takes me, there I choose to go. I choose. This I choose to do.'

It wasn't a spell, except in her own head, but if you couldn't make spells work in your own head you couldn't make them work at all.

Tiffany wrapped her cloak around her against the clawing wind and watched dully as the men brought straw and wood. The fire started slowly, as if frightened to show enthusiasm.

She'd done this before, hadn't she? Dozens of times. The trick was not that hard when you got the feel of it, but she'd done it with time to get her mind right and, anyway, she'd never done it with anything more than a kitchen fire to warm her freezing feet. In theory it should be just as easy with a big fire and a field of snow, right?

Right?

Read a Sample Chapter

Wintersmith

HarperTeen

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-06-089031-2

Chapter One

When the storm came, it hit the hills like a hammer. No sky
should hold as much snow as this, and because no sky could,
the snow fell, fell in a wall of white.

There was a small hill of snow where there had been, a few
hours ago, a little cluster of thorn trees on an ancient
mound. This time last year there had been a few early
primroses; now there was just snow.

Part of the snow moved. A piece about the size of an apple
rose up, with smoke pouring out around it. A hand no larger
than a rabbit's paw waved the smoke away.

A very small but very angry blue face, with the lump of snow
still balanced on top of it, looked out at the sudden white
wilderness.

"Ach, crivens!" it grumbled. "Will ye no' look at this? 'Tis
the work o' the Wintersmith! Noo there's a scunner that willna
tak' 'no' fra' an answer!"

Other lumps of snow were pushed up. More heads peered out.

"Oh waily, waily, waily!" said one of them. "He's found the
big wee hag again!"

The first head turned toward this head, and said, "Daft
Wullie?"

"Yes, Rob?"

"Did I no' tell ye to lay off that waily business?"

"Aye, Rob, ye did that," said the head addressed as Daft
Wullie.

"So why did ye just do it?"

"Sorry, Rob. It kinda bursted out."

"It's so dispiritin'."

"Sorry, Rob.

Rob Anybodysighed. "But I fear ye're right, Wullie. He's come
for the big wee hag, right enough. Who's watchin' over her
doon at the farm?"

"Wee Dangerous Spike, Rob."

Rob looked up at clouds so full of snow that they sagged in
the middle.

"Okay," he said, and sighed again. "It's time fra' the Hero."

He ducked out of sight, the plug of snow dropping neatly back
into place, and slid down into the heart of the Feegle mound.

It was quite big inside. A human could just about stand up in
the middle, but would then bend double with coughing because
the middle was where there was a hole to let smoke out.

All around the inner wall were tiers of galleries, and every
one of them was packed with Feegles. Usually the place was
awash with noise, but now it was frighteningly quiet.

Rob Anybody walked across the floor to the fire, where his
wife, Jeannie, was waiting. She stood straight and proud, like
a kelda should, but close up it seemed to him that she had
been crying. He put his arm around her.

"All right, ye probably ken what's happenin'," he told the
blue-and-red audience looking down on him. "This is nae common
storm. The Wintersmith has found the big wee hag-noo then,
settle doon!"

He waited until the shouting and sword rattling had died down,
then went on: "We canna fight the Wintersmith for her! That's
her road! We canna walk it for her! But the hag o' hags has
set us on another path! It's a dark one, and dangerous!"

A cheer went up. Feegles liked the idea of this, at least.

"Right!" said Rob, satisfied. "Ah'm awa' tae fetch the Hero!"

There was a lot of laughter at this, and Big Yan, the tallest
of the Feegles, shouted, "It's tae soon. We've only had time
tae gie him a couple o' heroing lessons! He's still nae more
than a big streak o' nothin'!"

"He'll be a Hero for the big wee hag and that's an end o' it,"
said Rob sharply. "Noo, off ye go, the whole boilin' o' ye!
Tae the chalk pit! Dig me a path tae the Underworld!"

It had to be the Wintersmith, Tiffany Aching told herself,
standing in front of her father in the freezing farmhouse. She
could feel it out there. This wasn't normal weather even for
midwinter, and this was springtime. It was a challenge. Or
perhaps it was just a game. It was hard to tell, with the
Wintersmith.

Only it can't be a game because the lambs are dying. I'm only
just thirteen, and my father, and a lot of other people older
than me, want me to do something. And I can't. The Wintersmith
has found me again. He is here now, and I'm too weak.

It would be easier if they were bullying me, but no, they're
begging. My father's face is gray with worry and he's begging.
My father is begging me.

Oh no, he's taking his hat off. He's taking off his hat to
speak to me!

They think magic comes free when I snap my fingers. But if I
can't do this for them, now, what good am I? I can't let them
see I'm afraid. Witches aren't allowed to be afraid.
And this is my fault. I: I started all this. I must finish it.

Mr. Aching cleared his throat.

"... And, er, if you could ... er, magic it away, uh, or
something? For us ...?"

Everything in the room was gray, because the light from the
windows was coming through snow. No one had wasted time
digging the horrible stuff away from the houses. Every person
who could hold a shovel was needed elsewhere, and still there
were not enough of them. As it was, most people had been up
all night, walking the flocks of yearlings, trying to keep the
new lambs safe ... in the dark, in the snow....

Her snow. It was a message to her. A challenge. A summons.

"All right," she said. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good girl," said her father, grinning with relief. No, not a
good girl, thought Tiffany. I brought this on us.

"You'll have to make a big fire, up by the sheds," she said
aloud. "I mean a big fire, do you understand? Make it out of
anything that will burn ...

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Wintersmith
by Terry Pratchett
Copyright © 2006 by Terry Pratchett .
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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