Going Postal

Terry Pratchett died early this year, which was the first I'd heard of him. Having now read Going Postal, I have to count this a fortunate discovery. Life imitates art I suppose. Moist von Ludwig, the main character of this novel, also dies at the beginning. Moist also ends up clad in the golden garb of the wing-footed messenger god, Hermes, which is one of the rebrandings we've been toying around with for GiveToken.

Going Postal takes place in a somewhat absurd version of our own world. They have golems made of clay, vampires, werewolves and other ridiculous creatures. They have signal towers to communicate over long distances, but the technology to bend space. Oh, and a little magic thrown in for good measure.

Pratchett writes in an upbeat if somewhat dystopian manner, evidencing that same British sense of humor which gave the world Monthy Python. You know, that sketch comedy group that is the namesake of the python programming language used by data scientists the world over. I hope there wasn't more that was edited out to dumb it down for an American audience. (I read a version published in America). I still find it to be a travesty that the publishing world feels the need to alter our common language into a more local vernacular when transporting works across the pond.

The town in need of a postmaster is Ankh-Morpark; ruled by a lord with an appropriately Italian sounding name in what appears to be a world of city states. Moist fills the role of postmaster and, although he has no choice in the matter, sets out to rebuild the dilapitated post office and deliver the letters which fill its halls before they drive him insane. Yes, words, at least the written one it seems, carry some magic in this world Pratchett created.

Fortunately there are 40 more discworld novels to go...