Recently, fantasy fans around the world cried out in agony as Terry Pratchett’s hard drive (containing 10 unfinished novels) was destroyed as per his will. As was his wish, the hard drive was crushed by a steamroller and, honestly, I can think of no better send off. But reading the news got me thinking about other authors and what it means for a work in progress when it’s creator, for whatever reason, ceases to be able to work on it. Is death really the end for an author?
Despite his death in 1973, J.R.R. Tolkien’s works are still published regularly with revivals of legends of Middle Earth or companion guides to his world. Easily the most recognizable name in fantasy today, Tolkien’s impact on the realm of fantasy cannot go unnoticed, his stories still fresh and new 44 years after he died. His world and words live on by those who tell his stories and build upon them either on the page or the big screen. The Children of Hurin or The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun, for example, were both published within the last ten years, drawing on the influences from the legends in Tolkien’s The Silmarillion.
Douglas Adams, on the other hand, was continued with the best intentions. However, And Another Thing… didn’t quite have the same feel as the previous iterations as the rest of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series did. It was written with the best intentions to honor Adams and his legacy, but it fell flat, in my opinion. It’s a nice, neat continuation of the world of Douglas Adams, but it failed to have that same charm that I had grown to love while reading the books.
I feel that an author’s world doesn’t have to continue after their death. But the unfinished worlds, defined only by the author’s own imagination and intent, should be left. I respect and agree with Mr. Pratchett’s final wish, though I am sad to know we will never read them. But if that’s the end of his unfinished novels, I can think of no end more fitting than what he asked.
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