Finished reading: The Colour Of Magic by Terry Pratchett 📚

According to a legend, somewhere on the far side of the Disc, beyond the great sea, lies the Counterweight Continent. Since it’s assumed to balance the Disc’s other landmasses, yet appears relatively small, it’s believed to consist largely of heavy gold. Few sane people, of course, believe this story — until one day, a ship sailing up the smelly Morpork river brings a Tourist to the shores of Ankh-Morpork.

The locals don’t understand what a “tourist” is, but quickly deduce it means roughly the same as “idiot”. The man dresses oddly, acts strangely, and carries an absurd amount of gold — whose value he doesn’t seem to grasp. He’s also accompanied by a sentient pearwood chest, the Luggage, which is generally docile but turns into an unstoppable, murderous beast if its master is threatened.

Rincewind, a wizard who failed utterly at wizardry and is mostly a coward — though otherwise fairly clever — finds that he can speak the tourist’s language. The tourist, Twoflower, hires Rincewind as his guide. Soon, Ankh-Morpork is entirely ablaze, and Rincewind and Twoflower are fleeing by land, sea, and air.

The Colour of Magic launched the now-famous Discworld series in 1983, and over thirty novels have followed. Quite the achievement, especially considering this book alone is so packed with ideas and events that it feels like Pratchett wanted to include every concept he had.

I originally borrowed the book for my second grader, but after he found it too confusing after the first couple dozen pages, I ended up reading it myself. I’ve probably read it long ago, but Pratchett’s absurd British humor still hits the mark for me — and presumably for other fans of Monty Python and Douglas Adams as well.