Skip it. Blasphemy, I know, but consider: Equal Rites and Mort, Sir Terry’s first decent books, are 1987 and 1988 respectively. The dreadful Color of Magic is 1983. These stories, with one exception, are 1970-1975! Publishing them is like grabbing Picasso’s third-grade sketches off his parents’ fridge. Sure, there are tiny recognizable glimmers of what is to come, but they’re stepping stones. None of this is actually good nor worth reading.
I didn't mean to read it. I picked it up intending to skim, scan, browse. It didn't work out that way.
This book is amazing. Not only do the authors have an eerie sense for human factors, they can communicate their findings. Well organized, well written, almost even inspirational. It was moment after moment of “aha!”, recognizing so many examples of what I've seen in real life to work and not to work. The gift of genius is to explain something so well that it seems obvious in hindsight; the authors accomplish that.
I think this has the potential to be a life-changing book. I wish I'd read it twenty years ago.
Abandoned, at 24%. This is not good for my 2021 reading challenge: I'm already two books behind. If I were younger I might slog through... but now, with fewer moments left in my life, I choose to enjoy those moments more — and I am not enjoying this book. At all. Disjointed the timeline is, confusingly so. The characters (so far) only superficially drawn: no depth nor feeling, except for (the author's) heavyhanded scorn toward the Bitter Spinster and the Drunken Ex-Husband. The prose, awkwardly florid at times. (Lovely at times, too, but not enough of a balance for me).
Better than I had expected. (The next two are better, but I wouldn't recommend reading them without having read this one as background).
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