Making vows like this is dangerous on the Discworld, because there’s always the danger something is watching and waiting for just such an opportunity to arise. Our hero is Imp y Celyn, a young bard from the rainy kingdom of Llamedos who dedicates his life to music in the midst of an argument with his intransigent father. Pratchett uses other books to riff on the arts – filmmaking ( Moving Pictures) and opera ( Maskerade), for example – but this homage to rock music affectionately skewers its pretensions, while maintaining a sense of the deep, raw, primal magic beneath it. This has always been one of my favourite Discworld books and, at this point in the reread, I think it’s categorically the favourite.
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