Genius in the nth degree. Pratchett's second Discworld tale is laden with his addicting and anything-but-typical brilliance for wordplay. No surprises there. However, at the same time, he manages stunning poignancy in the most unlikely places.
Rincewind and Twoflower evade that guy called Death once again. Save the world once again. And even - gasp! - grow more fond of one...
more Genius in the nth degree. Pratchett's second Discworld tale is laden with his addicting and anything-but-typical brilliance for wordplay. No surprises there. However, at the same time, he manages stunning poignancy in the most unlikely places.
Rincewind and Twoflower evade that guy called Death once again. Save the world once again. And even - gasp! - grow more fond of one another.
A jawdropping tale. Harry Potter on steroids - or perhaps something else all together. I shall now always wonder if Dumbledore or Gandalf wheezes when running - and, if he ran for president, what sort of candidate Twoflower might make.
Terry Pratchett has earned, for me, a unique place in that every sentence he writes - no matter how prosaic within the context of his mounting story arch - must be read at least twice before moving on. Is this what comes of writing under the influence of nuclear energy radiating round one's ears? Apparently so.
Frood Fantastic.
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