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Mort is a funny, heartwarming introduction to Death, one of the major Discworld characters. It starts off with Death deciding to take on an apprentice, Mort. Turns out, Death loves curry, has an adopted daughter, Ysabell, and gets REALLY UPSET and VERY ANGRY indeed when people harm or kill cats and kittens. And he rides a horse who is most adorably named Binky.

After starting on his new job and getting acquainted with Death’s household consisting of Ysabell and his servant Albert, Mort starts to realise that one of the reasons for Death taking on an apprentice was so that Ysabell would have a companion to talk with. After showing him the ropes so to speak, Death starts to send Mort on solo missions. One of the souls he has to usher into the beyond is that of young Princess Keli who is about to be assassinated by an assassin sent by her uncle. Unfortunately, Mort falls for the princess and in order to save her kills the assassin instead, thus interfering with fate, precisely something he had been told not to do. Mort is too scared to confess to Death about what he has done, so he just stays silent. Unluckily for him, reality of the history that was to be starts to resist the reality of what Mort has done, leading to the possibility that Princess Keli, whom Mort had saved, might end up dying. So now Mort tries his best to somehow save the princess’ life.

Some of my favourite things about this book are the style of humour and getting to know Death. Death is a cat loving anthropomorphic personification making sometimes refreshing, sometimes very insightful takes about mortals and existence in general:

"TAKE THESE THINGS, NOW, said Death, fingering a passing canapé. I MEAN, MUSHROOMS YES, CHICKEN YES, CREAM YES, I’VE NOTHING AGAINST ANY OF THEM, BUT WHY IN THE NAME OF SANITY MINCE THEM ALL UP AND PUT THEM IN LITTLE PASTRY CASES? ‘Pardon?’ said Mort. THAT’S MORTALS FOR YOU, Death continued. THEY’VE ONLY GOT A FEW YEARS IN THIS WORLD AND THEY SPEND THEM ALL IN MAKING THINGS COMPLICATED FOR THEMSELVES. FASCINATING. HAVE A GHERKIN.”

“He gave it an experimental shake. AND DUE TO LIVE ANOTHER THIRTY, THIRTY-FIVE YEARS, he said, with a sigh. ‘And he goes around killing people?’ said Mort. He shook his head. ‘There’s no justice.’ Death sighed. NO, he said, handing his drink to a page who was surprised to find he was suddenly holding an empty glass, THERE’S JUST ME.”

Death also happens to be very keen on trying to understand more about humans and various human activities, such as how people have fun. This leads to some unintentionally hilarious circumstances: “WHAT IS THIS FUN? ‘This is!’ TO KICK VIGOROUSLY IS FUN? ‘Well, part of the fun. Kick!’ TO HEAR LOUD MUSIC IN HOT ROOMS IS FUN? ‘Possibly.’ HOW IS THIS FUN MANIFEST? ‘Well, it – look, either you’re having fun or you’re not, you don’t have to ask me, you just know, all right? How did you get in here, anyway?’ he added. ‘Are you a friend of the Patrician?’ LET US SAY, HE PUTS BUSINESS MY WAY. I FELT I OUGHT TO LEARN SOMETHING OF HUMAN PLEASURES. ‘Sounds like you’ve got a long way to go.’ I KNOW. PLEASE EXCUSE MY LAMENTABLE IGNORANCE. I WISH ONLY TO LEARN. ALL THESE PEOPLE, PLEASE – THEY ARE HAVING FUN? ‘Yes!’ THEN THIS IS FUN. ‘I’m glad we got that sorted out. Mind the chair,’ snapped Lord Rodley, who was now feeling very unfunny and unpleasantly sober. A voice behind him said quietly: THIS IS FUN. TO DRINK EXCESSIVELY IS FUN. WE ARE HAVING FUN. HE IS HAVING FUN. THIS IS SOME FUN. WHAT FUN.” As the story progresses, it starts getting clearer that the loneliness of his job was getting to him, providing some clue to Death’s actual intentions for hiring Mort: "‘Drowning your sorrows, are you? I HAVE NO SORROWS. ‘No, of course not. Forget I mentioned it.’ He gave the glass a few more wipes. ‘Just thought it helps to have someone to talk to,’ he said. The stranger was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he said: YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME? ‘Yes. Sure. I’m a good listener.’ NO ONE EVER WANTED TO TALK TO ME BEFORE. ‘That’s a shame.’ THEY NEVER INVITE ME TO PARTIES, YOU KNOW. ‘Tch.’ THEY ALL HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I DON’T HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND.” After all, his job was such that “Death must be the loneliest creature in the universe. In the great party of Creation, he was always in the kitchen.”

This is followed by an interesting and humorous phase of Death actually trying to find an alternate job for himself. He ultimately ends up getting the job of a cook at "Harga’s House of Ribs down by the docks” where he thoroughly enjoyed himself as he “spun and whirled, chopping, slicing and frying. His skillet flashed through the fetid steam. He’d opened the door to the cold night air, and a dozen neighbourhood cats had strolled in, attracted by the bowls of milk and meat – some of Harga’s best, if he’d known – that had been strategically placed around the floor. Occasionally Death would pause in his work and scratch one of them behind the ears. ‘Happiness,’ he said, and puzzled at the sound of his own voice.” This leads to a truly hilarious scene when as a result of being summoned during the Rite of AshkEnte, Death appears “wearing an apron and holding a small kitten.”

Death’s efforts with trying to find work that he would actually enjoy doing and Mort’s princess problem inevitably collide leading to a satisfying conclusion. This is the second time I am reading this book and I think I enjoyed and loved it even more than I did the first time around. I would love to share some more jokes here, but then I would probably end up copy-pasting the whole book! This book definitely does the job of making me laugh and feeling a little better than usual.

Fathers and Sons by Turgenev (Richard Freeborn translation) is an interesting character study of Bazarov, a self-proclaimed nihilist in the backdrop of the ideological differences between the “fathers” and “sons”. The “fathers” and “sons” in the title refer to the two different generations of the liberals and the nihilists, respectively. The ideological differences between the two generations, as depicted through the clash between Bazarov and Pavel, constitutes one of the major themes of the novel. It also looks at the inevitability of the generational gap between the sons (Bazarov and Arkady) and their respective fathers, and the futility of trying to reject emotions.

The book is short and has a very simple plot. It opens with Nikolai Petrovich awaiting his son Arkady's return from university, whom he receives accompanied by his friend, Bazarov who aspires to be a country doctor. It soon becomes clear that both youngsters subscribe to the philosophy of nihilism, in which Arkady considers himself to be Bazarov’s “pupil”. According to them “nihilist” is: “‘He is a nihilist,’ repeated Arkady. ‘A nihilist,’ said Nikolai Petrovich. ‘That’s from the Latin nihil, nothing, so far as I can judge. Therefore, the word denotes a man who … who doesn’t recognize anything?’ ‘Say, rather, who doesn’t respect anything,’ added Pavel Petrovich and once more busied himself with the butter. ‘Who approaches everything from a critical point of view,’ remarked Arkady.....nihilist is a man who doesn’t acknowledge any authorities, who doesn’t accept a single principle on faith, no matter how much that principle may be surrounded by respect.’" Frequent clashes ensue, especially between Bazarov and Arkady’s uncle, Pavel Petrovich, who finds Bazarov’s rejection of principles absolutely loathsome. Their exchanges regarding their philosophical differences were quite interesting to read. I especially found one of their exchanges, in which Bazarov was forced into a corner, quite thought-provoking:

""I see,’ interrupted Pavel Petrovich, ‘I see. Meaning you’re convinced of all this and have decided for yourselves not to do anything serious about anything.’ ‘And we’ve decided not to do anything about anything,’ Bazarov repeated sombrely. He had suddenly grown annoyed with himself for having talked so much in front of this lordly gentleman. ‘And just swear at everything?’ ‘And swear at everything.’ ‘And that’s called nihilism?’ ‘And that’s called nihilism,’ "

Bazarov rejects any form of emotions, art and philosophy as “romanticism” and hence just nonsense. Strangely, someone supposedly accepting only cold hard facts had this to say about science: "I’ve already told you that I don’t believe in anything. And what’s this thing called science, science in general? There are sciences as there are trades and vocations. But science in general doesn’t exist at all.’" About love and romance: “.... And what’s all this about the mysterious relationships between a man and a woman? We physiologists know all about these relationships. Just you study the anatomy of the eye—where’s all this enigmatic look, as you call it, come from? It’s all romanticism, nonsense, rubbish, artiness…” In this quarter, he is brought to his knees by Anna Sargeevna Odintsova, whom they first meet at a ball. Odintsova is a beautiful, self-possessed, intelligent woman, previously acquainted with Arkady’s parents, that Bazarov ends up falling in love with. According to Bazarov, "If you like a woman’, he was fond of saying, ‘then try and get what you can. If you can’t, well, no matter, give her up—there are plenty of fish in the sea.’ but then, “....he found he hadn’t the strength to ‘give her up’. His blood was set on fire as soon as he thought about her." He felt disgusted to recognise such romantic feelings in himself. In my opinion, Bazarov is just a very young man gifted with intelligence but afflicted with extreme intellectual arrogance. The characters of both Bazarov and Odintsova are quite well-drawn. Arkady initially comes across as Bazarov’s sidekick, looking up to and almost blindly following his teacher's philosophy. However, as the story progresses, he starts to think for himself. He also starts to see Bazarov’s self-conceit more clearly and moreover why he likes to keep Arkady around: "‘Look, mate, I see you’re still bloody silly. We need Sitnikovs. I—know what I mean?—I need such cretins. It’s not for the Gods, in fact, to bake the pots!’ Aha! thought Arkady—and it was only at this moment that the entire limitless depth of Bazarov’s conceit was revealed to him—So you and I are the Gods, are we? That’s to say, you’re the God and maybe I’m the cretin?"

One of the things I really liked about this book was how beautifully the father-son relationship from the father’s POV was depicted, in the case of Nikolai Petrovich and Arkady. This was Nikolai contemplating the generational gap he was observing between him and his son: "For the first time he was clearly aware of the rift between him and his son. He had a foreboding that with each passing day it would become greater and greater. It turned out that he’d spent days on end one winter in St Petersburg reading away at the latest works of fiction all for nothing; all for nothing had he listened to the conversations of the young men; all for nothing had he been overjoyed when he’d succeeded in inserting his own word into their bubbling talk…..He walked to and fro a great deal, almost to the point of exhaustion, but the sense of peril within him, a kind of searching, indefinite, melancholy disquiet, would not lessen. Oh, how Bazarov would have laughed at him if he’d known what was going on inside him at that moment! Arkady himself would have condemned him. Tears, pointless tears were forming in his eyes, in the eyes of a man of forty-four, an agronomist and landowner—and that was a hundred times worse than playing the cello!"

On the whole, this was a quick and pleasant read featuring interesting characters. My only gripe was not getting to read the internal monologues of characters in typical POV style because of which they felt more distant. #books #bookreview #russianliterature #turgenev #fathersandsons

Small Gods: A masterful comic satire on Religious Institutions and Fundamentalism Small Gods is a fantasy comic satire on religious institutions, religious fundamentalism, philosophy, and the weaponisation of religious fanaticism for political power set in the Discworld. It explores how religious beliefs and faith shift and change over time, from being centred on the deity to being centred on the religious institution itself. Rereading this was an absolute joy!

This is the story of how Brutha becomes the eighth prophet of the god Om. Omnia is a monotheistic theocracy based on the Seven Books of the Prophets of Om, or the Septateuch. Omnia was a place where: "No matter what your skills, there was a place for you in the Citadel. And if your skill lay in asking the wrong kinds of questions or losing the righteous kind of wars, the place might just be the furnaces of purity, or the Quisition’s pits of justice. A place for everyone. And everyone in their place." Vorbis, the exquisitor in charge of the Quisition, enjoyed near complete authority and power over everyone out of fear of the Quisition’s pits. As the story opens, we have Brutha, a novice at the Citadel, working in the gardens when he comes across a tortoise who speaks to him. The tortoise in question is actually the god Om, who inexplicably finds himself in the form of a tortoise and unable to do much more than speak to Brutha in his mind. On Discworld, a particular god’s powers depend on the number of believers the god possesses. As the story progresses, we understand why even though the great god Om was held supreme in Omnia, the actual god Om was at present virtually powerless having Brutha as his only believer. Om starts to understand the reason when he ruminates: "… it can’t be just him who believes in me. Really in me. Not in a pair of golden horns. Not in a great big building. Not in the dread of hot iron and knives. Not in paying your temple dues because everyone else does. Just in the fact that the Great God Om really exists." After all, "Belief shifts. People start out believing in the god and end up believing in the structure….. “Around the Godde there forms a Shelle of prayers and Ceremonies and Buildings and Priestes and Authority, until at Last the Godde Dies. Ande this maye notte be noticed.”’" Religion starts out centred on the god and then ends up centred on the Institution with people going through the motions because it’s what everyone does, or out of fear of the Institution. This had the unfortunate effect of turning the great god Om into a "small god". Similar to the other gods on Discworld, Om doesn't really care or think much of humans beyond realising the need to have believers. As the story progresses, due to his association with Brutha, Om starts to get a better understanding of humankind and also to care for them. Brutha starts out as a novice who simply took everything taught by the religious institution on faith to someone who realises what's wrong with the system and tries to change it.

Similar to a lot of other Discworld books, an underlying sense of anger and frustration permeates this book, with this book probably being Pratchett’s angriest. This is particularly evident when he speaks of the actions of the Quisition, generally involving torture and murder on a regular basis: "And it all meant this: that there are hardly any excesses of the most crazed psychopath that cannot easily be duplicated by a normal, kindly family man who just comes in to work every day and has a job to do. Vorbis loved knowing that. A man who knew that, knew everything he needed to know about people." (A very astute judge of humankind, I must say). And, in relation to the the actual Quisitors: "But there were things to suggest to a thinking man that the Creator of mankind had a very oblique sense of fun indeed, and to breed in his heart a rage to storm the gates of heaven. The mugs, for example. They had legends on them like A Present From the Holy Grotto of Ossory, or To The World’s Greatest Daddy".

Even though the subject matter is serious, there are numerous hilarious jokes, puns and comic twists strewn throughout the book to make a reader laugh out loud. Some of my favourite jokes were: "Nhumrod looked around the garden. It seemed to be full of melons and pumpkins and cucumbers. He shuddered. ‘Lots of cold water, that’s the thing,’ he said. ‘Lots and lots.’" Another one which speaks of the somewhat random rules of religions: "‘I nearly committed a terrible sin,’ said Brutha. ‘I nearly ate fruit on a fruitless day.’ ‘That’s a terrible thing, a terrible thing,’ said Om. ‘Now cut the melon.’ ‘But it is forbidden!’ said Brutha. ‘No it’s not,’ said Om. ‘Cut the melon.’ ‘But it was the eating of fruit that caused passion to invade the world,’ said Brutha. ‘All it caused was flatulence,’ said Om. ‘Cut the melon!’"

I don’t consider this book to be either against religion nor particularly for religion. The case of faith vs doubt is not a theme in this book and is not much of a thing on Discworld considering that the Gods on Discworld are very “present”. Even then, atheists like Simony do exist. In fact a running joke in the book is that people try to put some distance between themselves and atheists because atheists tend to be struck down by lightning (by Io the god of thunder). However, this book definitely speaks out against the use of unspeakable violence and subjugation in the name of god by people like Vorbis, without being in the least bit heavy handed about it. Now there is another thing about this book and Discworld books in general that I have loved, besides the social/religious commentary and humour, is that these books make me feel a little hopeful for humanity in general. In the midst of terrible events we have instances of people sometimes putting aside differences to do the right thing: "He looked around in time to see a wave lift a ship out of the water and smash it against the dunes. A distant scream coloured the wind. The soldiers stared. ‘There were people under there,’ said Argavisti. Simony dropped the flask. ‘Come on,’ he said. And no one, as they hauled on timbers in the teeth of the gale, as Urn applied everything he knew about levers, as they used their helmets as shovels to dig under the wreckage, asked who it was they were digging for, or what kind of uniform they’d been wearing." And, "The black-on-black eyes stared imploringly at Brutha, who reached out automatically, without thinking … and then hesitated. HE WAS A MURDERER, said Death. AND A CREATOR OF MURDERERS. A TORTURER. WITHOUT PASSION. CRUEL. CALLOUS. COMPASSIONLESS. ‘Yes. I know. He’s Vorbis,’ said Brutha. Vorbis changed people. Sometimes he changed them into dead people. But he always changed them. That was his triumph. He sighed. ‘But I’m me,’ he said. Vorbis stood up, uncertainly, and followed Brutha across the desert. Death watched them walk away." This is another reason I have loved this book. I will end this with a couple of thought provoking metaphors I loved from the book:

"‘About life being like a sparrow flying through a room? Nothing but darkness outside? And it flies through the room and there’s just a moment of warmth and light?’ ‘There are windows open?’ said Brutha. ‘Can’t you imagine what it’s like to be that sparrow, and know about the darkness? To know that afterwards there’ll be nothing to remember, ever, except that one moment of the light?’" And another one which speaks of the wonders of the world:

‘Life in this world,’ he said, ‘is, as it were, a sojourn in a cave. What can we know of reality? For all we see of the true nature of existence is, shall we say, no more than bewildering and amusing shadows cast upon the inner wall of the cave by the unseen blinding light of absolute truth, from which we may or may not deduce some glimmer of veracity, and we as troglodyte seekers of wisdom can only lift our voices to the unseen and say, humbly, “Go on, do Deformed Rabbit … it’s my favourite.”’ (This one is also a little funny!)