#terrypratchett — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #terrypratchett, aggregated by home.social.
-
"The horses were quietly cropping the rich grass by the stream. Yellow butterflies skittered among the bushes. There was a smell of thyme and a buzzing of bees. The wild pigs on the spit sizzled gently. Hrun shrugged and went back to oiling his biceps. They gleamed."
- Terry Pratchett, The Colour of Magic
-
…like many old ladies, Nanny Ogg was a bottomless pit for free food. (Carpe Jugulum)
-
Rincewind could scream for mercy in nineteen languages, and just scream in another forty-four. (Interesting Times)
-
The #DiscworldConvention may be over but the show must go on!
Check out today's #Newsletter to find out how to give us feedback, how to volunteer for 2028, lost and found at the convention... and a spectacular charity update!
-
She leaned forward and gave him a kiss as insubstantial as a mayfly’s sigh, fading as she did so until only the kiss was left, just like a Cheshire cat only much more erotic.
(Mort) -
Colon in particular had great difficulty with the idea that you went on investigating after someone had confessed. It outraged his training and experience. You got a confession and there it ended. You didn’t go around disbelieving people. You disbelieved people only when they said they were innocent. Only guilty people were trustworthy. (Feet of Clay)
-
One of the recurring philosophical questions is:
‘Does a falling tree in the forest make a sound when there is no one to hear?’
Which says something about the nature of philosophers, because there is always someone in the forest. It may only be a badger, wondering what that cracking noise was, or a squirrel a bit puzzled by all the scenery going upwards, but someone. (Small Gods) -
There are very few starts. Oh, some things seem to be beginnings.
The curtain goes up, the first pawn moves, the first shot is fired* – but that’s not the start. The play, the game, the war is just a little window on a ribbon of events that may extend back thousands of years. The point is, there is always something before. It’s always a case of Now Read On.
*Probably at the first pawn. (Lords and Ladies) -
‘D’reg?’ said Angua.
‘A warlike desert tribe,’ said Carrot. ‘Very fierce. Honourable, though. They say that if a D’reg is your friend he’s your friend for the rest of your life.’
‘And if he’s not your friend?’
‘That’s about five seconds.’
(Jingo) -
Terminado Pies de Barro, tercera novela de la saga de la Guardia del Mundodisco, de Terry Pratchett.
Quizá para mi el más flojito de las tres novelas que he leído de la guardia. Ojo, que no es malo en absoluto, pero venía de leer las anteriores que fueron sublimes para mi.
Cosas interesantes y que me han encantado son Jovial (Jovielle) Culopequeño (¡¡Culopequeño!!) y su "salida de la cueva". Ha sido uno de los momentos que más me ha hecho reír, sobre todo por cómo los señoros del libro (Ayyyy Zanahoria!!) iban respondiendo a los intentos de Culopequeño de dejarse ver.
Me ha gustado también como Pratchett embadurna esta situación con humor bastante sentido común. Recordamos que en la Guardia no hay hombres ni mujeres, solo guardias. El combo Angua-Culopequeño me ha encantado mucho, y el final me ha parecido un poco de lagrimita... a ver qué pasa en el siguiente.
Por otra parte, los golems. Geniales. Me maravilla mucho cómo van encajando las piezas (de barro, jé) cada vez que aparece una nueva raza/tipo de personaje. Y me encanta cómo Vimes va rechazando/acogiendo a todos en su pequeña familia... siempre y cuando no sean vampiros (los vampiros son lo peor).
Divertidísimo también el momento Nobby y su posible linaje real. Una partida de caja cuando se junta con los pijos. Pobrecito Nobby, que sólo quiere seguir fumando chustas y ponerse fino, y de repente se ve envuelto en una trama que ni le va ni le viene. Cantos de sirena para una clase obrera que no está por la labor. Genial.
Y mientras tanto, el bueno de Zanahoria sigue con su actitud que me encanta pero que, al mismo tiempo, desquicia a los demás. Sigue encantándome cómo trata a todo el mundo y cómo utiliza la ley para hacer el bien, aunque cada vez más entiendo a Angua.
Detritus estupendo, aunque sale poquito. Y sigo echando de menos muy fuerte a Errol.
El highlight (clarísimo) de este libro es:
"LAS PALABRAS QUE HAY EN EL CORAZÓN NO SE PUEDEN SACAR".
Ahora sí, me voy a dar un descansito de Pratchett y voy a comenzar a leer otras cosas, porque ya noto el cansancio y quiero disfrutármelo bien, bien, bien. ¿Alguna recomendación?
#books #bookstodon #libros #librostodon #recomendacionliteraria #mundodisco #terrypratchett
-
‘My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure,’ said Carrot.
‘Really? Well, there’s eleven of them.’
(Jingo) -
August Vibes should have been a Discworld character.
-
‘Oh, don’t blame yourself, Mrs. Ogg. I’m sure others will do that for you-’ (Carpe Jugulum)
-
It was just that she had preferred him when he’d been a Fool. There’s something about a man who tinkles gently as he moves. (Lords and Ladies)
-
Keep 'em busy. That was one of the three rules of being chief that old Grimm had passed on to him. Act confidently, never say 'I don't know,' and when all else fails, keep 'em busy.
-
The tortoise is a ground-living creature. It is impossible to live nearer the ground without being under it. Its horizons are a few inches away. It has about as good a turn of speed as you need to hunt down a lettuce. It has survived while the rest of evolution flowed past it by being, on the whole, no threat to anyone and too much trouble to eat. (Small Gods)
-
He wasn't certain what unisex was but expected that it was what he normally experienced. (Interesting Times)
-
Rincewind had always been happy to think of himself as a racist. The One Hundred Metres, the Mile, the Marathon – he’d run them all. (Last Continent)
-
… no one can outstare a witch, ‘cept a goat, of course.
(Equal Rites) -
It is said that the opposite of noise is silence. This isn’t true. Silence is only the absence of noise.
(The Light Fantastic) -
As they say in Discworld, we are trying to unravel the Mighty Infinite using a language which was designed to tell one another where the fresh fruit was.
-
Many feel they are called to the priesthood, but what they really hear is an inner voice saying, ‘It’s indoor work with no heavy lifting …’ (Small Gods)
-
She had got ‘diuerse’ out of the Almanack, which she read every night. It was always predicting ‘diuerse plagues’ and ‘diurse ill-fortune’. Granny wasn’t entirely sure what it meant but it was a damn good word all the same.
(Equal Rites)
