Well, I could do a witty and observant introduction to this page - that would make you want to bookmark it and come back and read it every few days, just to remind yourself that this world isn`t entirely a lost cause. However the chances of you even reading this are so limited that I do`nt think I`ll bother..... *Ahem* oh - and the page title is so self-explanatory that theres really no need.
The Colour Of Magic
On a world supported on the back of a giant turtle (sex unknown), a gleeful, explosive, wickedly eccentric expedition sets out. There's an avaricious but inept wizard, a naive tourist whose luggage move on hundreds of dear little legs, dragons who only exist if you believe in them, and of course THE EDGE of the planet...
The Light Fantastic
As it moves towards a seemingly inevitable collision with a malevolent red star, the Discworld has only one possible saviour. Unfortunately, this happens to be the singularly inept and cowardly wizard called Rincewind, who was last seen falling off the edge of the world...
The last thing the wizard Drum Billet did, before Death laid a bony hand on his shoulder, was to pass on his staff of power to the eighth son of an eighth son. Unfortunately for his colleagues in the chauvinistic (not to say misogynistic) world of magic, he failed to check on the new-born baby's sex...
Death comes to us all. When he came to Mort, he offered him a job. After being assured that being dead was not compulsory, Mort accepted. However, he soon found that romantic longings did not mix easily with the responsibilities of being Death's apprentice...
There was an eighth son of an eighth son. He was quite naturally, a wizard. And there it should have ended. However (for reasons we'd better not go into), he had seven sons. And then he had an eighth son ... a wizard squared ... a source of magic ... a Sourcerer.
Witches are not by nature gregarius, and they certainly don't have leaders. Granny Weatherwax was the most highly-regarded of the leaders they didn't have. But even she found that meddling in royal politics was a lot more difficult than certain playwrights would have you believe...
Being trained by the Assassin's Guild in Ankh-Morpork did not fit Teppic for the task assigned to him by fate. He inherited the throne of the desert kingdom of Djelibeybi rather earlier than he expected (his father wasn't too happy about it either), but that was only the beginning of his problems...
This is where the dragons went. They lie... not dead, not asleep, but... dormant. And although the space they occupy isn't like normal space, nevertheless they are packed in tightly. They could put you in mind of a can of sardines, if you thought sardines were huge and scaly. And presumably, somewhere, there's a key...
Eric is the Discworld's only demonology hacker. Pity he's not very good at it. All he wants is his three wishes granted. Nothing fancy - to be immortal, rule the world, have the most beautiful woman in the world fall madly in love with him, the usual stuff. But instead of a tracable demon, he calls up Rincewind, probably the most incompetent wizard in the universe, and the extremely intractable and hostile form of travel accessory known as the Luggage. With them on his side, Eric's in for a ride through space and time that is bound to make him wish (quite fervently) again - this time that he'd never been born.
The alchemists of the Discworld have discovered the magic of the sliver screen. But what is the dark secret of Holy Wood hill? It's up to Victor Tugelbend ("Can't sing. Can't dance. Can handle a sword a little") and Theda Withel ("I come from a little town you've probably never heard of") to find out...
DEATH IS MISSING PRESUMED ... ER ... GONE. Which leads to the kind of chaos you always get when an important public service is withdrawn. Meanwhile, on a little farm far, far away, a tall dark stranger is turning out to be really good with a scythe. There's a harvest to be gathered in...
It seemed an easy job... After all, how difficult could it be to make sure that a servant girl doesn't marry a price? But for the witches Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick, travelling to the distant city of Genua, things are never that simple... Servant girls have to marry the price. That's what life is all about. You can't fight a Happy Ending. At least - up until now...
Lords And Ladies
THE FARIES ARE BACK - BUT THIS TIME THEY DON'T JUST WANT YOUR TEETH... Granny Weatherwax and her tiny coven are up against real elves. It's midsummer Night. No time for dreaming... With full supporting cast of dwarfs, wizards, trolls, Morris dancers and one orang-utan. And lots of hey-nonny-nonny and blood all over the place.
In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was: "Hey, you!" For Brutha the novice is the Chosen One. He wants peace and justice and brotherly love. He also wants the Inquisition to stop torturing him now, please...
Men At Arms
'Be a MAN in the City Watch! The City Watch needs MEN!' But what it's got includes Corporal Carrot (technically a dwarf), Lance-constable Cuddy (really a dwarf), Lance-constable Detritus (a troll), Lance-constable Angua (a woman...most of the time) and Corporal Nobbs (disqualified from the human race for shoving). And they need all the help they can get. Because there's evil in the air and murder afoot and something very nasty in the streets. It'd help if it could all be sorted out by noon, because that's when Captain Vimes is officially retiring, handing in his badge and getting married. And since this is Ankh-Morpork, noon promises to be not just high, but stinking.
Other children got given xylophones. Susan just had to ask her grandfather to take his vest off. Yes. There's a Death in the family. It's hard to grow up normally when Grandfather rides a white horse and wields a scythe - especially when you have to take over the family business, and everyone mistakes you for the Tooth Fairy. And especially when you have to face the new and addictive music that has entered the Discworld. It's lawless. It changes people. It's called Music With Rocks In. It's got a beat and you can dance to it, but... It's alive. And it won't fade away.
Mighty battles! Revolution! Death! War! (and his sons Terror and Panic, and daughter Clancy). The oldest and most inscrutable empire on the Discworld is in turmoil, brought about by the revolutionary treatise What I Did On My Holidays. Workers are uniting, with nothing to lose but their water buffaloes. Warlords are struggling for power. War (and Clancy) are spreading through the ancient cities. And all that stands in the way of terrible doom for everyone is: Rincewind the Wizard, who can't even spell the word 'wizard'... cohen the barbarian hero, five foot tall in his surgical sandles, who has had a lifetime's experience of not dying... ... and a very special butterfly.
The Opera House, Ankh-Morpork... ... a hugh, rambling building, where masked figures and hooded shadows do wicked deeds in the wings... ...where dying the death on stage is a little more than just a metaphor... ... where innocent young sopranos are lured to their destiny by an evil mastermind in a hideously deformed evening dress... Where ... ... there's a couple of old ladies in pointy hats eating peanuts in the gods and looking up at the big chandelier and saying things like: 'There's an accident waiting to happen if ever I saw one.' Yes ... Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg, the Discworld's greatest witches, are back for an innocent night out at the opera. So there's going to be trouble (but nevertheless a good evening's entertainment with murders you can really hum...).
Feet Of Clay
A Discworld Howdunnit Who's murdering harmless old men? Who's poisoning the Patrician? As autumn fogs hold Ankh-Morpork in their grip, the City Watch have to track down a murderer who can't be seen. Maybe the golems know something - but the solemn men of clay, who work all day and night and are never any trouble to anyone, have stared to commit suicide... It's not as if the Watch hasn't got problems of its own. There's a werewolf suffering from Pre-Lunar Tension. Corporal Nobbs is hob-nobbing with the nobs, and there's something really strange about the new dwarf recruit, especially his earrings and eyeshadow. Who can you trust when there are mobs on the streets and plotters in the dark and all the clues point the wrong way? In the gloom of the night, Watch Commander Sir Samuel Vimes finds that the truth might not be out there at all. It may be in amongst the words in the head. A chilling tale of poison and pottery
It's the night before Hogswatch. And it's too quiet. There's snow, there're robins, there're trees covered with decorations, but there's a notable lack of the big fat man who delivers the toys... He's gone. Susan the governess has got to find him before morning, otherwise the sun won't rise. And unfortunately her only helpers are a raven with an eyeball fixation, the Death of Rats and the oh god of hangovers. Worse still, someone is coming down the chimney. This time he's carrying a sack instead of a scythe, but there's something regrettably familiar... Ho. Ho. Ho. It's true what they say. 'You'd better watch out...'
A weathercock has risen from the sea of Discworld, and suddenly you can tell which way the wind is blowing. A new land has surfaced, and so have old fueds. And as two armies march, Commander Vimes of Ankh-Morpork City Watch has got just a few hours to deal with a crime so big that there's no law against it. It's called 'war'. He's facing unpleasant foes who are out to get him ... that's just the people on his side. The enemy might even be worse. And his pocket Dis-organizer says he's got Die under 'Things To Do Today'. But he'd better not, because the world's cleverest inventor and its most devious politician are on their way to the battlefield with a little package that's guaranteed to stop a battle ... Discworld goes to war, with armies of sardines, warriors, fishermen, squid and at least one very camp follower.