Terry Pratchett’s latest novel contains such a rich and compelling mixture of themes and ideas that it puts many other authors to shame – and it’s all the more impressive that he is willing to explore these in a book that is marketed as being for young adults. Indeed, it’s Pratchett’s young adult work that has won him awards in the past (The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents won the Carnegie Medal) and broadened his reach beyond his considerable Discworld fanbase – of course, all his adult fans are likely to read Nation, as I did, and it’s a testament to Pratchett’s genius that at no stage will they feel patronised. Pratchett never seems to have to ‘write down’ to his YA readership, which means we can all enjoy his considerable storytelling skills.

The range of themes is pretty breathtaking, and includes the nature of religious truth, nationalism, traditionalism versus innovation, the perils of imperialism, and the value of the scientific method. Set in an alternative but very recognisable version of our 19th century world, on an small island somewhere in the Pacific (sorry, Pelagic) Ocean, the central protagonist is Mau, a boy on the cusp of manhood. Mau is off the main island, by himself, as part of his rite of passage, when a monster tidal wave devastates the island, killing every single inhabitant (it was very noticeable for me that the deaths of the islanders are not glossed over, and disposal of their bodies is one of Mau’s first priorities, which I thought showed an impressive commitment to realism). The same tidal wave causes the schooner Sweet Judy to run aground on the island, with the loss of all hands except the young Daphne Fanshawe, a very minor member of the British royal family, of a similar age to Mau. As the only survivors of the disaster, Mau and Daphne must overcome their considerable cultural and linguistic differences (which Pratchett mines for their full comic potential) to form an effective team. As more survivors start to arrive from other islands, they form the nucleus of a new community.

The plot is complex, and again Pratchett does not spare his readers from needing to use their brains: the Grandfathers, spirits of the tribal elders, are talking to Mau, trying to steer him down traditional paths all the time; there are mutineers from the Sweet Judy and cannibal raiders to worry about; there’s Daphne’s father, searching for her while others search for him to tell him that due to a particularly virulent flu epidemic he’s now the King of England; and there’s a potty-mouthed parrot. Pratchett does not fail to interweave his trademark humour in to all of this – the parrot is very funny, as are the grandfather birds, ghastly waddling scavengers that will eat anything just in case it’s edible and cheerfully throw it up it if turns out not to be (imagine the dawn chorus!). It all comes to a climax in which Mau’s ingenuity, humanity and leadership are put severely to the test.

At its heart, Nation is a coming of age novel, profoundly moral with a lot of lessons for those willing to heed them. Being Pratchett, it is of course laugh-out-loud funny in very many places, but it’s also moving without being mawkish, and to balance those two elements in the same book, for a younger audience, is a huge achievement. Having read almost all of Pratchett’s prodigious output since first discovering him nearly 20 years ago, I would venture to suggest this is one of his finest books to date, and something that should be enjoyed by the widest possible readership. Somehow, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few more prizes are on the horizon for Nation.

(An unfortunate postscript: hardly Terry’s fault, but my airport-purchased trade paperback edition fell to bits after only two readings – and I didn’t drop it in the bath or anything! Don’t buy this book in the airport, would be my advice…)

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