Reality is all very well in small doses. It's a perfectly conventional and convenient way of neutralising the imagination. But sometimes when there's more than one reality at play, imagination just won't be neutralised, and the walls between realities come tumbling down. Unfortunately there's usually a damned good reason for there being walls between them in the first place. To keep things out. Things who want to make mischief and play havoc with the natural order.
The fourteenth Discworld novel.
Reality is all very well in small doses. It's a perfectly conventional and convenient way of neutralising the i...
Fate is a word that springs to the lips when to call something coincidence seems mealy mouthed. Destiny is another such. But the problem with destiny is, of course, that she is not always careful where she points her finger. One minute you might be minding your own business on a normal if not spectacular career path, the next you might be in the frame for the big job, like saving the world.
The fifteenth Discworld novel.
Fate is a word that springs to the lips when to call something coincidence seems mealy mouthed. Destiny is anoth...
The seventeenth Discworld novel. There are many who say that the art of diplomacy is an intricate and complex dance between two informed partners, determined by an elaborate set of elegant and unwritten rules. There are others who maintain that it's merely a matter of who carries the biggest stick. Like when a large, heavily fortified and armoured empire makes a faintly menacing request of a much smaller, infinitely more cowardly neighbour. It would be churlish, if not extremely dangerous, not to comply -- particularly if all they want is a wizard, and they don't specify whether...
The seventeenth Discworld novel. There are many who say that the art of diplomacy is an intricate and complex dance between two informed partners...
The sixteenth Discworld novel. There's no getting away from it. From whichever angle, death is a horrible, inescapable business. But someone's got to do it. So if Death decides to take a well-earned moment to uncover the meaning of life and discover himself in the process, then there is going to be a void of specific dimensions that needs to be occupied, particularly so when there is trouble brewing in Discworld. There aren't too many who are qualified to fill Death's footsteps and it certainly doesn't help the imminent cataclysm that the one person poised between the mortal...
The sixteenth Discworld novel. There's no getting away from it. From whichever angle, death is a horrible, inescapable business. But...
The eighteenth Discworld novel. "I thought: opera, how hard can it be? Songs. Pretty girls dancing. Nice scenery. Lots of people handing over cash. Got to be better than the cut-throat world of yoghurt, I thought. Now everywhere I go there's..." Death, to be precise. And plenty of it. In unpleasant variations. This isn't real life. This isn't even cheesemongering. It's opera. Where the music matters and where an opera house is being terrorised by a man in evening dress with a white mask, lurking in the shadows, occasionally killing people, and most worryingly, sending little...
The eighteenth Discworld novel. "I thought: opera, how hard can it be? Songs. Pretty girls dancing. Nice scenery. Lots of people handing over ...
For members of the City Watch, life consists of troubling times, linked together by periods of torpid inactivity. Now is one such troubling time. People are being murdered, but there's no trace of anything alive having been at the crime scene. Is there ever a circumstance in which you can blame the weapon not the murderer? Such philosophical questions are not the usual domain of the city's police, but they're going to have to start learning fast.
For members of the City Watch, life consists of troubling times, linked together by periods of torpid inactivity. Now is one such troubling time. P...
The twentieth bestseller for the UK's fastest selling author. There are those who believe and those who don't. Through the ages, superstition has had its uses. Nowhere more so than in the Discworld where it's helped to maintain the status quo. Anything that undermines superstition has to be viewed with some caution. There may be consequences, particularly on the last night of the year when the time is turning. When those consequences turn out to be the end of the world, you need to be prepared. You might even want more standing between you and oblivion than a mere slip of a girl -- even...
The twentieth bestseller for the UK's fastest selling author. There are those who believe and those who don't. Through the ages, superstition has...
World War breaks out on the Discworld in the twenty-first Discworld novel. Throughout history, there's always been a perfectly good reason to start a war. Never more so if it is over a 'strategic' piece of old rock in the middle of nowhere. It is after all every citizen's right to bear arms to defend what they consider to be their own. Even if it isn't. And in such pressing circumstances, you really shouldn't let small details like the absence of an army or indeed the money to finance one get in the way of a righteous fight with all the attendant benefits of out-and-out nationalism.
World War breaks out on the Discworld in the twenty-first Discworld novel. Throughout history, there's always been a perfectly good reason to sta...
On the Discworld's last continent, it's hot. It's dry. . . very dry. There was this thing once called the Wet, which no one now believes in. Practically everything that's not poisonous is venomous. But it's the best bloody place in the world, all right? And it'll die in a few days, except. . . Who is this hero striding across the red desert? Champion sheep shearer, horse rider, road warrior, beer drinker. A man in a hat, whose Luggage follows him on little legs, Yes . . . all this place has between itself and wind-blown doom is Rincewind, the inept wizard. He's the only hero left. Still . . ....
On the Discworld's last continent, it's hot. It's dry. . . very dry. There was this thing once called the Wet, which no one now believes in. Practical...
Mightily Oats has not picked a good time to be priest. He thought he was there for a simple little religious ceremony. Now he's caught up in a war between vampires and witches, and he's not sure there is a right side. There's the witches -- Agnes, Magrat, Nanny Ogg, and the formidable Granny Weatherwax... And the vampires: the stakes are high but they're intelligent -- not easily got rid of with a garlic enema or going to the window and saying "I don't know about you, but isn't it a bit stuffy in here?" They've got style and fancy waistcoats. They're out of the casket and want a bite of the...
Mightily Oats has not picked a good time to be priest. He thought he was there for a simple little religious ceremony. Now he's caught up in a war bet...
