Review: Mort

2023-02-27

I decided to speed read another Discworld book; having read Equal Rites and Guards! Guards!, Mort was the natural choice. Conclusion: it's more Discworld. Wacky and strangely thought-provoking world-building, lovable characters, lots of moments that genuinely made me laugh out loud, and out of nowhere, a couple emotional sucker-punches. 5/5, will read more Discworld.

I've added a couple of my favorite passages below, but I wouldn't recommend reading them until you've read Mort youself.

THERE ARE TIMES, YOU KNOW, he said, half to himself, WHEN I GET REALLY UPSET. He turned on one heel and set off down an alleyway at high speed, his cloak flying out behind him. The alley wound between dark walls andsleeping buildings, not so much a thoroughfare as a meandering gap.Death stopped by a decrepit water butt and plunged his arm in at full length, bringing out a small sack with a brick tied to it. He drew his sword, a line of flickering blue fire in the darkness, and sliced through the string. I GET VERY ANGRY INDEED, he said. He upended the sack and Mort watched the pathetic scraps of sodden fur slide out, to lie in their spreading puddle on the cobbles. Death reached out with his white fingers and stroked them gently. After a while something like gray smoke curled up from the kittens and formed three small cat-shaped clouds in the air.

Mort leaned against a tree, panting heavily, and watched Goodie walk around the log to look at herself. “Hmm,” she said critically. “Time has got a lot to answer for.” She raised her hand and laughed to see the stars through it. Then she changed. Mort had seen this happen before, when the soul realized it was no longer bound by the body’s morphic field, but never under such control. Her hair unwound itself from its tight bun, changing color and lengthening. Her body straightened up. Wrinkles dwindled and vanished. Her gray woolen dress moved like the surface of the sea and ended up tracing entirely different and disturbing contours. She looked down, giggled, and changed the dress into something leaf-green and clingy. “What do you think, Mort?” she said. Her voice had sounded cracked and quavery before. Now it suggested musk and maple syrup and other things that set Mort’s adam’s apple bobbing like a rubber ball on an elastic band. “…” he managed, and gripped the scythe until his knuckles went white. She walked towards him like a snake in a four-wheel drift. “I didn’t hear you,” she purred. “V-v-very nice,” he said. “Is that who you were?” “It’s who I’ve always been.”