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A sourcerer is born a wizard so powerful that by comparison all other magic is just mucking around in pointy hats.
Everybody wants more time, which is why on Discworld only the experts can manage it -- the venerable Monks of History who store it and pump it from where it's wasted, like underwater (how much time does a codfish really need?), to places like cities, where busy denizens lament, "Oh where does the time go?" While everyone always talks about slowing down, one young horologist is about to do the unthinkable. He's going to stop. Well, stop time that is, by building the world's first truly accurate clock. Which means esteemed History Monk Lu-Tze and his apprentice Lobsang Ludd have to put on some speed to stop the timepiece before it starts. For if the Perfect Clock starts ticking, Time -- as we know it -- will end. And then the trouble will really begin...
Once, in a gods-forsaken hellhole called Koom Valley, trolls and dwarfs met in bloody combat. Centuries later, each species still views the other with simmering animosity. Lately, the influential dwarf, Grag Hamcrusher, has been fomenting unrest among Ankh-Morpork's more diminutive citizens--a volatile situation made far worse when the pint-size provocateur is discovered bashed to death . . . with a troll club lying conveniently nearby. Commander Sam Vimes of the City Watch is aware of the importance of solving the Hamcrusher homicide without delay. (Vimes's second most-pressing responsibility, in fact, next to always being home at six p.m. sharp to read Where's My Cow? to Sam, Jr.) But more than one corpse is waiting for Vimes in the eerie, summoning darkness of a labyrinthine mine network being secretly excavated beneath Ankh-Morpork's streets. And the deadly puzzle is pulling him deep into the muck and mire of superstition, hatred, and fear--and perhaps all the way to Koom Valley itself.
Koom Valley? That was where the trolls ambushed the dwarves, or the dwarves ambushed the trolls. It was far away. It was a long time ago. But if he doesn't solve the murder of just one dwarf, Commander Sam Vimes of Ankh-Morpork City Watch is going to see the battle fought again, right outside his office. With his beloved Watch crumbling around him and war-drums sounding, he must unravel every clue, outwit every assassin and brave any darkness to find the solution. And darkness is following him.
Y la culpa de todo la tienen, por este orden: un panfleto revolucionario titulado "Lo que hice en mis vacaciones...", el mago Rincewind y su fiel Equipaje..., una horda de bárbaros capitaneados por un viejo héroe llamado Gengis Cohen... Y una mariposa muy especial. ¿Quizá por eso la peor maldición que se puede echar en el refinadísimo Imperio Ágata es «Ojalá vivas en tiempos interesantes»?Ésta es la historia de una revolución largamente esperada y con giros insospechados. Al fin y al cabo transcurre en el Mundodisco del genial Terry Pratchett.Más que un autor, Terry Pratchett es un fenómeno imparable... Sus novelas son como una droga, y es un placer engancharse a su mezcla única de juegos de palabras, lógica surrealista y finas dotes de observación.
"Truckers" is the first book in a new fantasy trilogy, and follows the adventures of a small race of people after they leave their underground home.
The denizens of Ankh-Morpork fancy they've seen just about everything. But then comes the Ankh-Morpork Times, struggling scribe William de Worde's upper-crust, newsletter turned Discworld's first paper of record.An ethical joulnalist, de Worde has a proclivity for investigating stories -- a nasty habit that soon creates powerful enemies eager to stop his presses. And what better way than to start the Inquirer, a titillating (well, what else would it be?) tabloid that conveniently interchanges what's real for what sells.But de Worde's got an inside line on the hot story concerning Ankh-Morpork's leading patrician Lord Vetinari. The facts say Vetinari is guilty. But as William de Worde learns, facts don't always tell the whole story. There's that pesky little thing called the truth ...
The wizards at Ankh-Morpork's Unseen University are renowned for many things--wisdom, magic, and their love of teatime--but athletics is most assuredly not on the list. And so when Lord Ventinari, the city's benevolent tyrant, strongly suggests to Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully that the university revive an erstwhile tradition and once again put forth a football team composed of faculty, students, and staff, the wizards of UU find themselves in a quandary. To begin with, they have to figure out just what it is that makes this sport--soccer with a bit of rugby thrown in--so popular with Ankh-Morporkians of all ages and social strata. Then they have to learn how to play it. Oh, and on top of that, they must win a football match without using magic. Meanwhile, Trev (a handsome street urchin and a right good kicker) falls hard for kitchen maid Juliet (beautiful, dim, and perhaps the greatest fashion model there ever was), and Juliet's best pal, UU night cook Glenda (homely, sensible, and a baker of jolly good pies) befriends the mysterious Mr. Nutt (about whom no one knows very much, including Mr. Nutt, which is worrisome . . .). As the big match approaches, these four lives are entangled and changed forever. Because the thing about football--the most important thing about football--is that it is never just about football.
«Dicen que las mentiras pueden dar la vuelta al mundo antes de que la verdad tenga tiempo de ponerse las botas...» A William de Worde, editor accidental del primer periódico del Mundodisco, siempre le ha preocupado la naturaleza de la verdad. Sabe que se esconde en lugares improbables y cuenta con sirvientes extraños. Pero mientras la busca, no le queda más remedio que lidiar con los tradicionales problemas de la profesión periodística, como que: 1) todos creen que quieren noticias, pero lo que realmente ansían es leer las cosas que ya saben; 2) en cuanto abre el cuaderno y empuña el lápiz, muchos se le acercan sonrientes y formales, otros enmudecen y algunos preferirían directamente verle muerto, y 3) de algún, de algún modo las hortalizas con formas graciosas siempre terminan colándose en cada edición.Competencia feroz. Titulares. Erratas. Cobrar cada semana. Y para colmo, la prensa nunca deja de tener hambre: hay que llenar espacio a toda costa. Aunque tal vez lo que se ha escrito solo sea cierto hasta la próxima edición. Porque si la verdad se pone las botas, correr tras las mentiras no es lo único que puede hacer.La verdad, la vigesimoquinta novela de la serie del Mundodisco, es una exquisita parodia y reflexión sobre el mundo de la prensa y todo lo que le rodea. El poder de la pluma y el papel, la creación de opinión pública, las presiones sobre el periodista, la prensa amarilla, la búsqueda de la imparcialidad y la verdad... Todo en el más puro estilo pratchettiano. O pratchéttico. O pratchettense. Sea como sea, ya es hora de usarlo como adjetivo.
La isla perdida de Leshp ha emergido inopinadamente de entre las aguas. Aparte de ser un reto arqueológico, este nuevo territorio ocupa una posición estratégica inmejorable en caso de guerra. Y por la curiosa lógica que suele prevalecer en estos casos, todos toman rápido las armas para reclamar su posesión. Ankh-Morpork, la mayor ciudad-estado del Mundodisco, y Klatch, el antiguo imperio desértico de los turbantes y los camellos, se preparan para verse las caras en el campo de batalla. Mientras se forman los regimientos, la Guardia de la Ciudad de Ankh-Morpork se enfrenta a soflamas incendiarias, turbas callejeras, cierta aversión a los restaurantes exóticos y, por si fuera poco, al asesinato del embajador de Klatch, en cuya investigación empieza a cobrar sentido la Teoría del Segundo Arquero. El comandante Sam Vimes y su cada vez más variopinta tropa deberán salvaguardar la paz en la ciudad, tomada por una clase militar ansiosa de pelea, e intentar impedir el único crimen que increíblemente no es ilegal: la guerra. En esta nueva entrega del Mundodisco se reúnen el género policíaco, los libros de aventuras y la novela bélica mezclados en la irónica coctelera de Terry Pratchett, que, como de costumbre, resulta más hilarante y profundo cuanto más serio es el tema que trata.
A nightmarish danger threatens from the other side of reality . . . Armed with only a frying pan and her common sense, young witch-to-be Tiffany Aching must defend her home against the monsters of Fairyland. Luckily she has some very unusual help: the local Nac Mac Feegle-aka the Wee Free Men-a clan of fierce, sheep-stealing, sword-wielding, six-inch-high blue men. Together they must face headless horsemen, ferocious grimhounds, terrifying dreams come true, and ultimately the sinister Queen of the Elves herself. . . . A Story of Discworld
Somewhere in a place so far up there, a ship is waiting to take the nomes home - back to wherever they came from. With their home in a quarry under threat, one nome, Masklin, knows that they've got to find a way of contacting this ship.
When the Spirit of Winter takes a fancy to Tiffany Aching, he wants her to stay in his gleaming, frozen world. Forever. It will take the young witch's skill and cunning, as well as help from the legendary Granny Weatherwax and the irrepressible Wee Free Men, to survive until Spring. Because if Tiffany doesn't make it to Spring-- --Spring won't come.
For more than two decades, Terry Pratchett has been regaling readers with tales of Discworld-a flat world balanced on the backs of four elephants, which are standing on the back of a giant turtle, flying through space. It is a world populated by ineffectual wizards and sharp-as-tacks witches, by tired policemen and devious dictators, by reformed thieves and vampires who have sworn to drink no blood. It is a world that is vastly different from our own . . . except when it isn't. Now, in The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld, various nuggets of Pratchett's witty commentary and sagacious observations have been compiled by Pratchett expert Stephen Briggs, a man who, they say, knows even more about Discworld than Terry Pratchett. Within these pages, you'll find musings on: Interior decorating: "It's a fact known throughout the universes that no matter how carefully the colors are chosen, institutional decor ends up as either vomit green, unmentionable brown, nicotine yellow, or surgical appliance pink. By some little-understood process of sympathetic resonance, corridors painted in those colors always smell slightly of boiled cabbage-even if no cabbage is ever cooked in the vicinity." (Equal Rites) Travel: "Any seasoned traveler soon learns to avoid anything wished on them as a 'regional speciality,' because all the term means is that the dish is so unpleasant the people living everywhere else will bite off their own legs rather than eat it. But hosts still press it upon distant guests anyway: 'Go on, have the dog's head stuffed with macerated cabbage and pork noses-it's a regional speciality.'" (The Last Continent) Young men: "And then there was the young male walk. At least women swung only their hips. Young men swung everything, from the shoulders down. You have to try to occupy a lot of space. It makes you look bigger, like a tomcat fluffing his tail. The boys tried to walk big in self-defense against all those other big boys out there. I'm bad, I'm fierce, I'm cool, I'd like a pint of shandy and me mam wants me home by nine." (Monstrous Regiment) Class: "'Old money' meant that it had been made so long ago that the black deeds that had originally filled the coffers were now historically irrelevant. Funny, that; a brigand for a father was something you kept quiet about, but a slave-taking pirate for a great-great-great-grandfather was something to boast of over the port. Time turned the evil bastards into rogues, and rogue was a word with a twinkle in its eye and nothing to be ashamed of." (Making Money) . . . and more! Culled from all the Discworld novels, The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld confirms Pratchett's place in the pantheon of great satirists and proves why the Chicago Tribune has praised his Discworld as "entertaining and gloriously funny . . . an accomplishment nothing short of magical."
Be careful what you wish for...Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother named Desiderata who had a good heart, a wise head, and poor planning skills--which unforunately left the Princess Emberella in the care of her other (not quite so good and wise) godmother when DEATH came for Desiderata. So now it's up to Magrat Garlick, Granny Weatherwax, and Nanny Ogg to hop on broomsticks and make for far-distant Genua to ensure the servant girl doesn't marry the Prince.But the road to Genua is bumpy, and along the way the trio of witches encounters the occasional vampire, werewolf, and falling house (well this is a fairy tale, after all). The trouble really begins once these reluctant foster-godmothers arrive in Genua and must outwit their power-hungry counterpart who'll stop at nothing to achieve a proper "happy ending"--even if it means destroying a kingdom.
Terry's Pratchett's profoundly irreverent novels are consistent number one bestsellers in England, where they have catapulted him into the highest echelons of parody next to Mark Twain, Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams, and Carl Hiaasen.Meet Granny Weatherwax, the most highly regarded non-leader a coven of non-social witches could ever have. Generally, these loners don't get involved in anything, mush less royal intrigue. but then there are those times they can't help it. As Granny Weatherwax is about to discover, though, it's a lot harder to stir up trouble in the castle than some theatrical types would have you think. Even when you've got a few unexpected spells up your sleeve.
Kingdoms wobble, crowns topple and knives flash on the magical Discworld as the statutory three witches meddle in royal politics.
¡Zas! es el golpe de un mazo de troll cuando cae en seco sobre el casco de un enano; también es un juego de mesa en el que se enfrentan las dos tribus... Y es la historia de una descomunal bronca milenaria que amenaza con estallar de nuevo. Terry Pratchett se confirma una vez más como un narrador único, más divertido, agudo y brillantemente original que nunca.
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