Venugopalan Ittekot Livres

Suddenly, condemned arch-swindler Moist von Lipwig found himself with a noose around his neck and dropping through a trapdoor into ... a government job? By all rights, Moist should be meeting his maker rather than being offered a position as Postmaster by Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork. Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may prove an impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him. Worst of all, it means taking on the gargantuan, greedy Grand Trunk clacks communication monopoly and its bloodthirsty piratical headman. But if the bold and undoable are what's called for, Moist's the man for the job -- to move the mail, continue breathing, get the girl, and specially deliver that invaluable commodity that every being, human or otherwise, requires: hope.

Be careful what you wish for... Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother named Desiderata who had a good heart, a wise head, and poor planning skills—which unforunately left the Princess Emberella in the care of her other (not quite so good and wise) godmother when DEATH came for Desiderata. So now it's up to Magrat Garlick, Granny Weatherwax, and Nanny Ogg to hop on broomsticks and make for far-distant Genua to ensure the servant girl doesn't marry the Prince. But the road to Genua is bumpy, and along the way the trio of witches encounters the occasional vampire, werewolf, and falling house (well this is a fairy tale, after all). The trouble really begins once these reluctant foster-godmothers arrive in Genua and must outwit their power-hungry counterpart who'll stop at nothing to achieve a proper "happy ending"—even if it means destroying a kingdom.

A new Discworld novel. A small, uninhabitable island rises from the sea, and Solid Jackson thinks he's discovered it first. But so too do the Klatchain fishermen, Akhan and Arif. There's only one answer - war!

'Voorstelling waarvan?' zei de Patriciër van Ankh-Meurbork. Alleen hij wist hoeveel spionnen hij had. Deze hier was een knecht bij het Gilde van Alchemisten. 'Weet niet, heer. Ik mocht er niet in,' jankte hij. 'Er was alleen dat geratel en een soort flikkerend schijnsel onder de deur door... En toen moest ik naar Vlees Snikkel voor een schaal warme worstjes.' Schijfwereldse alchemisten hebben de betovering van rolprent en witte doek ontdekt. maar welk duister geheim schuilt er achter de Hollewoudse heuvel? Dat moeten Victor Toegelbrock ('Zingen kan ik niet. Dansen kan ik niet. Kan wel wat met een zwaard overweg') en Telda Wussel ('Ik kom uit een plaatsje waar je wel nooit van gehoord zult hebben') dus maar zien te ontdekken. Rollende Prenten: Een Flitsende Klucht tegen de achtergrond van een Dolgedraaid Ankh-Meurbork.

Susan had never hung up a stocking . She'd never put a tooth under her pillow in the serious expectation that a dentally inclined fairy would turn up. It wasn't that her parents didn't believe in such things. They didn't need to believe in them. They know they existed. They just wished they didn't. There are those who believe and those who don't. Through the ages, superstition has had its uses. Nowhere more so than in the Discworld where it's helped to maintain the status quo. Anything that undermines superstition has to be viewed with some caution. There may be consequences, particularly on the last night of the year when the time is turning. When those consequences turn out to be the end of the world, you need to be prepared. You might even want more standing between you and oblivion than a mere slip of a girl - even if she has looked Death in the face on numerous occasions...