Thief of Time, by Terry Pratchett

Part of my on-going complete Discworld re-read project

…I don’t know what to say about this one.

It’s a frustrating novel, this. For two thirds of the book, it is in many ways among Pratchett’s best. It’s funny, it’s very pacey, it’s weird, it’s interesting, it’s intellectual. Surprisingly intellectual – I couldn’t help noticing that some passages come very close in content to another book I’m reading at the moment, John Wisdom’s once-seminal (now largely forgotten) classic of Oxonian analytical philosophy, Other Minds (though this says as much about Wisdom as it does about Pratchett, I think).

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I don’t even…

…what? what’s happening? HOW is it happening?

Looking at the election results, the polls… everything makes no sense. It makes no sense, people! On any level!

…I think I’m going to have to go to bed and hope that this was all some sort of hallucination.

The Truth, by Terry Pratchett

It’s a remarkable book, The Truth. That’s not saying anything about how good it is – just the fact that it is. This is, as is proudly and prominently displayed not only on the cover of the hardback but even on the inside lining, the 25^th Discworld novel. Twenty-five novels in one setting! That’s impressive. But what’s remarkable is that The Truth doesn’t feel like the 25^th novel in a series: it feels like the first.