A review by dark_reader
The Truth by Terry Pratchett

5.0

Six stars! I think this was the best Discworld novel yet (in publication order). Taking place entirely in Ankh-Morpork and intersecting with the Watch sub-series, technically this is part of the "Industrial Revolution" subseries (NB: none of these sub-series designations were made by Pratchett or his publishers) and though it lightly references some of the worst prior Discworld novels which happened to fall in that line ([b:Moving Pictures|34510|Moving Pictures (Discworld, #10; Industrial Revolution, #1)|Terry Pratchett|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320456553l/34510._SY75_.jpg|1229354] in particular), it represents a new wave of peak Discworld.

The Truth introduces newspapers to Ankh-Morpork.

If in recent memory you have sent or received an email in that begins with "Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd:" you might remember newspapers. Think of them like a non-fiction book rolled out really thin. It's what past generations used to ignore each other at the breakfast table before the advent of smartphones. Ask a grandparent about them.

This, the 25th Discworld book, is a perfect entry point for new Disc-curious readers. It is largely self-contained, with brilliant brand new characters in one-time starring roles. It explores themes of truthiness, public opinion, justice, the role of the media and how it interacts with government and law enforcement, and racial prejudice. It gives us the Disc's best vampire character to date (NB: not shiny). I don't know that I can pin down quite what makes it the best series book to date, other than its fabulous pacing, interaction of characters new and old, and topical material.

One passage in particular has stuck with me during the twenty-some years since I last read it. In this scene, several wealthy and powerful Ankh-Morpork guild leaders, led by zombie lawyer Mr. Slant, confront the main character, William de Worde, with the intent of shutting down his newspaper. This takes place in his press room, where the dwarf Mr. Goodmountain can assemble type as quickly as one can speak:

"Then who is running the city?" he said.

"I don't know know," said Mr. Slant. "That is not my concern. I—"

"Mr. Goodmountain?" said William. "Large type, please".

"Got you," said the dwarf. His hand hovered over a fresh case.

"In caps, size to fit, 'Who Runs Ankh-Morpork?'" said William. "Now into body type, upper and lowercase, across two columns: 'Who is governing the city while Lord Vetinari is imprisoned? Asked for an opinion today, a leading legal figure said he did not know and it was no concern of his. Mr. Slant of the Lawyers' Guild went on to say—'"

"You can't put that in your newspaper!" barked Slant.

"Set that directly, please, Mr. Goodmountain."

[. . .]

"Mr. Slant went on to say . . .?" said William, glaring at the lawyer.

"You will find it very hard to print that," said Mr. Carney, ignoring the lawyer's frantic hand signals, "with no damn press!"

". . . was the view of Mr. Carney of the Guild of Engravers,' spelled with an e before the y," said William, "'who earlier today tried to put the Times out of business by means of an illegal document.'" William realized that, although his mouth felt full of acid, he was enjoying this immensely. "Asked for his opinion of this flagrant abuse of the city laws, Mr. Slant said . . .'?"

"STOP TAKING DOWN EVERYTHING WE SAY!" yelled Slant.

I don't know if this has the same impact out of the blue, but I have been enduringly tickled by the prospect of live-printing a conversation in this manner as a weapon. Call it proto-live tweeting.