A review by lifeinthebooklane
A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett

4.0

The trouble with Tiffany was her Third Thoughts. They thought: She lives by herself. Who lit the fire? A bubbling pot needs stirring from time to time. Who stirred it? And someone lit the candles. Who?

At the grand age of eleven years old Tiffany Aching sets off to train to be a witch, but she's a little impatient and an error of judgement allows an opportunist to borrow her body. Frogs, pink fleshy balloons and general mayhem ensue and it's up to Tiffany, with the help of Granny Weatherwax to set the problem right. The Nac Mac Feegle, under a geas (which isn't a bird that goes "honk" but rather an obligation) disguise themselves as a bigjob and travel to the mountains to keep their wee big hag, Tiffany, safe.

Awf'ly Wee Billy Bigchin Mac Feegle always announced himself in full. He seemed to feel that if he didn't tell people who he was, they'd forget about him and he'd disappear. When you're half the size of most grown pictsies you're really short; much shorter and you'd be a hole in the ground.

Terry Pratchett had a rare skill, through the power of a humour-filled story he shows us how to be better human beings. He carefully exposes our flaws and failings, holds them up to the light and gently demonstrates how, perhaps, we could be doing things instead.
Along the way, Tiffany and the reader, learn that true magic isn't in the big showy things. Though sometimes it's nice to DO those big showy things, just not too often in case your head gets too big. Magic, in truth, is found in the small things. It's found in noticing when something needs doing and being the person who does that job without expectation of reward or recognition. It's in looking out for others and caring for those unable to care for themselves.

"Mistress Weatherwax is the head witch, then, is she?"
"On no!" said Miss Level, looking shocked. "Witches are all equal. We don't have things like head witches. That's quite against the spirit of witchcraft."
"Oh, I see," said Tiffany
"Besides," Miss Level added, "Mistress Weatherwax would never allow that sort of thing."


The garden was full of ornaments. They were rather sad, cheap ones - bunny rabbits with mad grins, pottery dear with big eyes, gnomes with pointy red hats and expressions that suggested they were on bad medication.


She started to bob a curtsy to Mistress Weatherwax, remembered she was a witch and tried to turn it into a bow halfway down, which was an event you'd pay money to see.
She ended up bent double, and from somewhere in there came a little voice, "Um, can someone help, please? I think my Octogram of Trimontane had caught up on my Pouch of Nine Herbs....."