The book brings the funny, but in random, discrete packets. It’s a “chuckle occasionally” novel, where Pratchett was clearly still trying to find his feet as a satirist. Or something.
Because though this is the 9th Discworld novel, I still get the feeling Pratchett is trying to be a “serious” fantasy novelist, attacking the Big Questions (in this case, the folly of religious faith). But he’d also been noted as a guy who could occasionally get a laugh out of the reader, so there’s that element sneaking in too.
With the funny trying to compete with the serious this early in his career, neither come out well.
The concept of camels being good at the higher maths, funny. Sorta. And the mocking of the Greek philosophers felt good. But every time Pratchett shows religion as a creaky thing worthy of replacing in favor of – I’m not quite sure – all I see are the tired old saws from every man-about-town who’s got a religious bone to pick.
Maybe because I belong to a faith that isn’t as staid or, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because I’m a person of faith. Are there things wrong with religion and with those who adhere to them? Yes. Just as there are things wrong with scientists and those who adhere to science. Zealots of whatever strip tend to take things too far.
On that end, Pratchett really doesn’t say anything new. He gets better at it as his career progresses (although it’s amusing to see him take humanist stances that mirror my own religious beliefs; that would probably irritate him to no end.
Anyway. I’m pleased to have read some earlier Pratchett, if only to help me appreciate the latter Pratchett all the more.
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