Puzzling Protagonists With Pratchett

Mosaic of the 12 labors of Heracles…

“The way to deal with an impossible task was to chop it down into a number of merely very difficult tasks, and break each one of them into a group of horribly hard tasks, and each of them into tricky jobs, and each of them…”

A riddle, a puzzle, an impossible task… literary heroes are often forced to unravel, solve, or outmaneuver devious traps, tricks, and plots as part of their heroic journey.

I particularly love when the hero comes up with a unique or creative solution to the problem, often turning it on their opponent. And Sir Terry Pratchett, author of the DiscWorld series (among many other wonderful books) was a master craftsman of scenarios like this.

So today, I thought I would look at some of these puzzling scenarios and impossible tasks, and see how the protagonists penned by Terry Pratchett bested them with brains more than brawn.


One of the classic examples of the Impossible Task is the Gordian Knot. This knot secured an ox cart to a post. The knot was described as several knots all so tightly entangled that it was impossible to find the ends or see how they were fastened. It was said that whoever untied it would rule Asia.

Alexander the Great defeated the knot in one of two inventive ways, depending on the source. He either removed the linchpin from the pole, exposing the two ends of the cord and allowing him to untie it, or more famously, he sliced the knot in two with a single stroke of his sword.

Pratchett had his own take on this concept in The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, his version of the Pied Piper story where a sentient cat used friendly mice and a fake piper to con villagers out of their money.

In one village where something sinister is afoot, Maurice the cat was confronted by Spider, a rat king (and monstrous psychic being) formed from rats whose tails are intertwined.

Much like Alexander, Maurice unraveled the knot by biting through all the entangled rat tails, forcing them to separate and defeating the amalgamated being.


One of the most deviously clever denizens of the DiscWorld is Esmerelda Weatherwax, aka Granny Weatherwax. She is a witch who serves the people of Lancre, using magic, common sense, and her particular knack for dealing with people, which she calls Headology.

Granny crosses paths with dark forces, ambitious magic users, and other threats to the land of Lancre, and has found herself in puzzling scenarios more than once.

In one example, Granny is trapped somewhere between death and life. Her only companion is the physical embodiment of Death (who gets his own font in DiscWorld books). She is given the choice between venturing into the light and venturing into the dark, with no indication which leads back to the land of the living.

Quite poignantly, Granny turns to face the light, then steps backward into the dark.

Fans have two prevailing interpretations of this moment. Some see it simply as a reflection of the idea of “going into the light” meaning moving on from this realm. But others (myself included) see it as Granny once again choosing to defend others, facing the light, but stepping back into the darkness where she is needed most.

During another adventure, Granny is trapped within a mirror realm, again joined by Death.

But this time, she has to figure out which of a billion reflected versions of her is the true one.

(As you can see, someone was inspired by this scene to get a “This one.” tattoo that would only read out properly in a mirror.)

Granny bets on herself, trusting in her own honesty, strength of character, and insight. And she is served well by that choice.


Another DiscWorld novel sees Granny (and her fellow witches, Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick) venturing abroad to save her sister Lily from a witch with a specialty in voodoo.

Granny wagers against the powerful Erzulie Gogol, betting on her mastery of Headology vs. Gogol’s voodoo powers. If Granny wins, Lily goes free and the people of Genua are left to their own devices, free of Gogol’s magical influences.

Gogol agrees to leave the city alone, but not to give up Granny’s evil sister.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Mistress Weatherwax,’ said Mrs. Gogol.

‘That’s good,’ said Granny. ‘I don’t want you to hurt me either.

Defiantly, Granny ignores Gogol menacing her with a voodoo doll and begins walking toward the stairs that lead to her sister.

Gogol continues threatening to stab the doll of Granny, and Weatherwax persists, even going so far as to point out she would be more ruthless than Gogol.

‘I should box a bit clever if I was you, Esme,’ muttered Nanny Ogg. ‘She’s good at this sort of thing.’

‘I think she could be very ruthless,’ said Magrat.

‘I’ve got nothing but the greatest respect for Mrs. Gogol,’ said Granny. ‘A fine woman. But talks a bit too much. If I was her, I’d have had a couple of big nails right through that thing by now.’

Gogol jabs a long sliver of wood into the doll’s foot, then its arm. Everyone sees Granny wince and react to the painful attacks. But Granny continues to climb the stairs, despite Gogol stabbing another sliver into the doll’s leg, causing Granny to clutch at the banister.

Granny turns toward Gogol, who threatens to stab the doll’s heart this time.

But Granny instead thrusts her own arm into a nearby torch, causing the doll to burst into flames.

In DiscWorld, belief makes things happen. Gogol believes in her magic, and so does everyone else. Granny turns that belief against her. The magic works both ways, you see, and Granny is made of sterner stuff.

It went on blazing even after the witch had screamed and dropped it on to the floor. It went on burning until Nanny Ogg ambled over with a jug of fruit juice from the buffet, whistling between her teeth, and put it out.

Granny withdrew her hand. It was unscathed.

‘That’s headology,’ she said. ‘It’s the only thing that matters. Everything else is just messin’ about. Hope I didn’t hurt you, Mrs. Gogol.’

She went on up the stairs.

Mrs. Gogol kept on staring at the damp ashes. Nanny Ogg patted her companionably on the shoulder.

‘How did she do that?’ said Mrs. Gogol.

‘She didn’t. She let you do it,’ said Nanny. ‘You got to watch yourself around Esme Weatherwax. I’d like to see one of them Zen buggers come up against her one day.’

‘And she’s the good one?’ said Baron Saturday.

‘Yeah,’ said Nanny. ‘Funny how things work out, really.’


My all-time favorite example in the DiscWorld books comes from The Last Hero, an illustrated adventure where a group of aged heroes, The Silver Horde, seek to climb the mountain of the gods and “return fire to them” (by blowing them up with explosives).

As they are confronted by the various Gods, Cohen the Barbarian is challenged by Fate to do the impossible: to roll a seven on a six-sided die.

Similar to the solution of the Gordian Knot, Cohen throws the die in the air and cuts it in two with his sword, causing the two pieces to fall to the ground, revealing a six and a one.

Now that is thumbing your nose at Fate with style.


It’s all well and good to be lucky, or brave, or tough, but clever? Clever is where it’s at. Clever beats monsters, fire, and Death itself. Clever challenges the reader to imagine how THEY’D get out of the impossible scenario, allowing them to best the bad guy or to be equally surprised by the protagonist’s ingenuity.

And very few authors gave readers the opportunity to be clever with the style and aplomb of Terry Pratchett.

“…she was already learning that if you ignore the rules, people will, half the time, quietly rewrite them so that they don’t apply to you.”

Do you have a favorite moment of puzzly cleverness from literature, fellow puzzlers? Do you have a favorite impossible task that was outwitted, or a devious design unraveled by smarts instead of steel? Let me know in the comments section below! I’d love to hear from you.