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Small Gods (Discworld), by Terry Pratchett
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Lost in the chill deeps of space between the galaxies, it sails on forever, a flat, circular world carried on the back of a giant turtle—
Discworld
—a land where the unexpected can be expected. Where the strangest things happen to the nicest people. Like Brutha, a simple lad who only wants to tend his melon patch. Until one day he hears the voice of a god calling his name. A small god, to be sure. But bossy as Hell.
- Sales Rank: #30635 in Books
- Published on: 2013-10-29
- Released on: 2013-10-29
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.50" h x .90" w x 4.19" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 400 pages
Amazon.com Review
Discworld is an extragavanza--among much else, it has billions of gods. "They swarm as thick as herring roe," writes Terry Pratchett in Small Gods, the 13th book in the series. Where there are gods galore, there are priests, high and low, and... there are novices. Brutha is a novice with little chance to become a priest--thinking does not come easily to him, although believing does. But it is to Brutha that the great god Om manifests, in the lowly form of a tortoise. --Blaise Selby
Review
"Surely the best novel Terry Pratchett has ever written, and the best comedy"
-John Clute, "Interzone"
From the Publisher
"Surely the best novel Terry Pratchett has ever written, and the best comedy"
-John Clute, Interzone
Most helpful customer reviews
109 of 111 people found the following review helpful.
Oh Brutha, Where Art Thou?
By Mike Stone
The first twelve Discworld books were adolescent affairs, obsessed with corny jokes, screwball plots, and bumbling but lovable characters. Enjoyable treats all, but in retrospect less substantial than they could have been. "Small Gods", to me, is Terry Pratchett's first 'adult' book. The corny jokes, screwball plots, and bumbling but lovable characters are still here, but only to service a narrative soaked in significant themes and obsessed with our place in the multiverse.
For the most part it stands on its own as a complete story. Except for a few notable exceptions (i.e., an appearance by the cousin of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, a quick cameo by my all-time favourite Disc denizen The Librarian, and a couple of pregnant references to Ankh Morpork), you don't have to be Discworld savvy to follow the story. It's set in the previously unheard of locale of Omnia, where the Quisition, led by Deacon Vorbis (as evil a character as anything Pratchett has put on paper), tortures into its heretical citizenry a belief in the Great God Om. But the central question in the book, the one that drives the plot forward, is this: what happens when belief dissipates, and is replaced by simple routine? Following the rituals of a religion is not really the same as believing in the power and glory of a God.
And on the Discworld it's not like your wanting for Gods to choose from. There are billions of them, and they're all likely to strike you down where you stand if you insult them in any way. Great God Om used to be the greatest of all Gods, but he's fallen on tough times. The brand of belief favoured by Vorbis is not the kind of belief Om needs. He's losing true believers in the process, and has become quite ineffectual. So much so that he woke up one day to find himself in the body of a small turtle, dropped by an eagle attempting to break his shell (because, as we're constantly reminded, "There's very good eating on one of these, you know"). The only thing keeping Om from disappearing altogether is Brutha, an illiterate novice, who barely knows anything of the world outside the confines of his garden.
Brutha and Om follow a Pratchett tradition of teaming a wide-eyed innocent with a cynical curmudgeon, and watching as the two personalities eventually meet in the middle ("Om, bumping along in Brutha's pack, began to feel the acute depression that steals over every realist in the presence of an optimist"). Brutha is a true believer in the face of pure evil, and it's this innocence/ignorance that allows him to survive. Om is a perpetually pissed-off little dude, angry at his new lot in life, and unsure how to get his powers back. All he knows is that Brutha is his only hope, for Brutha is the only one that can truly hear him. Their joint quest is a joy to follow.
Along the way, we meet an eclectic cast of characters, all looking to revolt against the tyranny of Omnia, or to sit back and wait for the cards to fall where they may. The most fun is a brief excursion to Ephebe, the Disc's Greek doppelganger. Its philosophers are known to run through the streets dripping wet, dressed only in a towel and carrying a loofah sponge, after an Archimedes-esque "Eureka" moment, and it's tyrannical ruler (rightly called The Tyrant) is guarded by an impenetrable and lethal labyrinth. Terry has much fun poking holes in this world of ideas, just as he's had poking holes in the world of beliefs. Which is probably the greatest thing about this book. No matter what side of the line you fall on, be it atheist, zealot, intellectual, or priest, you'll find someone/something to laugh at, and many reasons to pause for thought.
You'd think a book like this, thick with ideas, would be short on plot and humour. Well, this still is a Discworld book, so it has plenty of both. The plot moves along like a steam engine (or a steam-powered turtle), plunging Brutha and Om through danger and chaos until the fantastic denouement, which drops from the sky like some divine providence. It's a thrilling ride and a satisfying ending. As for the humour, Terry's remarkable wit remains intact even after thirteen entries in the series. My favourite moments here involve faux-Latin translations, that clean up the original version with PC precision ("Cuius testiculos habes, habeas cardia et cerebellum" doesn't necessarily translate to "When you have their full attention in your grip, their hearts and minds will follow", but the joke comes when you realize what that second Latin word must really mean).
"Small Gods" is most assuredly a parody of other sci-fi/fantasy books, just as the rest of the Discworld books have been. But it is so much more than that. It really does stand on its own as a perfect satire of religion, and what it means to be religious (or more simply put, to believe). I fancied myself a fan of Terry's previous books, but have to admit that this is leaps and bounds ahead of those previous works. And thank Om for that!
48 of 53 people found the following review helpful.
Annuncio Vobis Gaudium Magnum Habemus Testudo Dei
By Lonya
Rough translation: I announce to you with great joy, we have a turtle God. That should have been the announcement that greeted the arrival of the God of the City of Om upon his return to Om. Unfortunately he was greeted by stunned disbelief by his sole remaining true believer. Since the size and power of any God/god on Discworld is directly proportional to the level of belief in each God's by its adherents this god is but a turtle. Out of such co-dependent relationships are small gods and Terry Pratchett's Small Gods made.
Co-dependent seems an apt term in this context. In Small Gods, Pratchett looks at organized religion through the prism of the co-dependant relationship. This theme is set against a backdrop which, if filmed, would have been produced by David Lean and looked remarkably like Lawrence of Arabia. (The Omnian attack on Ephebia and Brutha's trek with Vorbis across the desert between their cities both left me with images of Lawrence's attack on Aqaba and his disastrous trek across the desert with his youthful assistants.) Specifically, Pratchett examines the co-dependency of man and his God(s). Each is entirely co-dependent on the other. The plot, including the hilarious deus ex machina climax, has been well summarized in the product description and in other reviews so I'll confine myself to a few random observations.
No matter how deeply philosophical the underlying theme, the potential reader should know that Pratchett is an excellent writer and capable of some of the funniest lines and paragraphs you are likely to encounter in fiction. Pratchett introduces the Ephebians' leading philosopher Dydactylos thusly: His philosophy was a mixture of three famous schools -- the Cynics, the Stoics and the Epicureans -- and summed up all three of them in his famous phrase, "You can't trust any bugger further than you can throw him, and there's nothing you can do about it, so let's have a drink." It is no small compliment to state that the passage reminded me of Month Python's Philosopher's Song.
Pratchett's sharp tongue and wonderful sense of humor does not detract from his ability to get a point across. For example, the villain of the piece, Vorbis is engaged in diplomatic negotiations with the leader of the Ephebians, known simply as "the Tyrant". "Slave is an Ephebian word. In Om we have no word for slave," said Vorbis. "So I understand," said the Tyrant. "I imagine that fish have no word for water." In context, this exchange is simply brilliant. Small Gods is full of these little pearls.
Pearls, actually, form the basis of my final thoughts on Small Gods. I think it clear that Pratchett does not look kindly upon the excesses and brutalities committed in the name of God(s). However, those who do maintain such a belief system should not construe that as an attack on faith itself. I think one can liken the philosophies expressed by Moses, Jesus, or Buddha for example as a grain of sand. The grain of sand can be perfectly beautiful but because it serves as something of a societal irritant when first expressed it becomes covered with layer upon layer of outer covering until it evolves into a pearl. Now that pearl can be beautiful but it can also completely obscure the pure beauty of that grain of sand. So too with the trappings and dogma of oragnized relgion. When doctrine and dogma take pride of place the beauty of the idea is lost and can turn horrid. Vorbis' role as leader of the Omnian inquisition is no accident. The comparison between Vorbis and Brutha is beautiful for its symetry. Vorbis is all form and structure but totally devoid of content, of soul. Brutha is close to being the opposite. As we look at the trappings of our own faith (those of us that choose to have one) it might not be a bad idea to examine whether or not the trappings of that doctrine obscure the initial meaning and purity of the ideas around which those trappings were created.
That any author, particularly one so consistenly funny, can evoke such a thought process, is, perhaps, a minor miracle.
24 of 25 people found the following review helpful.
I've read 'em all, but...
By A Customer
So maybe I'm biased. I've read all Pratchett's book at least twice. I've got both of the map books, and I even met Pratchett for Gods sakes. But SMALL GODS is, and always will be, my favourite. It doesn't have as much of the in-your-face humour of some of the others in the series, or the sly digs to popular culture (Wyrd Sisters, Moving Pictures) but Small Gods is first and foremost, a satire. Personally, I believe this is where Pratchett hit his creative peak, when he had the perfect balance of characters, wit and imagination. Not to mention a real sense of danger - how many "humorists" can pull that off?
Don't think about it. Small Gods has something to say about belief, friendship, zealotry - the whole nine yards... Kevin Smith's new film DOGMA is trying to cover similar ground, but I doubt it'll be anywhere as insightful or entertaining as this.
Just get it... buy it now, on the cheap, and I'm Cutting Me Own Throat...
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