Pratchett turns his pen on the press, and its power to disseminate and create the truth. The lesser son of one of Ankh most privileged families hits on the brilliant idea of producing his upper-crust newsletter with a newfangled printing press.
Terry Pratchett's acclaimed Discworld novels have been number one bestsellers in England for more than a decade. In fact, this prolific author sold more hardcover books in the United Kingdom during the 1900's than any other living novelist. Critically recognized as one of the most celebrated practitioners of satire and parody -- in the company of Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams, and Carl Hiaasen -- Pratchett, with his unique brand of irreverent humor, is at last being embraced across America.
In this, his twenty-fifth Discworld novel, Pratchett turns his pen on, well, the pen. Or, rather, the press, and its power to disseminate and create the truth. The lesser son of one of Ankh most privileged families, William de Worde a struggling scribe, hits on the brilliant idea of producing his upper-crust newsletter with a newfangled printing press.
Truer to the family motto, Le Mot juste, than his disapproving father can ever realize, de Worde soon finds that his Ankh-Morpork Times is a success. So big, in fact, that certain nefarious factions would like nothing better than to put him out of business. They begin their own rival Ankh-Morpork Inquirer--full of salacious bits -- to do just that. Soon, though, de Worde has more than just the competition to fret over. Lord Vetinari, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, is accused of a serious crime in a seemingly airtight case. But William de Worde knows that facts aren't always the truth. Along with a much too prim and proper assistant, a roving photographer vampire with a nasty reaction to his flashgun, and a talking dog who holds the key to the mystery, William de Worde will stop at nothing to get the truth.
And that's the truth.
A dead-on look at the revered fifth estate, the nature of news, and bareknuckled political intrigue, The Truth shall make you free. From everything else you'd be doing instead of enjoying it, that is.
The Rumor spread through the city like wildfire (which had quite often spread through Ankh-Morpork since its citizens had learned the words "fire insurance").The dwarfs can turn lead into gold ...
It buzzed through the fetid air of the Alchemists' quarter, where they had been trying to do the same thing for centuries without success but were certain that they'd manage it by tomorrow, or next Tuesday at least, or the end of the month for definite.
It caused speculation among the wizards at Unseen University, where they knew you could turn one element into another element, provided you didn't mind it turning back again next day, and where was the good in that? Besides, most elements were happy where they were.
It seared into the scarred, puffy, and sometimes totally missing ears of the Thieves' Guild, where people put an edge on their crowbars. Who cared where the gold came from?
The dwarfs can turn lead into gold ...
It reached the cold but incredibly ...
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