The Colour of Magic – Terry Pratchett

Books / September 21, 2005 / John / 2

I just know this is going to irk the purists, but then what are purists for if not irking, eh?

Finished this last night. Well, I actually finished it about twenty years ago, but I saw it on the shelf and thought – ‘ohhhh, I liked that as a lad, I’ll read it again’.

What a load of unfunny, contrived, and self indulgent wank. No, really. I’m not a fast reader – I generally like to take my time with things. But by God, I’ve been reading this one for AEONS. This isn’t always a bad thing, of course – sometimes a book has a big story so takes longer to ingest. Not like Stephen King – that’s padding. I’m thinking Lord of the Rings or the Grapes of Wrath. BIG stories. The Colour of Magic is neither big nor BIG. There seems to be some trickery somewhere.

I was thinking about it last night – the thing is, I read in bed before going to sleep. As you do. I generally read for quite a long time as well. It has taken me five days to read the last few pages of this book. Last night, I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Terry Pratchett himself was hiding under my bed with his stupid fecking hat and long coat on, frantically typing away. Every night I’d put the book down and he’d wait till I was asleep and stick another couple of pages of drivel in the back of it.

And it wasn’t even funny or interesting. It was just a real bloody chore. As I said right at the start, I really enjoyed this book a few years back. I think there must have been something wrong with me. Or maybe there is now. After all, one hundred million sheeple can’t be wrong.

John

UNIX geek, wannabe cook, musician, book-lover, and all round good-guy.