Terry Pratchett and the Discworld

Terry Pratchett must be my favorite fiction author by now.  His consistently charming, human and hilarious books contain every type of human rendered in a sympathetic fashion, but still capable of the full range of human fallibility, always with humorous results.  When I say human, I stretch the point; his mythical world contains werewolves, vampires, fairies and imps (and others I am sure I have forgotten), cheerfully blended in a delicious literary concoction which is entirely otherworldly and at the same time, just like home.  His Discworld novels (there are others as well),

though many, fall into four main categories.  I suggest reading them in this order.  You local library likely has several of them and can get more.  All are available as audiobooks and in paperback.  I liked the watch novels best, but the witches were pretty good as well, and—oh, hell, just read them all.  You won’t be sorry.  I promise.

Terry Pratchett himself is a modest, unassuming fellow who has recently been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, and knighted the following year.  I feel like an underachiever.