i have recently joined the legions of adoring fans, the multitude of ardent admirers, the throngs of reveling readers of the marvelous Terry Pratchett.

here's a walking and talking repository of razor wit, who has bowled me full over with his insanely funny Discworld novels. honestly, you haven't caught me on one of his books yet, if not you would be throwing worried glances in my direction as the hysterics overcome me, possibly checking me in to a mental health institution if i was in a particularly good mood to begin with.

he phrases the most mundane of sentences in a brilliant way, more like that of a corkscrew or even a lunatic scribbling mess that a woowoo (i.e. mental patient) produces with some floor and a chalk. out of the totally berserk clauses and paragraphs, he chucks guffaw-inducing imagery and metaphors at you like a knife-thrower with a grudge.

then comes the thorough and amazing detailing and plumping up of the imaginary territory of Discworld, held up by Great A'Tuin the Great Sky Turtle, what more can i say? Discworld and its various quirks are mapped out intricately in the novels, and pervading many of them are the issues dealt with in any civilisation, modern or prehistoric.

he comes up with the most wacky characters and plots, and in many novels the lives of the many characters overlap. reading a book about the witches can bring you to a scene involving Commander Vimes or the Librarian of the Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork, who incidentally happens to be an orang-utan.

so heed the call to laugh your brain cells to death, and read the phenomena that is Discworld.