Terry Pratchett fills me with unending guilt because he is my husband's absolute favorite author. I mean, he worships at the altar of Terry. And I give him plenty of book recommendations that he dutifully reads, and I try to read his recommendations.
And I just don't like Sir Pratchett's books. I mean, I loved Equal Rites. I was okay with Wee Free Men -- it was fun, but not really my thing. This one just did not hit any of my buttons.
I do not like Carrot. He is distracting and frustrating to read, and I don't find him amusing. I find him stupidly literal and it's annoying rather than funny.
I'm so-so on Vimes. I mean, he's okay, and he starts showing some personality once he caves and gets a little dragon, but up til then, he's kind of a mopey figure.
I like Lady Ramkin, but even she doesn't really hit a sweet spot for me.
And the villains weren’t either funny or intimidating or silly or anything else -- they were just ...there...for me.
And so I'm frustrated, because I LOVED Good Omens, and I LOVE Douglas Adams, and I just do not click with Terry Pratchett.
I gave up at about 50% of this book, switched over to a Seanan McGuire book, and was instantly laughing 100% more than I was with this.
I feel like my fantasy cred is about to be revoked entirely. I apologize to everyone for not liking this book.