Discworld series read-through

I read a few of the Discworld books at the Birkenhead Library when I was younger. 

Every now and again quotes from some of the books would show up on The Internet, in particular the Sam Vimes ‘Boots’ Theory of Socio-Economic Unfairness.

Those quotes reminded me that I had enjoyed reading those few Discworld books when I was younger, so I decided to read all of the books.

I think I started the read-through in 2023 but I can’t find the receipts. (I’m buying all the books, original artwork where possible.)

If I started the read-through at the beginning of 2023 then I guess I’m on track to finish in 2027. Each book only takes about 3-4 evenings of reading time to finish, but I’m buying them just when I have spare time/spare cash/spare brain power for reading.

So yes, The World’s Slowest Binge-Read™.

Partway through I started making bookmarks on passages and quotes that stood out, and here’s a collection of those.

(I forgot to do that for the first few books. I’ll slowly catch up with the other notes I made, and eventually I’ll catch up to the book I most recently read.)

The Colour of Magic

Didn’t make any bookmarks. The colour of magic is ‘octarine’.

The Light Fantastic

Didn’t make any bookmarks. It’s a Rincewind story, so there probably would have been some good quotes.

Equal Rites

Didn’t make any bookmarks. It’s a Witches story, and Granny Weatherwax (a fave character) usually has some great quotes … woops.

Mort

Didn’t make anybook marks. It’s a Death story, and Death (a fave character) usually has some good quotes … woops again.

Sourcery

Long quote incoming, the main bit is highlighted.

‘He’s got a point,’ said Conina. ‘I’ve nothing against wizards, but it’s not as if they do much good. They’re just a bit of decoration, really. Up to now’.

Rincewind pulled off his hat. It was battered, stained, and covered with rock dust, bits of it had been sheared off, the point was dented and the star was shedding sequins like pollen, but the word ‘Wizzard’ was still just readable under the grime.

‘See this?’ he demanded, red in the face. ‘Do you see it? Do you? What does it tell you?’

‘That you can’t spell?’ said Nijel.

‘What? No! It says I’m a wizard, that’s what! Twenty years behind the staff, and proud of it! I’ve done my time, I have! I’ve pas— I’ve sat dozens of exams! If all the spells I’ve read were piled on top of one another, they’d … it’d … you’d have a lot of spells!’

‘Yes, but—‘ Conina began.

‘Yes?’

‘You’re not actually very good at them, are you?’

Rincewind glared at her. He tried to think of what to say next, and a small receptor area opened in his mind at the same time as an inspiration particle, its path bent and skewed by a trillion random events, screamed down through the atmosphere and burst silently at just the right spot.

‘Talent just defines what you do,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t define what you are. Deep down, I mean. When you know what you are, you can do anything.’

He thought a bit more and added, ‘That’s what makes sourcerers so powerful. The important thing is to know what you really are.’

There was a pause full of philosophy.

‘Rincewind?’ said Conina, kindly.

‘Hmm?’ said Rincewind, who was still wondering how the words got into his head.

‘You really are an idiot. Do you know that?’

Sourcery p205

Wyrd Sisters

A Witches story. Long quote incoming, the main bit is highlighted.

‘Mrs Vitoller,’ she said eventually, ‘may I make so bold as to ask if your union has been blessed with fruit?’

The couple looked blank.

‘She means—‘ Nanny Ogg began.

‘No, I see,’ said Mrs Vitoller, quietly. ‘No. we had a little girl once.’

A small cloud hung over the table. For a second or two Vitoller looked merely human-sized, and much older. He stared at the small pile of cash in front of him.

‘Only, you see, there is this child,’ said Granny, indicating the baby in Nanny Ogg’s arms. ‘And he needs a home.’

The Vitollers stared. Then the man sighed.

‘It is no life for a child,’ he said. ‘Always moving. Always a new town. And no room for schooling. They say that’s very important these days.’ But his eyes didn’t look away.

[…snipped a bit …]

Vitoller played abstractly with the coins in front of him. His wife reached out across the table and touched his hand, and there was a moment of unspoken communication. Granny looked away. She had grown expert at reading faces, but there were times when she preferred not to.

‘Money is, alas, tight—’ Vitoller began.

‘But it will stretch,’ said his wife firmly.

‘Yes, I think it will. We should be happy to take care of him.’

Granny nodded and fished in the deepest recesses of her cloak. At last she produced a small leather bag, which she tipped out on to the table. There was a lot of silver, and even a few tiny gold coins.

‘This should take care of—’ she groped – ‘nappies and such like. Clothes and things. Whatever.’

‘A hundred times over, I should think,’ said Vitoller weakly. ‘Why didn’t you mention this before?’

‘If I’d had to buy you, you wouldn’t be worth the price.’

Wyrd Sisters p54–55

Pyramids

No marks in this one. Wouldn’t say it’s my favourite, so far.

Guards! Guards!

No marks in this book, which is strange because I do like a good Sgt. Vimes socio-economic-commentary rant, and the antics of the various scallywags of the City Watch (Corporal Nobbs, Carrot, Sergeant Colon, etc.) are always humorous as well.

Eric

No marks in this, not even a crease or hint of a dog-ear.

Moving Pictures

The bookmarks return. Not really a favourite, but Gaspode the dog was funny.

‘Didn’t you want to be anything?’ said Ginger, putting a whole sentence-worth of disdain in a mere three letters.

‘Not really,’ said Victor. ‘Everything looks interesting until you do it. Then you find it’s just another job. I bet even people like Cohen the Barbarian get up in the morning thinking “Oh, no, not another day of crushing the jewelled thrones of the world beneath my sandalled feet.”’

‘Is that what he does?’ said Ginger, interested despite herself.

‘According to the stories, yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Search me. It’s just a job I guess.’

Moving Pictures, p171

It was dawning on the wizards that they were outside the university, at night and without permission, for the first time in decades. A certain suppressed excitement crackled from man to man. Any watcher trained in body language would have been prepared to bet that, after the click, someone was going to suggest that they might as well go somewhere and have a few drinks, and then someone else would fancy a meal, and there was always room for a few more drinks, and then it would be 5 a.m. and the city guards would be respectfully knocking on the University gates and asking if the Archchancellor would care to step down to the cells to identify some alleged wizards who were singing an obscene song in six-part harmony, and perhaps he would also care to bring some money to pay for all the damage. Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

Moving Pictures, p310-311

General theme here? “It really do be like that sometimes.”

(More to be added at a later date as The World’s Slowest Live-Blog™ continues.)