Making Money
Terry Pratchett
After doing battle with and scheduling the anarchy of the Ankh-Morpork Post Office, Moist Von Lipwig finds himself trapped in an endless cycle of tedium. Before madness sets in, however, he finds himself being put in charge of something bigger and, incredibly, more dangerous: the Mint and Royal Bank of the city. He must bring the sleeping giant once again to the light of functionality without succuming to any of the numerous attempts on his life. Once again, he's got to keep on his toes and he's loving every minute of it.
If we must be brutally honest, this book will never be high in my ranking of Discworld. It gets off to a bit of a shaky start which, at the end, somehow preempts any of the raging awesome that normally overwhelms the reader from taking hold. Probably about a third into the book is when we really start feeling the familiar tingle, but because it almost feels...unbalanced, the novel is simply does not rock.
Don't mistake my meaning--it is lightyears beyond Eric and most likely a leap and a bound beyond The Colour of Magic [not bad, just early], but this book is really just small potatoes.
Another of my issues was, as previously mentioned, pacing. The second is actually language. Pratchett does not often use swear words and because it is uncommon, when such words appear [if infrequently] in Making Money, they felt, well, alien. Because of this, they break the hold, the willing suspension of disbelief that we hear about so frequently and ruins any momentum that has been built.
My finaly complaint is one that, undoubtedly, is my own fault. I regularly find that the indefatigable Mr. Pratchett sets up his ludicrously complex and intertwyined plots with abounding details that give the reader a fighting chance, should they so desire, to figure things out. These details were fewer and even far between in this novel. Or perhaps there simply was not enough going on to warrant them.
To be brutally honest, I don't know. What I do know is that, for the past three weeks, I have consistantly worked 50-60+ hour weeks [total, at my two jobs], and whatever my brother might say, that is more than enough to whip my brain to mush.
Wrap up? Second Moist story: meh. I loved the first. Umpteenth Discworld novel, adore 90% of them.
Final conclusion? It's a Pratchett. Of course you should read it.
Terry Pratchett
After doing battle with and scheduling the anarchy of the Ankh-Morpork Post Office, Moist Von Lipwig finds himself trapped in an endless cycle of tedium. Before madness sets in, however, he finds himself being put in charge of something bigger and, incredibly, more dangerous: the Mint and Royal Bank of the city. He must bring the sleeping giant once again to the light of functionality without succuming to any of the numerous attempts on his life. Once again, he's got to keep on his toes and he's loving every minute of it.
If we must be brutally honest, this book will never be high in my ranking of Discworld. It gets off to a bit of a shaky start which, at the end, somehow preempts any of the raging awesome that normally overwhelms the reader from taking hold. Probably about a third into the book is when we really start feeling the familiar tingle, but because it almost feels...unbalanced, the novel is simply does not rock.
Don't mistake my meaning--it is lightyears beyond Eric and most likely a leap and a bound beyond The Colour of Magic [not bad, just early], but this book is really just small potatoes.
Another of my issues was, as previously mentioned, pacing. The second is actually language. Pratchett does not often use swear words and because it is uncommon, when such words appear [if infrequently] in Making Money, they felt, well, alien. Because of this, they break the hold, the willing suspension of disbelief that we hear about so frequently and ruins any momentum that has been built.
My finaly complaint is one that, undoubtedly, is my own fault. I regularly find that the indefatigable Mr. Pratchett sets up his ludicrously complex and intertwyined plots with abounding details that give the reader a fighting chance, should they so desire, to figure things out. These details were fewer and even far between in this novel. Or perhaps there simply was not enough going on to warrant them.
To be brutally honest, I don't know. What I do know is that, for the past three weeks, I have consistantly worked 50-60+ hour weeks [total, at my two jobs], and whatever my brother might say, that is more than enough to whip my brain to mush.
Wrap up? Second Moist story: meh. I loved the first. Umpteenth Discworld novel, adore 90% of them.
Final conclusion? It's a Pratchett. Of course you should read it.
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