A Deluge of Death

My literary endeavors of late have been rather fatal. A month or so ago I finished James Clavell's Tai-Pan after about 6 months of trying. (I really enjoyed the book, but seemed to have very little time to plow through it.) Having just finished a relative behemoth, I thought I'd recover with something light and fluffy before plunging into some weighty tome again. So what do I do? Plunge into a couple of airy tombs!

I know I can always count on enjoying anything by Terry Pratchett, so I reserved Mort from the L.A. public library. The vast majority of Pratchett's books are set in a world in the shape of a disc that rides through space on the backs of elephants who are in turn standing on the back of a giant turtle. (Where this giant turtle is going is anyone's guess, but evidently he simply plods through the ether bound for somewhere important, at least in his reckoning.)

Pratchett has written dozens of these "Discworld" novels and they are all very clever sci-fi/fantasy type parodies. Pratchett often features recurring characters who come hang out for a couple of novels, then disappear for a while, sometimes slipping in again when bored enough to make a reappearance. My favorite character in all the books I've read so far is Death, a somewhat introspective character who explains to people that he is an "Anthropomorphic Personification." He is a somewhat maudlin creature, intrigued by humans and their culture but unable to quite figure them out. He longs to somehow experience humanity, but his interactions with them (in anything but his "professional" role) are often fraught with missteps, frustrations and disappointments. In Mort, Death's fascination with humanity leads him to hire a human apprentice.

I've been simultaneously reading another book, The Tuesday Club Murders, a collection of Agatha Christie short stories featuring Miss Marple. They are the perfect length to be able to read one each session on the stationary bike at the gym. Nothing like a bunch of stuffy semi-aristocrats doing one another in to help take your mind off your own difficulty in breathing. I've only got another story or two left to read, so I'm wondering if my gym consistency will fall off once Miss Marple has closed up shop.

I suppose, now that I've killed Mort and am sensing the presence of the grim reaper with regard to The Tuesday Club Murders, I should be looking for something a little more life-affirming in my next selection. But once Death has you in his grip, it's pretty hard to shake loose. Light, life and happiness all see so passé.

Vive la Mort!