Welcome, esteemed bookworms and future Pratchett
devotees! Strap in, because we’re about to crack open
Going Postal by Terry Pratchett—yes, that Terry
Pratchett, the guy who made us all wish we had a
Luggage with legs. But don’t worry if you’re new to
Discworld; I haven’t read this book yet either, so
we’re all in for a wild ride together.
Okay, so picture this: a con artist named Moist von
Lipwig (yes, that’s his real name, or at least it is
now) is about to be hanged for his crimes. But just
when you think it’s curtains for our slippery hero, a
mysterious government official steps in and offers him
a choice: die or become the new Postmaster of
Ankh-Morpork. Moist, being a practical sort of crook,
chooses the post office over the gallows—which,
honestly, seems like the right call for most of us.
But here’s the catch: the Ankh-Morpork Post Office is
a crumbling, haunted, pigeon-infested ruin. The last
several Postmasters have all met mysterious ends, and
the only employee is a guy who thinks the mail is
delivered by invisible demons. Moist is tasked with
bringing the postal service back to life, but with a
city full of schemers, a rival communication company
(the Clacks), and a haunted building, it’s not going
to be easy. Oh, and did I mention the golems? There
are golems. Obviously.
So far, it’s a mix of Dickensian bureaucracy, madcap
comedy, and a dash of existential dread—because, you
know, haunted mail.
