“When it comes to wine, women and song, wizards are allowed to get down and croon as much as they like.” (Sourcery)
Wizards don’t have sex. Except of course where sex = biological gender because wizards are male in almost all instances and will argue any exceptions out of existence.
The celibacy of wizards is an odd quirk of Discworld magic which regularly returns as a running joke. However, most people (including the wizards themselves) are hazy on the ‘why’ behind the sex ban. Is ‘No Sex Please, We’re Wizards’ a rule of the universe, a rule of Unseen University, or more of a guideline?
We’re offered several answers over the course of the series, contradicting one another, and awash with flagrant heteronormativity. Marriage, sex and procreation in the Discworld are inevitable and interchangeable consequences, it seems, of men and women being allowed to come into contact with each other.[1]
The reasons given for the celibacy of wizards in the Discworld can be largely grouped into three categories:
1) Sexual expression and even sexual thoughts are literally incompatible with magic, and may affect a wizard’s ability to perform.[2]
2) Wizards must be prevented from indulging in marriage and/or extra-marital sex to prevent procreation, with particular reference to the birth of Sourcerors.
3) Unseen University must be preserved as a wholly masculine space[3] so that the wizards may spend their days immersed in an academic Shangri-La of dusty books, magical duels, nine square meals a day and a constantly-replenishing cheese trolley without having to bother themselves about the potentially nagging or needy voices of wives, mothers or children.[4]
A fourth theory might be considered, implicit rather than explicit in the text: the men who are drawn to wizardry as a career are predominantly those who have little interest in or knowledge of sex in the first place, placing the imposed celibacy of wizardry somewhere between an irrelevance and a blessed relief.
INCOMPATIBILITY
“The reason given to young wizards was that the practice of magic is hard and demanding and incompatible with sticky and furtive activities. It was a lot more sensible, they were told, to stop worrying about that sort of thing and really get to grips with Woddely’s Occult Primer instead.” (Sourcery)
It is often expressed across the Discworld novels that a wizard’s magic is incompatible with sexual expression, romantic entanglement, or even lustful thoughts.
At the end of Mort, Ysabell hints at the burgeoning romance between the wizard Cutwell and Queen Keli, suggesting that he hasn’t been seen doing much magic lately. Ysabell, of course, is not an expert — and her cheeky aside does not clarify whether Cutwell is choosing not to use magic, or can no longer perform magic, now that he and Keli are (allegedly) romantically involved.
This concept of wizarding practice being hampered by sexual impulses or activity is regularly alluded to by Rincewind, the first wizard (or rather, wizzard) we meet in the early Discworld novels.
Rincewind is established early on as the sort of chap who would be disastrous around women even were he not pledged to a profession that demands celibacy. Luckily, his interest in them is minimal at best. He is often thrown into the path of forthright, attractive young ladies in the manner of all protagonists of heroic fantasy, requiring Fate and/or the author to step in long before Rincewind genuinely has to choose between magic and sex.
Because, of course, he would choose magic.
In The Light Fantastic, Rincewind (prevented from learning spells thanks to the giant scary spell from the Octavo living rent-free in his head) finally experiences magic, if only remotely.
“Magic! So that was what it felt like. No wonder wizards didn’t have much truck with sex!” (The Light Fantastic)
He acknowledges that he’s had orgasms in his time (“sometimes even in company”)[5] “but nothing from his experience got close, not even by far, with that hot, tensioned moment when every part of his body was invaded by the white-blue fire, when magic sprung out of his fingers.”
In Sourcery, Rincewind clearly believes the myth that sex would hurt his magical ability — during his brief window of fancying Conina, he briefly considers the unarguable fact that his magic is rubbish anyway, so what would he have to lose?
When Conina meets and instantly falls for Nijel (her actual love interest), Rincewind’s dismay has far more to do with the inconvenience of two travel companions getting soppy than a personal sense of lost romantic opportunity. The main vibe he gives off is relief. Wild sourcery comes into his life shortly thereafter, and Rincewind spends the rest of the book thinking about magic instead of girls.[6]
2. THE PREVENTION OF SOURCERY
Sourcery (1988) provides a whole new explanation for the wizarding sex ban. Here, we are told that it’s not merely a bit naughty to break this particular rule… it might break the world.
Ipslore the Red was exiled from wizarding and the University “for daring to love” — which is to say, for marrying a woman. This would not have had any further consequences, had the couple not gone on to have eight sons. The youngest, Coin, as a third generation eighth son, automatically becomes a world-destroying magical force known as a Sourceror.
Sourcery explicitly states that no matter what else has been said on the topic (by the same author), the long-forgotten real problem is “if wizards were allowed to go around breeding all the time, there was a risk of sourcery.”[7]
While it is true that birth control in a fantasy world (even one on the brink of a highly inventive industrial revolution, with an army of competent seamstresses ready to advise) is unlikely to be reliable, it is interesting that the fear of sourcery has given rise to such a drastic regulation for wizards.
All one would need, surely, is the distribution of a magical infertility charm to all student wizards, and the issue could have been solved.
It is only the practice of wizardry — an intellectual vocation for men involving books and the rote-learning of spells as compared to the more practical day-to-day magic performed by witches — that is considered incompatible with sex in the Discworld, which might go some way to explaining why the only decision witches need to make regarding sex or no sex is whether or not they wish to balance family and a career.[8]
When Archchancellor Ridcully re-visits the kingdom of Lancre in Lords and Ladies, he indulges in wistful, rose-coloured memories of ‘the one that got away,’ a lively girl who (it turns out) grew up to be Granny Weatherwax.
Ridcully remembers being at a crossroads as a young wizard, with magic no longer satisfying him. He briefly considered ditching wizardry to marry Esme, but their romance fizzled out. Ridcully now has a successful wizarding career — and yet, he indulges in wistful sighs about what might have been.
Granny is also haunted by the alternate universe in which she married Ridcully, had children, and so on… but unlike the wistful wizard, she has few regrets. Crucially, the version of Esme Weatherwax who married Ridcully could have continued as a witch, while he could certainly not have stayed a wizard. Had their lives gone down that path, Ridcully might easily have turned into another Ipslore the Red, given that quitting wizardry doesn’t solve the Sourcerer problem.[9]
Despite Lords and Ladies being written and set several years after the events of Sourcery, Ridcully is casually unbothered about the potential consequences of a wizard indulging in sex, referring to that particular rule as being more of a guideline.
3. NO GIRLS ALLOWED
Just because the “true” reason for the ban on wizard sex stems from procreation rather than prudery, does not mean it is the only reason.
It has always been convenient to the wizarding community to ban marriage, sex and procreation from its members. The mystique of the wizarding profession includes an invitation to live within the gates of Unseen University in an eternal boys club: an old-fashioned masculine space where the only women allowed to enter are those doing the cooking or the cleaning, while minding their own business (as a wife, perhaps, could not be expected to do.) [10]
As early as The Light Fantastic (1986) we have a textual acknowledgement that the exclusion of women is for the selfish convenience of the male professors rather than any more logical purpose:
Unseen University had never admitted women, muttering something about problems with the plumbing, but the real reason was an unspoken dread that if women were allowed to mess around with magic they would probably be embarrassingly good at it…
I recently came across a theory[11] that Tolkien’s portrayal of the Ents was inspired by his wife’s resentment of their life in Oxford where he thrived as an academic in the company of men including the Inklings, his awkward, intellect-obsessed male friend group. The Ents are slow, ponderous and vaguely melancholic about having been abandoned by the Ent-wives for no reason they can understand; this Inklings theory posits that the Ent-wives ditched their frustratingly intellectual husbands after years of having their own needs neglected.[12] If true, it shows a remarkable sense of self-awareness about Tolkien’s strained relationship with his wife.[13]
There is certainly a long history of universities as havens for beardy bookish men to escape from their long-suffering wives and neglected children in order to play at being geniuses in an environment that rewards them with status, big dinners and fancy robes. Universities may have moved on from this old-fashioned concept but it was very much a Thing when Pratchett was writing his early Discworld books and dusty pockets of this style of academia can still be found on campuses today.
In Equal Rites, Unseen University’s male-centred world does not allow for a girl like Esk, destined for wizardry by birth (the eighth daughter of an eighth son) to be accepted into their community. Granny spots the loophole immediately, showing Esk how to access the University unofficially by wielding a broom, but this is far from a satisfying outcome.
The women of Unseen University — which is to say, the women of the household staff — are glimpsed here and there throughout the Discworld series, presided over by the mighty Mrs Whitlow. While Mrs Whitlow generally serves as gatekeeper of the rules of the University, on rare occasions she represents disruptive female sexual energy, such as when Music with Rocks In invades the Discworld and she goes full fangirl, up to and including throwing her undergarments at the stage.[14]
In Unseen Academicals, the daily life of UU is described as being “as masculine as the smell of old socks and pipe smoke and, given the faculty’s general laxness when it came to knocking out their pipes, the smell of smoking socks as well.” We learn that Mrs Whitlow specifically chooses her female staff members to be rosy-cheeked, domestic and unsexy — Juliet Stollop being the exception that proved the rule.[15]
The powerful effect of the Unseen University as Masculine Space is further explored in The Last Continent, where a group of the faculty (and by accident, Mrs Whitlow) are transported to a surprise magical desert island adventure. Freed of the usual strictures of the university, the wizards experience rapid emotional and social changes, including surprising urges to compete for the attention of Mrs Whitlow, the only woman of the party.[16] The Senior Wrangler is especially affected by Mrs Whitlow’s allure.
Later in the same book, the faculty are briefly de-aged. Mrs Whitlow’s transformation into an attractive and sensual young woman causes a shock reawakening of several libidos, giving the already-compromised Senior Wrangler a meltdown at the sight of her coconuts.
JUST HOW SEXY ARE WIZARDS ANYWAY?
Despite the overall campaign to convince wizards that sex and magic can’t exist in the same place, sex magic does technically exist in the Discworld.
“Ge Fordge’s Compenydyum of Sex Majick is kept in a vat of ice in a room all by itself and there’s a strict rule that it can only be read by wizards who are over eighty and, if possible, dead.” (Sourcery)
The joke is that only old wizards, their sex drive flattened by decades of being surrounded by other old wizards, may apparently study sexual magic as a theory-based subject, as it should be no particular danger to them. A conflation of asexuality with old age is an easy target for humour, though it turns out that age does not (shocker!) preclude sexual interest, least of all in wizards – in fact, when it comes to Discworld wizards and sex (or at least sexual thoughts) we are provided with far more examples among the elderly.
In Moving Pictures, a rebellious night out for the Dean, the Chair, The Lecturer in Recent Runes, Windle Poons (the oldest living wizard) and other senior faculty provides the faculty with a startling sexual awakening, thanks to the very attractive Holy Wood star Delores De Syn (Ginger).
Windle Poons has attained a pure state of ‘no fucks left to give,’ using his advanced age as an excuse to indulge in all manner of activities that other wizards consider undignified or selfish. Unsurprisingly, he is the only wizard who allows himself to enjoy the kick to his libido provided by the glamorous Ginger, while his peers merely find it awkward and confusing… they certainly can’t understand why Victor, a former wizarding student, finds it more rewarding to spend his time kissing young ladies for the Clicks than learning to be a wizard.
Later, during their desert island experience in The Last Continent, the wizarding faculty are so embarrassed by the very notion of sex that it falls to Mrs Whitlow (previously seen as the bastion of prudery) to enlighten the confused God of Evolution on the subject of human reproduction -- which she does with surprising gusto and good humour.
In Unseen Academicals, the wizards experience romantic stirrings, thanks to the hiring of beauty Juliet Stollop in the Night Kitchen.
Here we are told that wizards practice celibacy “in theory because women were distracting and bad for the magical organs,” another explanation that avoids all reference to sourcery (or, indeed, Sourcery).
Juliet’s beauty has a profound impact on the wizards. Unlike with Ginger in Moving Pictures and Mrs Whitlow in The Last Continent, where there was at least a hint of smuttiness among the thoughts of the elderly faculty members, here they process their attraction largely through a lens of innocence: longing looks, daydreams and the quiet urge (never acted upon) to write poetry or buy flowers.[17]
In all these examples where the joke is about elderly celibate men suddenly getting a flutter of sexual or romantic interest in ladies, Ponder Stibbons is left out of the fun. Ponder (the youngest wizard we spend any time with) is written as the most asexual of all wizards in the Discworld, generally responding to the antics of his elder co-workers with a mixture of embarrassment and being-too-busy-to-care.
Unseen Academicals includes several more gems to enlighten us on the sexuality or lack thereof of wizards — such as the Chair of Indefinite Studies’ earnest concern that the new football uniform should not include overly short trousers as “it is a well-known fact that a glimpse of the male knee can drive women into a frenzy of libidinousness.” It also has to be pointed out to Ridcully by Glenda Sugarbean that the classic uniform design with two Us in front is going to look like comedy boobs; neither he nor the rest of the wizards would have noticed this on their own.
The book also includes a character who shakes up everything we know about Discworld wizards: Professor Bengo Macarona from Genua, where the rule about celibacy is largely ignored. Professor Macarona is not only attractive and excellent at football, he also inspires a significant (and long-overdue) discussion on homosexuality among wizards of the Discworld.
Ponder is reluctant at first to explain to Ridcully about Professor Macarona’s past affair with a man; the younger wizard visibly braces himself for Ridcully to say something tremendously offensive in response.[18] Instead, Ridcully cites several other examples of gay wizards he has known and launches into a remarkably sweet speech about acceptance:
“Anyway, in my opinion there’s not enough love in the world. Besides, if you didn’t like the company of men you wouldn’t come here in the first place.”
The ‘no sex’ rule, clearly, is one that was all about heterosexuality all along, whether to keep ladies away from UU, or to keep sourcery at bay.
Sourcery and Ipslore the Red notwithstanding, the celibacy imposed upon wizards at Unseen University — whether a rule or a guideline — does little to hold them back. In most cases, it is a life choice they appear to have embraced with great enthusiasm, or at least accepted as an easy sacrifice.
The greatest problem stemming from the celibacy rule – and it’s clearly not something that the wizards themselves see as a problem – is their isolation from the female half of the population. However, we do see some of the wizards — Ridcully in particular — question whether wizards do in fact have things to learn from women, whether that be Granny Weatherwax or Glenda Sugarbean. Is it possible that, had the Discworld series not lost their author so soon, rumblings of gender equality might finally have shaken Unseen University to its core?
Or, like Professor Tolkien and his friends, were the wizards of Unseen University always to continue largely unchanged in their life of pipe smoke and generous pies, isolated but content?
Notes
[1] It is not acknowledged by the author until very late in the day that there are options other than heterosexual sex and romance.
[2] Magic, that is.
[3] This discounts the body of women included in the housekeeping and cooking staff, who work hard to make the lives of these bachelor wizards inexpressibly comfortable.
[4] Wizards would, incidentally, also prefer the university to be entirely free of students, but they can’t have it all their own way.
[5] It’s not specified whether or not Rincewind’s sexual experience with other people pre-dates his wizarding career, or if there is any overlap, but it is clear that the lack of magic in his life has caused him far more angst.
[6] In Interesting Times, we are once again shown that sexy women aren’t at the top of Rincewind’s list of priorities, as his time isolated in the desert only leaves him craving potatoes.
[7] This raises more questions than it answers, particularly whether all wizards are literally eighth sons of eighth sons. If so, how on earth are there so many of them?
[8] If witches were capable of producing sourcerors, then the fecund line of Nanny Ogg and her forebears would surely have destroyed the world.
[9] It seems unlikely that any version of Granny would have allowed things to progress that far; hopefully her knowledge of herbs would have kept their family to a safe size.
[10] This is not unique to Unseen University - even Bugurup University in FourEcks had a sign saying Nulli Sheilae sanguinae.
[11] https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/User:Ardamir/Essays/Entwives
[12] Of all the questions I wish I had asked Terry Pratchett while I had the chance, “did you base Unseen University on the Inklings and/or the Ents” is now top of the list. If nothing else, it might have made him laugh.
[13] I’m not sure if this would have been much consolation from Edith Tolkien’s perspective
[14] In Soul Music.
[15] Glenda Sugarbean, a young woman projecting serious grandma energy, is the perfect example of Mrs Whitlow’s hiring policy. Though as it turns out, she does just fine in the attracting chaps department, and not just because of her pies.
[16] The role of Mrs Whitlow, Only Woman in the World, as an object of saucy attraction is cemented when she takes her corsets off and develops her own line of full figured beachwear.
[17] I think we can all be relieved that things didn’t develop in the direction of sexual harassment. Indeed, Juliet remains blissfully unaware of her effect on men in general, and the wizards in particular.
[18] Ponder shows remarkable awareness here (for a wizard) of social nuance — he seems especially invested in Ridcully’s response to learning of Macarona’s sexuality, and attempts to inform him further about the possibility of gay students at UU.
Tansy Rayner Roberts is a Doctor of Classics, a Doctor Who podcaster, and an author of many science fiction and fantasy books, as well as the essay collection Pratchett’s Women. You can find her at tansyrr.com.