The Story Behind Death (Discworld)'s "NOT IN THE WAY THAT MATTERS."

I still remember the first time Terry Pratchett’s Death said those words to me—or rather, to Mort, his bumbling apprentice. It was the summer of 1987, and I’d just returned from a walk across the Chalk downs near my childhood home in Wiltshire. The air smelled of thyme and warm flint, and the book’s opening chapters had already pulled me into the absurd logic of the Discworld: a flat planet balanced on the backs of four elephants, who in turn stand on a giant turtle swimming through space. But nothing prepared me for the scene where Death, forced to take on a mortal apprentice, tries to explain his work to Mort while sitting on a hilltop at sunset.

The Moment: A Candle, a Shadow, and a Question

The hill was real. Pratchett based it on Tan Hill, the highest point in the North York Moors, where he’d once stood watching the sun dip below the edge of the Discworld. In Mort, Death wears his signature black robe and bone-white face, but here he’s also holding a scythe that hums faintly with the buzz of lifelines being cut. Mort, a teenager with a face like “a potato that’s just realized it’s not cut out for life,” as Pratchett described him, fidgets with his own apprentice scythe. He’s been watching Death reap souls all afternoon, but one thing nags at him.

“Why do you do it?” Mort asks. “It’s just—you know, people don’t like it.”

Death turns to him, the sockets of his skull gleaming. “DO YOU KNOW WHY THE CANDLE BURNS?” He gestures to a small flame conjured in his palm. “THE FLAME BURNS BECAUSE THE WAX IS MELTED, THE WICK IS DRAUGHTED, AND THE OXYGEN IS PRESENT. BUT IF YOU ASK THE CANDLE WHY IT BURNS, IT WILL SAY—BECAUSE IT IS A CANDLE.”

Mort blinks. “But that’s not a proper why.”

Death’s eye sockets narrow. “NOT IN THE WAY THAT MATTERS.”

The Reason: A Philosophy in Five Words

I’ve always loved how Pratchett wrote Death as both a force of nature and a weary civil servant. That line—“NOT IN THE WAY THAT MATTERS”—wasn’t improvised. Pratchett later admitted he’d been mulling over the phrase for years, drawing from his own experience as a press officer for the Nuclear Power Corporation. He’d seen how people twisted facts to suit agendas, how existential truths got lost in translation. “Death isn’t cruel,” he told The Times in 1993. “He’s just bad at explaining himself.”

The line crystallizes a Stoic idea Pratchett admired: that the universe doesn’t owe us explanations. To Death, the “why” of mortality isn’t about morality or justice; it’s a mechanical fact, like gravity or entropy. When Mort presses him, Death reiterates: “PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS ASKING WHY. WHY CAN’T YOU CHEAT DEATH? WHY DO WE HAVE TO DIE? BUT IF YOU ASK A ROCK WHY IT FALLS, IT WILL JUST LOOK AT YOU.”

The Reception: Mort’s Crisis of Faith

In the book, Mort’s crisis isn’t just philosophical—it’s visceral. He’d grown up in a family of assassins who saw death as a tool, but Death’s indifference unsettles him. After the hilltop conversation, he quits his apprenticeship, tries to “save” a princess from her fate, and nearly unravels reality. Pratchett’s editor at Corgi Books initially flagged this part as “too dark for a comedy fantasy,” but the author insisted. “Mort’s rebellion isn’t about death,” he wrote in a rejected draft note. “It’s about realizing the universe doesn’t care if you’re the hero.”

Readers responded viscerally. When Mort was shortlisted for the 1988 British Fantasy Award, one judge called the quote “a gut-punch of existential clarity.” Others wrote Pratchett letters saying it helped them cope with grief. “My dad died last week,” a fan posted on a 1990s Discworld forum. “Your Death made me feel like his dying wasn’t... personal.”

The Afterlife: A Legacy Beyond the Disc

Terry Pratchett’s Death died in Thief of Time (2001), passing his scythe to his granddaughter Susan. But the quote endured. In 2015, when Pratchett himself passed away, fans painted “NOT IN THE WAY THAT MATTERS” on the stones of Tan Hill. His estate included the line in the official condolence statement: “He did not suffer fools, and he did not romanticize endings. As he once wrote: NOT IN THE WAY THAT MATTERS.”

Today, the phrase lives in memes, tattoos, and the opening credits of the Discworld video games. But its power remains rooted in that hilltop scene. When Mort finally understands Death’s role, he doesn’t find comfort. He finds clarity. “It’s just the way things are,” he mutters in the end, echoing the line he once hated. And maybe that’s the point: the universe doesn’t owe us answers, but we can choose how to carry its truths.

Talk to Death on HoloDream, and he’ll show you the candle, the hill, and the scythe that hums with the weight of every life. He won’t make it hurt less—but he’ll help you see the flame for what it is.