by Terry Pratchett

This was a weird concept, even for Pratchett. The Hogfather has ceased to be and Death thought he would just fill in for him, with the expected series of misunderstandings of human antics.

The daughter of his adopted daughter, Susan, gets caught up in things, much to her chagrin. She tries so hard not to see things other humans can't and to forget about he childhood as Death's granddaughter. She works as a governess and kills monsters for the children, of course.

There are a lot of metaphysical antics in Pratchett style, with assassins attempting to kill the Hogfather despite the fact that he's an immortal and Death himself coming under threat. There's also a trigger when a character casually mentions drowning a kitten.

I've enjoyed Pratchett's later books a bit less than some of his classics like the Guards and Witches series. Death is actually one of my favourite characters, but towards the end of this story it got a little too convoluted and 'out there' for my taste. Of course then Death comes out with some amazing philosophical statements about humans that are worthy of great literature, just to confuse the issue.

I'm glad I read the story but this is a read once for me. It also loses a star for the kitten.

"'It's a bathroom,' said Ridcully.  'You are all acting as if it's some kind of a torture chamber.'

'A bathroom,' said the Dean, 'designed by Bloody Stupid Johnson.  Archchancellor Weatherwax only used it once and then had it sealed up!  Mustrum, I beg you to reconsider!  It's a Johnson!'

There was something of a pause, because even Ridcully had to adjust his mind around this.

The late (or at least severely delayed) Bergholt Stuttley Johnson was generally recognized as the worst inventor in the world, yet in a very specialized sense.  Merely bad inventors made things that failed to operate.  He wasn't among these small fry.  Any fool could make something that did absolutely nothing when you pressed the button.  He scorned such fumble-fingered amateurs.  Everything he built worked.  It just didn't do what it said on the box.  If you wanted a small ground-to-air missile, you asked Johnson to design an ornamental fountain.  It amounted to pretty much the same thing.  But this never discouraged him, or the morbid curiosity of his clients.  Music, landscape, gardening, architecture -- there was no start to his talents.

Nevertheless, it was a little bit  surprising to find that Bloody Stupid had turned to bathroom design.  But, as Ridcully said, it was known that he had designed and built several large musical organs and, when you got right down to it, it was all just plumbing, wasn't it?"

Somehow, this read slightly differently this year.  I mean, I know it's supposed to be punning Leonardo da Vinci, but please ... B.S. Johnson?!

Near perfection. Minus one star for trying to kill me. (Not really.)

Happy Hogswatch, everyone!

‘What was a corpse doing in his wardrobe? And no one is to say “Not a lot,” or anythin’ tasteless like that.’

Fun fact: In my copy, ‘What was a corpse doing in his wardrobe?’ is at the bottom of page 367. The next sentence is at the top of page 368. Hand on my heart, after reading the first sentence and before turning the page, I said out loud, “Not much!” And then I read the next line and laughed myself into an asthma attack.

Aaaand off we go for the grand finale of this year's Festive Tasks reads!