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The flotillas of the dead sailed around the world on underwater rivers.  | |
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"Can I not?" said Vetinari. "I am a tyrant. It's what we do." "Oh, *please* sue the University!" Ridcully bellowed. "We've got a *pond* full of people who tried to sue the University--" Neither Deluge Nor Ice Storm Nor The Black Silence Of The Netherhells Shall Stay These Messengers About Their Sacred Business. Do Not Ask Us About Sabre-Tooth Tigers, Tar Pits, Big Green Things With Teeth Or The Goddess Czol. "What? Funning? I never fun! I do not fun, Miss Maccalariat, and have no history of funning, and even if I were inclined to funning, Miss Maccalariat, I would not dream of funning with you." The man going to be hanged had been named Moist von Lipwig by doting if unwise parents, but he was not going to embarrass the name, insofar as that was possible, by being hung under it. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. But, in my experience, the best way to get something done is to give it to someone who is busy. | |
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▾References References to this work on external resources.  Wikipedia in English (3)
▾LibraryThing members' description
| Haiku summary |
It seems criminals
Are government workers, but
Are they any good?
(espadrile) | |
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▾Book descriptions Amazon.com Product Description (ISBN 0060502932, Mass Market Paperback)
Suddenly, condemned arch-swindler Moist von Lipwig found himself with a noose around his neck and dropping through a trapdoor into ... a government job? By all rights, Moist should be meeting his maker rather than being offered a position as Postmaster by Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork. Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may prove an impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him. Worst of all, it means taking on the gargantuan, greedy Grand Trunk clacks communication monopoly and its bloodthirsty piratical headman. But if the bold and undoable are what's called for, Moist's the man for the job -- to move the mail, continue breathing, get the girl, and specially deliver that invaluable commodity that every being, human or otherwise, requires: hope. (retrieved from Amazon Thu, 14 Feb 2013 13:27:16 -0500) (see all 7 descriptions) ▾Library descriptions Arch-swindler Moist Van Lipwig never believed his confidence crimes were hanging offenses-until he found himself with a noose tightly around his neck, dropping through a trapdoor, and falling into-a government job? By all rights, Moist should have met his maker. Instead, it's Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork, who promptly offers him a job as Postmaster. Since his only other option is a nonliving one, Moist accepts the position-and the hulking golem watchdog who comes along with it, just in case Moist was considering abandoning his responsibilities prematurely. Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may be a near-impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office building; and with only a few creaky old postmen and one rather unstable, pin-obsessed youth available to deliver it. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him.… (more) » see all 6 descriptions |
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However, everything leading up to it is far better. So many things went down, so many twists in the plot that, even though I knew the ending, I wondered how they were going to get there. Got to love the characters, especially Miss Dearheart and, yes, even the book version of Moist von Lipwig grew on me. But the golems are really the ones who steal my heart, especially Mr Pump and Anghammarad (you've got to love the deication of 19000-year-old man of clay). (