When the Hogfather goes missing, the very machinery of belief begins to crumble. Into the sleigh steps Death himself — scythe swapped for a sack of toys — doing his awkward best to keep the spark of faith alive. Meanwhile, his granddaughter Susan (duchess, governess, and general slayer of nonsense) is left to sort out the cosmic chaos with her usual blend of reason and righteous exasperation.
On the surface, it’s a holiday adventure; underneath, it’s a meditation on the nature of belief itself. Pratchett doesn’t just ask what we believe in — he asks why we must. The little lies of childhood, like the Hogfather, are scaffolding for the great truths of humanity: mercy, justice, compassion, love.
Discworld’s snow-covered streets bustle with familiar absurdity — wizards in disarray, the Death of Rats squeaking encouragement, a raven complaining about existential crises. Yet within the laughter, there’s ache and wonder. Pratchett captures the fragile magic of midwinter: that moment when the dark almost wins, and we light candles anyway.
Susan remains one of his most compelling creations – she is the perfect anchor: brisk, sarcastic, and incapable of tolerating nonsense, magical or otherwise. She’s the heartbeat of this story — proof that rationality and wonder can share the same hearth.
Pratchett’s writing dances between comedy and philosophy, cynicism and awe. He exposes the bones beneath tradition, yet somehow makes them shine brighter. Hogfather isn’t just a Christmas story — it’s the Christmas story, retold with wit, compassion, and cosmic perspective.
Each reread feels like coming home to an old truth: that the stories we tell are what keep the sun rising. To read Hogfather is to feel both seen and comforted — as if Pratchett himself is whispering, Yes, the world is absurd. Believe in it anyway. So pour a glass of sherry wine, set out the mince pies, and remember: you have to believe in the little lies before you can believe in the big ones.
As a side tangent, this year I decided to listen to the Audiobook on Audible instead of wearing down the pages of my hardcopy a little bit more. And it was AMAZING. There is a rendition that is narrated by Bill Nighy that is exquisite to listen to.