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4.29 AVERAGE
4.29 AVERAGE
adventurous
dark
funny
hopeful
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
This is the best Discworld novel I've read so far. It also happens to be the darkest. In this novel, hilarity, absurdity and mad Pratchett-style comedy are present as ever but take a notable back seat to one of the more grimmer stories in the Discworld series. It feels rather like an outlier in Pratchett's general style (one will note a general restraint in terms of footnotes) and probably should not be recommended as an introduction to Discworld.
When I say this is Pratchett's most mature novel, I don't mean only in terms of a small scaling back of absurd comedy (as in the City Watch subseries) or darker subject matter. It's the craft of writing that seems to have changed as well. Filling the pages are some of Pratchett's best prose; with less righteous anger than Going Postal and fewer pointed commentaries than Small Gods. Here, the author's tone is somewhat more detached, allowing the harsh inequities of Borogvia love of ignorance, war and misogyny to find there way to the reader all on their own. These injustices are pervasive throughout the setting of the novel, and yet Pratchett treats them with a very deft hand, as he does with the wonderful cast of characters, which are fantastically realized, flawed, and somewhat provincial beings not entirely aware of the great tale of social satire they find themselves swept up in. There can be no question as to the prevailing theme of the novel, but it's delivered in a far subtler manner than ever before. There are still the cute aphorisms at play as well as a particular moment of utter hilarity in which our protagonist is fighting against being literally relegated to the kitchens, but Pratchett largely allows the events to speak for themselves. This is a story of disenfranchised women taking hold of their agency in the only means still available to them - through the guise of male soldiers. And yet one would be mistaken for thinking this is some girl-boss plot with an omniscient and hyper-progressive protagonist. While the general stupidity and myopia of male soldiers and the patriarchy are a popular source of humour in the book, it does not hesitate from introducing nuances: namely internalized misogyny, false starts of empowerment where progress is subsumed by symbolism and gender dysmorphia.
If there is any minor flaw in this novel it comes in the last third. The novel has one key trick to play and it does so with startling emotional resonance in the first half of the book - equal parts clever and heartbreaking. The problem is that the continued recurrence of this device loses a bit of its effectiveness, despite the fact that its clear WHY the author is choosing to use it. And as is the case with most Discworld novels, the ending runs a tad bit too long but overall leaves the reader with a wonderful sense of having gone on a transformational journey with the main characters - a transformation which sadly outpaces any larger societal promises of reformation. And yet, not all hope is loss. While Pratchett correctly anticipates society's flexibility in converting subversive ideas to empty gestures (the kisses don't last), the characters leave off with a poignant lasting moment of revelation; very large themes move by very small stories, and yet these characters come to understand that they are part of a larger work and that caring for small things starts with caring for big things. They are simply the latest rogues in a story of long defiance that began long before Polly Perks donned the uniform and became Oliver, and that will go on long after the conclusion of the novel. And so Pratchett gives us an ending only the very best novelists can provide - full of nihilism and yet of hope.
When I say this is Pratchett's most mature novel, I don't mean only in terms of a small scaling back of absurd comedy (as in the City Watch subseries) or darker subject matter. It's the craft of writing that seems to have changed as well. Filling the pages are some of Pratchett's best prose; with less righteous anger than Going Postal and fewer pointed commentaries than Small Gods. Here, the author's tone is somewhat more detached, allowing the harsh inequities of Borogvia love of ignorance, war and misogyny to find there way to the reader all on their own. These injustices are pervasive throughout the setting of the novel, and yet Pratchett treats them with a very deft hand, as he does with the wonderful cast of characters, which are fantastically realized, flawed, and somewhat provincial beings not entirely aware of the great tale of social satire they find themselves swept up in. There can be no question as to the prevailing theme of the novel, but it's delivered in a far subtler manner than ever before. There are still the cute aphorisms at play as well as a particular moment of utter hilarity in which our protagonist is fighting against being literally relegated to the kitchens, but Pratchett largely allows the events to speak for themselves. This is a story of disenfranchised women taking hold of their agency in the only means still available to them - through the guise of male soldiers. And yet one would be mistaken for thinking this is some girl-boss plot with an omniscient and hyper-progressive protagonist. While the general stupidity and myopia of male soldiers and the patriarchy are a popular source of humour in the book, it does not hesitate from introducing nuances: namely internalized misogyny, false starts of empowerment where progress is subsumed by symbolism and gender dysmorphia.
If there is any minor flaw in this novel it comes in the last third. The novel has one key trick to play and it does so with startling emotional resonance in the first half of the book - equal parts clever and heartbreaking. The problem is that the continued recurrence of this device loses a bit of its effectiveness, despite the fact that its clear WHY the author is choosing to use it. And as is the case with most Discworld novels, the ending runs a tad bit too long but overall leaves the reader with a wonderful sense of having gone on a transformational journey with the main characters - a transformation which sadly outpaces any larger societal promises of reformation. And yet, not all hope is loss. While Pratchett correctly anticipates society's flexibility in converting subversive ideas to empty gestures (the kisses don't last), the characters leave off with a poignant lasting moment of revelation; very large themes move by very small stories, and yet these characters come to understand that they are part of a larger work and that caring for small things starts with caring for big things. They are simply the latest rogues in a story of long defiance that began long before Polly Perks donned the uniform and became Oliver, and that will go on long after the conclusion of the novel. And so Pratchett gives us an ending only the very best novelists can provide - full of nihilism and yet of hope.
Llegar a la parte de las lavanderas y no parar hasta terminar el libro (y son más de 10o páginas) es algo que ya me ha ocurrido las dos veces anteriores que he leído este libro. Y que me ocurrirá dentro de unos años, cuando regrese a él, estoy segurísimo.
Este es, sin duda, uno de mis libros favoritos del Mundodisco. No sé si el que más (tiene una feroz competencia con varios tomos), pero sí está en el top 3, creo yo. La parodia/adaptación/retelling fantástico/como queramos llamarlo de Terry Pratchett homenajeando a Mulán y a Juana de Arco (y la recuperación de Orleans) es magnífica. Es uno de los tomos donde más se nota el carácter libertario que caracterizaba a Pratchett: las referencias al personaje obviamente trans que hay, al travestismo, al pecado y a la infracción de este, al imperialismo y la expansión económica y territorial, a la prensa como cuarto poder (ya presentada en La verdad y que aquí es determinante).
Creo que este tomo es uno de los que más favorece a Sam Vimes. Porque lo vemos desde la perspectiva de un narrador que no lo conoce, que sólo ve ciertos gestos puntuales y ata cabos al final Es el Carnicero, pero también el que transmite la política territorial de Ankh Morpork y, al mismo tiempo, un romántico empedernido que hace lo correcto y cree en las gestas. Supongo que por eso se considera parte de la saga de la Guardia, a pesar de que su intervención es casi testimonial (y memorable, tanto Reg, como Angua como Buggy, a pesar de sus escasas apariciones).
Las carcajadas del segundo tercio del tomo se ven sustituidas por la emoción y las lágrimas del final. Siempre digo que uno de los problemas del Mundodisco como novelas (y de Pratchett como autor) es cerrar los finales, que no siempre le quedan bien (tiende a precipitarlos), pero aquí no se nota tanto la precipitación y juega muy muy bien con la emoción, con el final abierto, con la imaginación de qué ha cambiado y qué cambiará, con las revelaciones. Lo hace un tomo redondísimo.
Mención especial a lo guays que son los personajes de Jackrum, Pirao, Polly y, sobre todo, Maladicto.
Este es, sin duda, uno de mis libros favoritos del Mundodisco. No sé si el que más (tiene una feroz competencia con varios tomos), pero sí está en el top 3, creo yo. La parodia/adaptación/retelling fantástico/como queramos llamarlo de Terry Pratchett homenajeando a Mulán y a Juana de Arco (y la recuperación de Orleans) es magnífica. Es uno de los tomos donde más se nota el carácter libertario que caracterizaba a Pratchett: las referencias al personaje obviamente trans que hay, al travestismo, al pecado y a la infracción de este, al imperialismo y la expansión económica y territorial, a la prensa como cuarto poder (ya presentada en La verdad y que aquí es determinante).
Creo que este tomo es uno de los que más favorece a Sam Vimes. Porque lo vemos desde la perspectiva de un narrador que no lo conoce, que sólo ve ciertos gestos puntuales y ata cabos al final Es el Carnicero, pero también el que transmite la política territorial de Ankh Morpork y, al mismo tiempo, un romántico empedernido que hace lo correcto y cree en las gestas. Supongo que por eso se considera parte de la saga de la Guardia, a pesar de que su intervención es casi testimonial (y memorable, tanto Reg, como Angua como Buggy, a pesar de sus escasas apariciones).
Las carcajadas del segundo tercio del tomo se ven sustituidas por la emoción y las lágrimas del final. Siempre digo que uno de los problemas del Mundodisco como novelas (y de Pratchett como autor) es cerrar los finales, que no siempre le quedan bien (tiende a precipitarlos), pero aquí no se nota tanto la precipitación y juega muy muy bien con la emoción, con el final abierto, con la imaginación de qué ha cambiado y qué cambiará, con las revelaciones. Lo hace un tomo redondísimo.
Mención especial a lo guays que son los personajes de Jackrum, Pirao, Polly y, sobre todo, Maladicto.
adventurous
challenging
funny
inspiring
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
Decent yarn, but not that engaging. More agenda (and not a particularly complex agenda, either - something about how more women in charge would mean less war?) than plot or character. I just still don't understand why Terry Pratchett is some of my favorite people's favorite author. This is my second book by him and I doubt I'll remember it any better than the first.
adventurous
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
adventurous
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
adventurous
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
"A woman always has half an onion left over, no matter what the size of the onion, the dish or the woman.”
I adored this book.
I adored this book.
A little more obvious and heavy-handed than most Pratchett, but you can understand why a man writing a book about gender took this direction. Still excellent. The book's take on nationalism, particularly the comparison between Ankh-Morporkian and British/US foreign policy, were as good as ever. I found Lieutenant Blouse to be all too relatable.
adventurous
challenging
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
In my opinion one of Discworld’s best.