Small Gods

Title: Small Gods
Author: Terry Pratchett
Published: 1992
Genre: Humour fantasy
Pages: 381



Ever since I first read Small Gods (this is the third or fourth time) I've considered it my favourite of the Discworld books. Aaand I pretty much still do. I'd been wanting to re-read it for a good, long while now.

Brutha is a novice at the Church of the Great God Om, about a decade older than his fellow novices, unable to read or write, but with a fantastic memory. Plus, the God Om is talking to him. No, he really is, because Brutha is the only one who really truly believes in him, and therefore the only one who can hear his indignant complaining and requests for lettuce. When the higher-ups become aware of Brutha's uncanny memory, he gets taken along on a 'visit' to the neighbouring country, to follow and record the peace treaty talks.

You can read Pratchett's books as good fun, cool references, fast action and so many puns and jokes, but they're not just that. There's a thoughtful, even serious side to them all, satirically pointing out things that are off or odd in general. Small Gods pokes at organised religions, and what can happen when you don't keep the church and politics separate. But it's not a heavy or boring book, faaar from it. It's Pratchett at his greatest, making you laugh one minute and go Wait a second here... the next.



   Brutha still said nothing.
   'You can be the next prophet,' said Om. 
   'I can't! Everyone knows Vorbis will be the next prophet!'
   'Ah, but you'll be official.'
   'No!'
   'No? I am your God!'
   'And I am my me. I'm not a prophet. I can't even write. I can't read. No one will listen to me.'
   Om looked him up and down.
   'I must admit you're not the chosen one I would have chosen,' he said.