Just
finished reading The Colour of Magic, the first Discworld novel by Terry
Pratchett. Began to enjoy it towards the end. Although I have the greatest
respect for the man and mourn his passing, for some reason I just can’t get
into them. I think perhaps it is because I have always been a Tolkien addict –
from an early hippie – type teenager – and have grown up to take fantasy a
little bit too ‘seriously’. I have always followed – and re-read regularly –
Alan Garner, Tolkien, Ursula la Guinn, Susan Cooper and Lloyd Alexander among
others. Perhaps I should try another one at some point, because I can’t help
feeling I’m missing out somehow as various mates are big fans and keep
recommending them.
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