Abi Collins’s Reviews > Mort > Status Update

Light on the Discworld isn't like light elsewhere.
It's grown up a bit, it's been around, it doesn't feel the need to rush everywhere. It knows that however fast it goes darkness always gets there first, so it takes it easy.

Night rolled onwards across the Disc. It was always there, of course, lurking in shadows and holes and cellars, but as the slow light of day drifted after the sun the pools and lakes of night spread out, met and merged.

‘You see, it’s very seldom I ever have to find a new career for an - what was it again?’
ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION

‘My father was a bit like that. Is, I mean.'
"I expect he's got glands, though.'
'I imagine he has,' said Mort, shifting uneasily. ‘It's not something I've ever really thought about, glands.'
They stared side by side at the trout. The trout
stared back.
‘I've just upset the entire history of the future,’ said Mort.

‘It was a sight seen by few people, and Mort wasn't one of them, because he lay low over Binky's neck and clung on for his life as they pounded through the night sky ahead of a comet trail of
steam.’

‘Well, - - - - me,’ he said. ‘A - - - - ing wizard. I hate - - - - ing wizards!’
‘You shouldn’t - - - - them, then,’ muttered one of his henchmen, effortlessly pronouncing a row of dashes.

OMG IT’S THE FAMOUS LINE

A WHAT? said Death in astonishment, sitting behind his ornate desk and turning his scythe-shaped paperknife over and over in his hands.
'An afternoon off,' repeated Mort. The room suddenly seemed to be oppressively big, with himself very exposed in the middle of a carpet about the size of a field.
BUT WHY? said Death. IT CAN'T BE TO ATTEND YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S FUNERAL, he added. I WOULD KNOW.

‘And he goes around killing people?' said Mort.
He shook his head. 'There's no justice.'
Death sighed. No, he said, handing his drink to a page who was surprised to find he was suddenly holding an empty glass, THERE'S JUST ME.

There were temples, their doors wide open, filling the streets with the sounds of gongs, cymbals and, in the case of some of the more conservative fundamentalist religions, the brief screams of the victims.

Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at
the kingdoms of the world.
I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD
MURDER A CURRY.