Ankh-Morpork è la città più grande del Mondo Disco, che è un mondo piatto che vaga nello spazio, sorretto da quattro elefanti che poggiano sul guscio di una tartaruga gigante... Ad Ankh-Morpork tutto è in vendita, i ladri rubano solamente su appuntamento, gli assassini pagano regolarmente le tasse, i testi magici della Biblioteca dell'Università Invisibile vengono incatenati agli scaffali per impedire che scappino e le guardie non devono arrestare nessuno. O almeno, di solito è così... Non ci sono molto crimini; pochissimi omicidi. Casomai suicidi; perché andare in giro di notte per Ankh-Morpork cos'è se non un suicidio? In ogni caso, anche Ankh-Morpork ha la sua brava Guardia Cittadina, notturna e diurna, composta da capitano Vimes, sergente Colon, caporale Carota, appuntato Detritus, per difendere la città dall'assalto di orde barbariche, o cose del genere...
Sir Terence David John Pratchett was an English author, humorist, and satirist, best known for the Discworld series of 41 comic fantasy novels published between 1983–2015, and for the apocalyptic comedy novel Good Omens (1990), which he co-wrote with Neil Gaiman. Pratchett's first novel, The Carpet People, was published in 1971. The first Discworld novel, The Colour of Magic, was published in 1983, after which Pratchett wrote an average of two books a year. The final Discworld novel, The Shepherd's Crown, was published in August 2015, five months after his death. With more than 100 million books sold worldwide in 43 languages, Pratchett was the UK's best-selling author of the 1990s. He was appointed an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) in 1998 and was knighted for services to literature in the 2009 New Year Honours. In 2001 he won the annual Carnegie Medal for The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, the first Discworld book marketed for children. He received the World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement in 2010. In December 2007 Pratchett announced that he had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. He later made a substantial public donation to the Alzheimer's Research Trust (now Alzheimer's Research UK, ARUK), filmed three television programmes chronicling his experiences with the condition for the BBC, and became a patron of ARUK. Pratchett died on 12 March 2015, at the age of 66.
Guards Guards was the first Nightwatch novel and it introduced Sam Vimes, Constable Carrot, Corporal Nobbs and Sergeant Colon. I think I preferred Vimes in that book; as a washed out, demotivated, middle-aged drunk. It was a more realistic model to aspire towards than his incarnation in later books as a sober cigar aficionado.
Like many of the earlier Pratchett books, this is more of a parody of fantasy tropes, in this case the kinds of background characters who are usually disposed of in short order by the hero of a different kind of story altogether. Here, however, the humble guardsmen are given centre stage in a city where the crime rates are agreed and settled between the administration and criminal guilds leaving traditional policing redundant. Luckily the arrival of a lovelorn dragon shakes things up a bit.
The Watch stories tend to play off ideas and issues from modern urban life and the police procedural in a fantasy setting, so in Men at Arms the issue of ethnic/species diversity in the police force is played out for laughs. A recurrent theme is the spread of order,the ideals of the law and of equality and fraternity before the law, as manifested through policing.
In contrast to this is the notion of the charisma of kingship. A running joke and part of the plot of Men at Arms, Feet of Clay and in Guards! Guards! is that Carrot is in fact the rightful king of Ankh-Morpork. Luckily for the resolution of the story he is himself seduced by the model of policing that Vimes represents.
Something that I liked about the release of Terry Pratchett books was that A.S. Byatt would be rolled out to speak up in their defence, as she was a fan, as though enjoying a book was not enough to justify reading it, that one needs a special dispensation from a literary pope to read certain kinds of books. Then again I've bought and disposed of his books myself - feeling that their biscuit and a cup of tea quality doesn't earn them lasting shelf space but your mileage may vary.
Definitely 5 stars. Actually, all of these omnibuses are 5 star quality, except perhaps the one about Rincewind. Not very reader friendly, mind you, but they definitely look great on the shelf. I found feet of clay the least interesting but atill it was really good, especially the last 30 odd pages. I didn't think I would say this but I enjoyed the adventures of the City Watch more than those of Death. Yeah, it is that good
La mia saga in assoluto preferita della produzione di mondo disco di terry pratchett. Questa riedizione ha migliorato secondo me la già ottima traduzione delle precedenti singole edizioni, merita tantissimo ed è il miglior modo di approcciarsi all'universo del mondo disco.
Trittico di romanzi incentrati sulla Guardia Cittadina di Ankh-Morpork. Vimes, Nobby e Colon vedono crescere i propri ranghi prima con l'Appuntato Carota e poi con Detritus, Angua, e altre reclute. Sullo sfondo la politica complessa della città gestita con astuzia Machiavellica da Lord Vetinari, mentre in primo piano abbiamo le avventure delle guardie, alle prese con Draghi, misteriosi omicidi e vari tentativi di golpe per restaurare la monarchia. Difficile descrivere quanto mi sia goduto questo volume: è satira di altissimo livello. Pratchett ha dato veramente il massimo, non ci sono punti morti, non ci sono 2 pagine di fila senza qualche trovata divertente e geniale. Sembra impossibile che si possano scrivere più di 820 pagine senza causare il minimo calo di attenzione nel lettore. E' uno di quei libri che rimpiango di aver finito.
Solitamente diffido dalla lettura fantasy, mediamente ritengo i libri scritti maluccio, personaggi e trame intrappolati nei soliti cliché. Per Pratchett avevo aspettative diverse, che non ha deluso.
Trilogia originale, divertente, ti strappa continuamente un sorriso regalando anche riflessioni interessanti. Promosso a pieni voti, anche da un lettore non super fan dei fantasy.
Guards! Guards! – When Fantasy Meets Anarchic Satire Why begin your journey through Pratchett here?
If you’ve never read Terry Pratchett before (first of all, shame on you, and secondly, what on Discworld have you been doing with your time?), Guards! Guards! makes for a splendid entry point. It demands no prior knowledge of the Discworld universe, yet it encapsulates everything that renders Pratchett’s writing so inimitable: razor-sharp satire, disarming humour, and — surprise! — unexpected emotional maturity.
Take a deep breath, and what on Earth is the Discworld? (for the uninitiated)
A fantastical world — flat, of course — that floats through the cosmos on the backs of four elephants, themselves standing upon a giant spacefaring turtle, the Great A’Tuin. Think less “YouTube conspiracy nonsense” and more “mythopoetic genius filtered through Monty Python”.
A distorted mirror of our own world, the Discworld is saturated with satire on politics, religion, bureaucracy, and the sheer idiocy of humankind. There is, incidentally, an excellent four-book series delving into the science of Discworld, which deserves your attention.
The series itself is composed of distinct narrative cycles: Wizards, Witches, Death, the City Watch, and others. There is no need to read the books in strict publication order; each cycle possesses its own internal coherence.
Right, now to the matter at hand: "People don't want justice. They just want to feel better." Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!
Guards! Guards!, the eighth Discworld novel and the first of the City Watch cycle, was published in 1989 and has since become one of Pratchett’s most beloved works — deservedly so.
The plot might be described as a fairy tale that has been forcibly processed through the bureaucratic mincer and seasoned with irony: a secret brotherhood — the Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night (quite) — endeavours to overthrow the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork by unleashing a dragon upon the city. The aim? To conjure a faux-chosen king to heroically slay said dragon and assume the throne.
Naturally, things go awry when the dragon decides to cut out the middleman, declares itself ruler, and begins demanding gold and virgins for sacrifice. What is most revealing — and chillingly relevant — is that the city, as a whole, accepts this turn of events with little resistance. Pratchett, ever the subversive moralist, reminds us how readily society accommodates absurdity when it is presented with sufficient ceremony and conviction.
At the centre of the narrative stands Sergeant Samuel Vimes, a washed-up pessimist whose relationship with heroism is, at best, estranged. Vimes embodies both the erosion of authority and a flickering, stubborn spark of dignity that refuses to be extinguished. Beside him stands new recruit Carrot Ironfoundersson — six foot six, raised by dwarfs, and pathologically committed to The Law — whose guileless integrity proves both infectious and quietly revolutionary.
Lady Sybil Ramkin, aristocrat and breeder of swamp dragons, emerges as a force of her own, while the Librarian of the Unseen University — an orangutan, as any properly educated reader should recall from The Colour of Magic / The Light Fantastic (though yes, we’ve established you’re starting now) — serves as a reminder that neither magic nor life is especially beholden to logic.
Despite its comic façade, Guards! Guards! explores weighty themes: the abuse of power, the silent tyranny of habit, the illusion of the “chosen one”, and the quiet, stubborn nobility of doing what is right — not because it will change the world, but because it is, quite simply, the only thing that matters.
The novel deconstructs the classic sword & sorcery archetype with unerring precision, only to replace it with something far more truthful: a world in which heroes wear uniforms no one respects and uphold laws not because they are convenient, but because someone must.
Pratchett’s prose is a joy: laced with wordplay, philosophical asides, and incisive social commentary — and then, without warning, moments of startling emotional depth. The confrontation between Vimes and his former friend Lupine Wonse — architect of the entire debacle — is a masterclass in narrative balance: tension, wit, and human vulnerability collide with surgical grace. It is Pratchett at his most refined.
Guards! Guards! has left a considerable cultural footprint. It has been adapted into a BBC Radio 4 drama, numerous theatrical productions, a graphic novel, a video game, and even a board game. This is no accident. The book operates simultaneously as sharp political allegory, crowd-pleasing comedy, and genuinely moving fantasy literature.
It is not merely “another Discworld novel”. It is one of the most mature, hilarious, and profoundly humane entries in the canon — and the beginning of a narrative arc that will offer the reader some of the most unforgettable moments in contemporary speculative fiction (see: Pratchett’s magnum opus, Night Watch). Like Vimes, trudging the filth-strewn streets of Ankh-Morpork in worn-out boots, the reader walks through a world that, for all its absurdities, overflows with meaning — and that meaning is not forged by sword-wielding heroes, but by those who simply keep walking.
"There is a kind of magic in being able to tell right from wrong — and choosing right anyway." Terry Pratchett (through the voice of Vimes)
2. Men At Arms ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Men at Arms is the 15th instalment in the Discworld series—and the second in the "City Watch" subseries. But beyond being “yet another piece of the iconic saga”, it stands out as an exquisitely crafted and socially charged work by Terry Pratchett. First published in 1993, it marks a pivotal transition in the author’s oeuvre—from straightforward parody to deeper politico-social satire. Pratchett, writing “with tongue firmly in cheek”, begins to pass the baton to a more mature, inclusive, and, indeed, “deeper” Pratchett.
The narrative centres on Captain Sam Vimes and the reformation of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, as it recruits a trio of “unusual” new members: a dwarf, a troll, and a woman (who also happens to be a werewolf, although that’s classified). Amidst a string of mysterious murders, an ancient fear is awakened: a weapon—the “gonne”—endowed with an almost magical influence over those who wield it.
The gonne is no mere tool of violence; it serves as a metaphor for power that corrupts—even the most conscientious. Its psychological impact on those who possess it is chilling, almost hypnotic. As Pratchett remarks with caustic wit, “Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. And some guns help more than others.”
Beyond the murder-mystery framework, the novel functions primarily as an allegory for power, identity, multiculturalism, and justice. Pratchett navigates these themes with intelligence and subtlety, steering clear of moralising while inviting profound reflection. In a world where dwarfs and trolls can scarcely bring themselves to converse, the Watch becomes a microcosm of society—a battleground for conflict, but also for reconciliation.
The novel’s greatest strength lies in its characters: • Sam Vimes, the weary, principled captain wrestling with authority, self-worth, and alcoholism. He is “a man who wanted to do the right thing—not because it was easy, but because it was hard.” • Carrot Ironfoundersson, whose faint connection to the throne symbolises a pure, almost naive sense of duty and justice. His innocence acts as a mirror for the corruption of others. • Angua, a compelling new addition, internally torn by her nature, embodying the notion of a “hidden self” struggling for acceptance. • Detritus and Cuddy, whose burgeoning friendship transcends racial and cultural prejudices, offering both poignancy and humour.
The chemistry among these characters adds depth and vitality, while Pratchett’s satire—biting yet fundamentally humane—targets racism and zealotry alike. As Carrot states, “The point of the law isn’t to stop bad people. It’s to give good people a reason not to be like them.”
Pratchett’s prose remains unique: playful, laden with puns and clever turns of phrase, but also rich in political insight. While some critics (such as Publishers Weekly, 16 October 1995 – https://www.publishersweekly.com/9780...– gods, someone got paid to write this) suggested that this entry isn’t quite as “consistently funny” as earlier works (really, did you have “consistently funny books” in your village?), the plot here is more mature and thematically dense. The blend of fantasy and political commentary calls to mind an Orwellian work forced through a Douglas Adams-shaped funnel (after a generous application of lubricant). Or, more simply put, this is Pratchett at his best.
Although the narrative occasionally sags in the middle sections (rather like a coiled spring just before it leaps), and certain secondary characters (such as Vetinari) are left somewhat underused, the overall experience remains deeply rewarding.
Men at Arms is one of Terry Pratchett’s most mature, emotionally resonant, and thematically ambitious works. It manages to strike a rare balance between humour, social satire, and sheer imaginative brilliance. This is not merely a whimsical adventure featuring trolls and pistols; it is a story about how societies are built—and how they collapse. It is a study in power, in belief, and in the fragile art of remaining human in a world seemingly designed to prevent exactly that. And if Pratchett “laughs”, it is only so we don’t cry first. A brilliant example of what speculative fiction can achieve when it has something to say—and the pen is wielded by one of the finest (if not the finest) the genre has ever known.
3. Feet of Clay ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
The Watch is coming of age — and Pratchett delves deeply into power, identity, and the dignity of being.
Discworld is a fantastical universe that teeters between satire (having initially begun as a deliberate parody of the fantasy genre) and trenchant social observation (an evolution that emerged through Pratchett’s own literary maturation). In a flat world balanced atop four elephants who, in turn, stand on the back of a giant turtle, Terry Pratchett weaves narratives that speak more truly of our own world than most "realist" fiction ever could — veiled in humour, fantasy, and parody.
Feet of Clay, the 19th entry in the series and the third focused on the City Watch (a group whose members, in traditional fantasy fiction, tend to die anonymously around Chapter Three), once again affirms Pratchett’s unparalleled skill in crafting stories that are multifaceted, socially incisive, and deeply human. It is in this novel that the Watch — the police force of Ankh-Morpork — reaches full maturity: thematically, politically, narratively. If in earlier instalments the Watch served primarily as a comedic foil, here in Feet of Clay it becomes a moral axis around which the story — and arguably the Disc itself — turns.
Simultaneously, many of the themes explored (gender identity, political corruption, programmed obedience of labour) prefigure mainstream discourse and contemporary social struggles, demonstrating with astonishing clarity just how prescient Pratchett truly was.
Vetinari and the Fragile Balances of Power The narrative opens with two murders and an attempted poisoning of Havelock Vetinari, the Patrician — whose steely, minimalist rule has kept the anarchic and wildly unpredictable Ankh-Morpork from imploding for as long as anyone can remember (within the series, that is). Yet it soon becomes clear that this is no ordinary political intrigue, but part of a deeper conspiracy, one targeting not merely the man, but the very framework of order upon which Ankh-Morpork precariously rests.
Vetinari, among the most complex figures in the Discworld canon, embodies the archetype of the “enlightened despot” — authoritarian, yes, but ruthlessly rational; mildly cynical, yet impeccably effective. A walking embodiment of administrative compulsion, he is the axle around which the city’s institutions turn, a convergence point of all political vectors of power, wielded not for personal gain but for collective stability. The attempt on his life thus raises a central question: who poses the greater threat to social equilibrium — the one who governs, or those nostalgic for the old order, seeking power under the guise of tradition?
Pratchett does not sanctify his ruler; rather, he sketches the moral ambiguity of leadership with clinical precision: the cost of control, the irony of order upheld by personal authority rather than institutions, and the ever-present spectre of hypocrisy that haunts even the most “well-intentioned” reforms.
Identity, Class, and the Path of Vimes At the heart of the story stands the beloved Sam Vimes — a figure who embodies the tension between duty and scepticism, order and justice. Once a hopeless drunk from the city’s underclass, now a Duke and commander of the Watch, Vimes represents the self-made man who has never forgotten his roots.
His position renders him an ideal lens through which Pratchett interrogates the nature of authority: Vimes challenges both the powerful and the "innocent", clinging to a rare — almost moral — interpretation of the law. As he says, “The point of the law is to protect the weak from the strong”, and not the other way round.
Alongside him is Angua, a werewolf living perpetually between two natures, a constant reminder of the fluidity of identity — biological, ethical, and social. Her internal struggle for control, coexistence, and acceptance mirrors that of many "others" in Pratchett’s universe: individuals who must first prove their worth in order to belong, in a society where class divides remain both present and inflexible — not-so-subtle commentary from Sir Terry on how this poisonous notion continues to permeate our own allegedly rational, “disenchanted” (to borrow from Max Weber) world.
Golems: Workers, Machines, or Persons? Against this backdrop arises the question of agency, through the golems — clay constructs designed for unthinking obedience. But something is shifting: they begin to develop consciousness. With it comes will, guilt, even faith. Pratchett, with near-prescient foresight, here addresses questions of artificial intelligence and the politics of created life — and, more classically, the dynamics of wage labour in a system built on exploitation.
The golems are avatars of the working class — beings asked only to obey, never to speak. They are “living mechanisms” who ultimately demand the obvious: the right to choose. Through them, the book becomes a meditation on the relationship between man and tool, creator and created, power and dignity. Pratchett does not merely ask whether golems "feel", but whether they possess the right to define themselves. A prophetic precursor to our ongoing ethical debates around Artificial Intelligence.
Cheery and the Fracturing of Normativity Enter Cheery Littlebottom (an exquisite name, truly), the first dwarf to openly identify as female (do overlook the beard). She demands not only social recognition, but, more poignantly, the right to self-definition, in a culture that altogether denies gender as a concept. Long before “non-binary” or “gender expression” entered common parlance — and occasionally collapsed under the weight of their own rhetorical excess — she rejects silence as the price of belonging.
Pratchett, with his signature tenderness and wit, does not reduce Cheery to a “message”. She is a person, replete with longing, insecurity, and defiant strength. Like the golems, she tears fissures in the illusion of fixed identity, enriching the narrative’s engagement with freedom and authenticity.
A Mystery With a Political Core The plot, with Vimes playing the part of a hard-boiled noir detective, follows the structure of a traditional whodunit. But, being Pratchett, the twist is not the point — the why behind the who is where the weight lies. The climax, involving the destruction of the Royal College of Arms (nothing to do with limbs or weaponry; think coats-of-arms), serves as a symbolic break with aristocratic hypocrisy — a moment that affirms that no one stands above the law, and that dignity stems not from birthright, but from action and consistency.
If Guards! Guards! introduced us to the Watch and Men at Arms brought it into adolescence, Feet of Clay marks its maturity. Here, humour no longer dominates, but supports; fantasy no longer escapes, but returns with bite. More than an excellent and deeply enjoyable novel, it is a meditation on liberty, responsibility, and the complexities of being (human, golemic, dwarfish, lycanthropic, etc.) — its voice timeless, vital, and, ultimately, profoundly moving.
18/05/10 - Finished Guards! Guards! Loved it. This is the first City Watch book I've read and I initially found that I really didn't like Cpt. Vimes. A drunk manic depressive. It took a while to get into the book because of this, but when he stopped being so morose and got his act together, the whole book became so much better. Love the other guards. Carrot, Colon and Nobby are fabulous characters and I can't wait to find out what happens between Vimes and Lady Ramkin. Great book.
Men at Arms started 28/05/10. finished 05/06/10
Brilliant! I can see why the City Watch books are so loved by many people. You can add me to that list. I laughed out loud a lot through this book, but there was a bit of crying near the end.. not out and out weeping, but a lone single tear. On to the 3rd book and this time, I am not taking a break! Loved all the Carrot character building.
Feet of Clay started 05/06/10 finished 11/06/10
I loved this last book in the trilogy. It was good to see Sam back in the 'detectoring' seat. I love Cheery 'Cheri' Littlebottom! Nobby as an Earl, hah!!!! :D
Terry Pratchett is one of the best writers of our time. He's created a universe (OK, more like a world) with such depth and detail that I can't think of another writer who can really get you into his/her books any better. Once you've started reading the books, you'll start to know where the characters are, even before the place is named because you know it's 1 block from the Unseen University or in The Shades. And the City Watch books are the best in the series (with the possible exception of the Death/Susan books) in my opinion.
Samuel Vines is the Commander of The Watch. He doesn't really like it that much, but he really is the best man for the job. Along with Captain Nobbs, Captain Ironfoundersson and Sargent Colon, Vimes ried his best to keep the peace in the City. But, with new recruits coming left and right (including a Werewolf, a Troll, a Dwarf and even a Zombie) and threats coming from every possible angle, there's often hardly enough time to sit back and show up the Assassin's Guild before Vetinari wants a word.
I have several friends who are absolutely nutty about Discworld. For me, they seem to hold limited appeal. Of course, it may be my own fault for having chosen an omnibus with three at once. They're witty, entertaining books, and the Watch trilogy in particular has some colorful characters (in a good way!), but there's only so much I can take of the very same style and strangely familiar plots before it starts to get old.
An interesting start now P 83 I do not know when I finished Guards! Guards! but it must have been sometime in 2022. Today I have started 'Men at Arms' starting on P 255 now reached P 260 Aristocrats talking about P263 P 271 P 287 Captain Vimes thinking about his forth coming marriage P 292 Gaspo the talking cat turns up
Thud! Was my very first Discworld book. It made me want to find all of the Sam Vimes books. I love this character and the supporting cast around him. Any discworld book featuring The Watch is going to be a great read.
Just as superbly excellent (and laugh out loud funny) as every other time I've read them - beware this edition, though, as it has a number of typos that are not present in the single volume editions.