I’ve finally managed to read my latest Pratchett acquisition, Thud!. I have to confess, I’m a little disappointed – it just isn’t as good as some of the vintage Discworld books I know and love. The Hogfather was my first ever Pratchett read, given to me one Christmas by an uncle who is himself an avid Pratchett reader (quite appropriately as the story is about Christmas (in a warped kind of way), and I still love it, along with almost all books featuring Rincewind the inept Wizzard who can’t even spell ‘wizard’. I think people have the Marmite approach to Pratchett – love him or hate him, sometimes without trying him – and I definitely love his stuff. Why has he gone downhill? It happens to a lot of authors – happened to Stephen King, who seemed to lose all ability to write in an engaging manner after his first twenty or so books, maybe less, and then Jilly Cooper whose latest offering made me want to hit her over the head with it, or something equally terrible. Honey, if it has taken you literally years to write a piece of chick lit and it turns out to be 900 pages long, GIVE UP! Is my frustration coming out here?! I tell you something; if the last Harry Potter book is rubbish, I think I’ll actually cry.