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4.28 AVERAGE
4.28 AVERAGE
adventurous
challenging
inspiring
reflective
fast-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:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
inspiring
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
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:
Yes
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
This was a good book and very very funny, I just wasn't as interested in the characters and story line.
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
A social parody that is an easy read and fun, read with full of witty remarks as usual.
I did not like that the main character was a bit too similar to the one in Pyramids, but it did not bother me that much.
I did not like that the main character was a bit too similar to the one in Pyramids, but it did not bother me that much.
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Characters – 9/10
Brutha is one of the best "All-Loving Hero" types I’ve ever followed, and that’s saying something in a world where most prophets are either firebrands or tragic martyrs. He starts the book as a "big dumb ox" who can quote the Septateuch word-for-word but can’t read, think for himself, or understand why Om seems more interested in being fed lettuce than receiving worship. And yet... he grows. Not just into a prophet, but into a revolutionary—one who changes his god. Watching Brutha become a character who can say, “Yes, he’s Vorbis. But I’m me,” with absolute conviction is a level of emotional payoff I didn’t know I needed. Om, as a grumpy tortoise god slowly learning compassion and humility, is a stroke of genius. Vorbis? Terrifying. He’s not just a villain; he’s a theological horror show, the living embodiment of dogma without doubt. The side cast—Didactylos, Simony, St. Ungulant and Angus (who may or may not exist)—are vivid in that signature Pratchett way: one line in and you know them.
Brutha is one of the best "All-Loving Hero" types I’ve ever followed, and that’s saying something in a world where most prophets are either firebrands or tragic martyrs. He starts the book as a "big dumb ox" who can quote the Septateuch word-for-word but can’t read, think for himself, or understand why Om seems more interested in being fed lettuce than receiving worship. And yet... he grows. Not just into a prophet, but into a revolutionary—one who changes his god. Watching Brutha become a character who can say, “Yes, he’s Vorbis. But I’m me,” with absolute conviction is a level of emotional payoff I didn’t know I needed. Om, as a grumpy tortoise god slowly learning compassion and humility, is a stroke of genius. Vorbis? Terrifying. He’s not just a villain; he’s a theological horror show, the living embodiment of dogma without doubt. The side cast—Didactylos, Simony, St. Ungulant and Angus (who may or may not exist)—are vivid in that signature Pratchett way: one line in and you know them.
Atmosphere / Setting – 9.5/10
Omnia is what you get when you throw inquisition-era Spain, the darker impulses of organized religion, and a turtle-shaped god into a blender. The setting is thick with dry heat, paranoia, and religious dread—but it’s not humorless. Ephebe, by contrast, is pure chaotic academic energy, full of philosophers drunkenly brawling over paradoxes and dodging divine lightning strikes. And the desert? The one in life, and the one after death? Chilling in a completely different way. I could practically hear the silence in Vorbis’s eternity. Even the gods’ home on Dunmanifestin has a distinct aura of cosmic bureaucracy. The setting enhances everything: the fear, the satire, the absurdity, and the moments of genuine grace.
Omnia is what you get when you throw inquisition-era Spain, the darker impulses of organized religion, and a turtle-shaped god into a blender. The setting is thick with dry heat, paranoia, and religious dread—but it’s not humorless. Ephebe, by contrast, is pure chaotic academic energy, full of philosophers drunkenly brawling over paradoxes and dodging divine lightning strikes. And the desert? The one in life, and the one after death? Chilling in a completely different way. I could practically hear the silence in Vorbis’s eternity. Even the gods’ home on Dunmanifestin has a distinct aura of cosmic bureaucracy. The setting enhances everything: the fear, the satire, the absurdity, and the moments of genuine grace.
Writing Style – 10/10
This is Pratchett at his sharpest—angry, yes, but also weirdly tender. The prose balances wit and weight like a tightrope walker balancing a holy text in one hand and a custard pie in the other. He takes shots at religious hypocrisy with one breath, then delivers a line so emotionally true it knocked the wind out of me (“But here and now, we are alive.”). The footnotes are divine comedy. The dialogue is pure gold—cut with irony, snark, and genuine sorrow. I felt like I was reading scripture written by someone who loves humanity more than any god in the book. And somehow, it never feels heavy-handed, just... true.
This is Pratchett at his sharpest—angry, yes, but also weirdly tender. The prose balances wit and weight like a tightrope walker balancing a holy text in one hand and a custard pie in the other. He takes shots at religious hypocrisy with one breath, then delivers a line so emotionally true it knocked the wind out of me (“But here and now, we are alive.”). The footnotes are divine comedy. The dialogue is pure gold—cut with irony, snark, and genuine sorrow. I felt like I was reading scripture written by someone who loves humanity more than any god in the book. And somehow, it never feels heavy-handed, just... true.
Plot – 8/10
It’s slow at times, but deliberately so. This isn’t a thriller; it’s a theological journey. The major beats—Brutha’s journey across the desert, his confrontation with Vorbis, Om regaining power by literally falling from the sky—are spaced out with philosophical musings and character growth that feel like movement even when the plot idles. The ending? One of the most satisfying I've read in the Discworld canon. A god regains his power and chooses to fight the other gods—not for more power, but to stop a war. Brutha dies old and loved, still himself, and guides Vorbis across the afterlife. That’s plot as character arc, and I loved it.
It’s slow at times, but deliberately so. This isn’t a thriller; it’s a theological journey. The major beats—Brutha’s journey across the desert, his confrontation with Vorbis, Om regaining power by literally falling from the sky—are spaced out with philosophical musings and character growth that feel like movement even when the plot idles. The ending? One of the most satisfying I've read in the Discworld canon. A god regains his power and chooses to fight the other gods—not for more power, but to stop a war. Brutha dies old and loved, still himself, and guides Vorbis across the afterlife. That’s plot as character arc, and I loved it.
Intrigue – 8.5/10
The hook isn't "what happens next" but "how far will Brutha go to remain himself?" That was more than enough to keep me invested. Sure, the politics and philosophical tangents occasionally slowed things down, but I kept returning—not because I needed answers, but because I needed to see how Brutha would respond. And when Om finally returns to godhood and uses that power to deliver a universal message—not of vengeance, but of presence—I was fully, completely in.
The hook isn't "what happens next" but "how far will Brutha go to remain himself?" That was more than enough to keep me invested. Sure, the politics and philosophical tangents occasionally slowed things down, but I kept returning—not because I needed answers, but because I needed to see how Brutha would respond. And when Om finally returns to godhood and uses that power to deliver a universal message—not of vengeance, but of presence—I was fully, completely in.
Logic / Relationships – 9/10
The gods are real. They exist because we believe in them, but the tragedy is: we don’t believe in them as gods. We believe in rituals. Institutions. Fear. The logic of that system—the way power corrupts belief and how belief creates power—is chillingly coherent. Brutha’s unwavering sincerity is a threat to that system, and it shows. His relationships, especially with Om and Simony, evolve in painful, honest ways. The book also tackles how charismatic authoritarianism (Vorbis) spreads like a moral contagion. And Brutha resists that—barely. That tension is earned and real.
The gods are real. They exist because we believe in them, but the tragedy is: we don’t believe in them as gods. We believe in rituals. Institutions. Fear. The logic of that system—the way power corrupts belief and how belief creates power—is chillingly coherent. Brutha’s unwavering sincerity is a threat to that system, and it shows. His relationships, especially with Om and Simony, evolve in painful, honest ways. The book also tackles how charismatic authoritarianism (Vorbis) spreads like a moral contagion. And Brutha resists that—barely. That tension is earned and real.
Enjoyment – 9.5/10
I didn’t enjoy this book the way I enjoy a cozy read. I revered it. I laughed (Om’s curses are masterful: “May your genitals sprout wings and fly away!”), I winced (hello, Iron Turtle), I cried (Brutha in the afterlife, holding Vorbis’s hand), and I cheered ("The turtle moves!"). It’s not just clever—it’s soul-deep. This is a book about faith that doesn’t ask you to have any, only to care. About people, about truth, about choosing decency when dogma offers cruelty. The humor never dulls the blade, and the blade never cuts without purpose.
I didn’t enjoy this book the way I enjoy a cozy read. I revered it. I laughed (Om’s curses are masterful: “May your genitals sprout wings and fly away!”), I winced (hello, Iron Turtle), I cried (Brutha in the afterlife, holding Vorbis’s hand), and I cheered ("The turtle moves!"). It’s not just clever—it’s soul-deep. This is a book about faith that doesn’t ask you to have any, only to care. About people, about truth, about choosing decency when dogma offers cruelty. The humor never dulls the blade, and the blade never cuts without purpose.
Final Average: 9.07 / 10 → 4.5 stars
Yup, this joins the upper pantheon. Small Gods isn’t just satire. It’s a theological gut-punch wrapped in tortoise shell and footnotes, with a prophet who teaches a god how to be human. Or at least, decent. And it makes me want to be a little better too. Not because I fear judgement. But because here and now—we are alive.
Yup, this joins the upper pantheon. Small Gods isn’t just satire. It’s a theological gut-punch wrapped in tortoise shell and footnotes, with a prophet who teaches a god how to be human. Or at least, decent. And it makes me want to be a little better too. Not because I fear judgement. But because here and now—we are alive.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal cruelty, Torture, Religious bigotry
Moderate: Emotional abuse, Violence, Xenophobia, Murder, Gaslighting, Colonisation, War
Minor: Animal death, Confinement, Cursing, Death, Fatphobia, Misogyny, Racism, Sexism, Slavery, Blood, Fire/Fire injury, Alcohol, Injury/Injury detail, Classism
While not graphically violent in the way of grimdark fantasy, Small Gods does contain disturbing scenes of torture and authoritarian cruelty—especially psychological and institutional. The emotional weight is significant, but much of the horror is left to implication rather than visceral description. The story critiques religious extremism and authoritarianism through satire, so themes of indoctrination, abuse of power, and ideological violence are central. It’s ultimately a hopeful and humane book—but it doesn’t flinch from darkness on the way there.
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
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:
Yes