Then it comes into view overhead, bigger than the biggest, most unpleasantly armed starcruiser in the imagination of a three-ring film-maker: a turtle, ten thousand miles long. It is a deep, vibrating chord that hints that the brass section may break in at any moment with a fanfare for the cosmos, because the scene is the blackness of deep space with a few stars glittering like the dandruff on the shoulders of God. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive. However, it is primarily a story about a world. Because this is also a story about sex, although probably not in the athletic, tumbling, countthe-legs-and-divide-by-two sense unless the characters get totally beyond the author's control. It may, however, help to explain why Gandalf never got married and why Merlin was a man. This is a story about magic and where it goes and perhaps more importantly where it comes from and why, although it doesn't pretend to answer all or any of these questions. Only dumb redheads in fifties' sitcoms are wacky.
Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett I would like it to be clearly understood that this book is not wacky.
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