(Discworld Novel 13)
The thirteenth Discworld novel.
‘Just because you can’t explain it, doesn’t mean it’s a miracle.’
Religion is a controversial business in the Discworld. Everyone has their own opinion, and indeed their own gods. Who come in all shapes and sizes. In such a competitive environment, there is a pressing need to make one’s presence felt. And it’s certainly not remotely helpful to be reduced to be appearing in the form of a tortoise, a manifestation far below god-like status in anyone’s book. In such instances, you need an acolyte, and fast. Preferably one who won’t ask too many questions…
“'Deftly weaves themes of forgiveness, belief and spiritual regeneration....While other writers gnaw at violence, sexuality and rootless despair' ”
“'An intriguing satire on institutionalized religion corrupted by power, crackling with one-liners while obliquely suggesting that maybe gods are only as powerful as the beliefs of their followers'”
“'Spectacular inventiveness make the Discworld series one of the perennial joys of modern fiction'”
Mail on Sunday