I have slowly but surely been working my way through all of the Discworld novels over the past few years, and every one of them is a real treat.
In Reaper Man, Death sort of ...takes a holiday. Unwillingly, and it's a working holiday insofar as Death ends up tilling soil rather than souls, but a holiday.
The trouble is, the second you give Death some time off, Life starts to pile up in very inconvienent ways.
One of the first to notice, is venerable wizard Windle Poons, who is beyond ready to shuffle off his mortal coil. Unfortunately, his mortal coil clings to him rather inconveniently.
I actually read this on my lunchbreaks at work, and hoped that no one thought I was madder than a wet hen when I started quietly giggle-snorting.
The shadowy entities who banish Death to work on a farm have no idea what chaos it will unleash on Ankh-Morpork and the Discworld at large.
Let's just say ... there are shopping trollies, upwardly mobile vampires, and of course, the Death of Rats.
Reaper Man is loaded front, back and sideways with Mr Sir Terry Pratchett's biting wit, satire, and his humanity.
A real treat.
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