Most surprising read of the year so far for me. I've heard folks sing this book's praises for years, often as they lament that I started my Discworld journey with "The Colour of Magic".

"The books get so much better!"

"Just wait!"

But... I only grudgingly like this book. Pratchett's wit is there for sure, with some fine wordplay and memorable imagery. But I'm used to having some other elements that offset the dry cynicism: Rincewind's bumbling, Granny Weatherwax's stern but good-hearted one-liners, the hilarity of the Nac Mac Feegle. This book just feels full of people who hate themselves, living in a city that hates itself. It's the ugliness of the news delivered with the resigned, cynical snark of the internet age.

I suspect I'll steer clear of the City Watch storyline in the near future at least, and hope that this is just a bump in my otherwise thoroughly enjoyable Discworld explorations.