Pyramids, by Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett is very funny, and very British, and very good. This is the second book of his I've read, and though it wasn't quite as uproarious as the last, it makes up for it in philosophical depth. We follow Teppic, the son and heir of the king/god of the Old Kingdom, a desert country that has a fatal obsession with pyramids. These pyramids end up wreaking havoc upon the space-time continuum, and it's up to Teppic to set things right. Pratchett presents this novel with characteristic intelligence and wit, as epitomized in this passage:
"It's not for nothing that advanced mathematics tends to be invented in hot countries. It's because of the morphic resonance of all the camels, who have that disdainful expression and famous curled lip as a natural result of an ability to do quadratic equations." My, do I love the British...


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