by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
"We hear the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner. Unfortunately, Sister Mary Loquacious of the Chattering Order has misplaced the AntiChrist. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse ride motorcycles. And the representatives from Heaven and Hell have decided they actually like the human race."
I can't say enough about this book. Not only is it absolutely, hysterically funny, it can make you think seriously about the meaning of life, the concept of free will, and what "good" and "evil" really mean. Of course, you can disregard all depth in this book and still enjoy it thoroughly.
Crowley,one of the main characters of the book, arrives at a meeting with two Dukes of Hell. Each of the Dukes reviews what they've done to tempt people to evil. One has tempted a priest, the other corrupted a politician. Crowley has lived on earth since the Beginning, and he has a more modern idea...
"You'll like this,"[Crowley] said.
His smile became even wider and more conspiratorial.
"I tied up every portable telephone system in Central London for forty-five minutes at lunch time." he said.
"Yes?" said Hastur, "And then what?"
"Look, it wasn't easy," said Crowley.
"That's all?" said Ligur.
"Look, people-"
"And exactly what has that done to secure souls for our Master?" said Hastur.
Crowley pulled himself together.
What could he tell them? That twenty thousand people got bloody furious? That you could hear the arteries clanging shut all over the city? And that then they went back and took it out on their secretaries or traffic wardens or whatever, and they took it out on other people? In all kinds of vindictive little ways that, and here was the good bit, they thought up themselves. For the rest of the day. The pass-along effects were incalculable. Thousands and thousands of souls all got a faint patina of tarnish, and you hardly had to lift a finger.
But you couldn't tell that to demons like Hastur and Ligur. Fourteenth-century minds, the lot of them. Spending years picking away at one soul. Admittedly, it was craftmanship, but you had to think differently these days. Not big, but wide. With five billion people in the world you couldn't pick the buggers off one by one anymore; you had to spread your effort. But demons like Ligur and Hastur wouldn't understand. They'd never have thought up Welsh language television, for example. Or value-added tax. Or Manchester.
Ok, if you didn't laugh, check your pulse, because either you're dead, or I didn't type this in right. I'm telling you, go out and buy this book. You'll love it!!
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