Tuesday, 19 July 2011

Literary Cleanup, book #14

Terry Pratchett - Mort (the portuguese translation is available at your local library)

The palate cleanser. After I read the previous two books, I started Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. I want to like Douglas Adams. I know he's funny, the ideas are interesting but the style of writing on that particular book is very hard to get into. 65 pages in, and no sign of wanting to continue, I figured I'd motivate myself by reading the last Discworld book on my shelf (for now, because much like Pokemon, I feel like I gotta catch 'em all).

I went through it about a week, which is quite fast for me, seeing as I only picked it up every other day. As with previous Pratchett books, I quite enjoyed this. More so because this book starts the Death saga (if you are unsure what I meant by that, click on this). Death is, without a doubt, one of the funniest characters in the whole Discworld universe. The all caps talking, kitten loving skeletal figure is at the core of this novel though he's not its main character, as I first thought.

The main character is a fella called Mort. Characterized as a person who "thought too much" and was "made of knees", he was pushed by his father to become an apprentice. His mentor? Death. From here, we not only witness the delightful minutia of Death's work and routine, but also, Mort's evolution into a person made out of less knees. I won't dive the story too much, as I want you to enjoy it as much as I did, but I'll state that this is probably the easiest read I had this year. So much fun in 300 pages...what more could you ask. Well, possibly a curry.


"I'm no demon, I'm a human!" he said, and stopped in shock as his words emerged in perfect Klatch.
"So you're a thief?" said the father. "A murderer? To creep in thus, are you a tax-gatherer?" His hand slipped under the table and came up holding a meat cleaver honed to paper thinness. His wife screamed and dropped the plate and clutched the youngest children to her.
Mort watched the blade weave through the air and gave in.
"I bring you greetings from the uttermost circles of hell.", he hazarded.