My rating: 2 of 5 stars
In this installment of Discworld, Pratchett explores religion and bigotry, and with a fairly weighted hand. One might even say with a 20lb sledgehammer. His usual wry and farcical sense of humour was lost under the weight of his indictment of organized religion and racial ignorance, and I couldn’t help but feel he used the story as his own personal lectern from which to broadcast, and that frankly he just tried too hard with this one. All of that is perfectly understandable and within an author’s right. In fact, I quite agree with Pratchett’s condemnation. It’s just that I couldn’t help but feel he might have chosen a different vehicle; but then humour is such a personal and weird category.
Worth reading? Sure. But not one of the better crafted stories of the series, in my opinion.