| $@%&! level: Medium-Low (not much swearing, but the little is a bit strong.) “Bedroom” level: Low (One instance, undescribed) Violence level: Medium-Low (You know how War is one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse? Yeah, that.) Back Cover: “We hear the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner. Unfortunately, Sister Mary Loquacious of the Chattering Order has misplaced the Antichrist. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse ride motorcycles. And the representatives from Heaven and Hell have decided they actually like the human race... Good Omens: Have a nice doomsday.” |
I'm having a hard time reviewing here, because mostly when I tell people about this book, I just tell them about some of the good bits, or in extreme cases read the first few pages aloud, and that's really all it takes. What can I say, then?
Well, I can tell you that fans of Terry Pratchett's Discworld will be a bit surprised at Death for having so little sense of humor. Not that he has no sense of humor, just a bit less than the Grim Reaper of Discworld. Maybe he's closer to Neil Gaiman's personification of Death; I don't know. Terry Pratchett does continue his signature use of footnotes, though. And they definitely have the less than complimentary view of America that seems to be so common among the British. Personally, I find even that funny. Hey, if I can't laugh at myself, who can I laugh at, right?
It's just plain hilarious. I keep saying that, because that's the most glaringly obvious trait. It's slightly less thought-provoking than Terry Pratchett usually produces, except for the part about the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. And then there's the nature of humanity, which the authors seem to have concluded is both inherently good and inherently evil. Not only that, but in this version of reality, the forces of good and evil are actually less capable of ultimate good or ultimate evil than the humans they're supposed to be either corrupting or ennobling. It's an interesting thought that in the ultimate battle between good and evil, with the fate of humanity supposedly in the balance, the side you end up cheering for is the one that fights against both. (Apparently too much good would be boring. Like I said, probably sacriligeous.)
So read it for the tongue-in-cheek, satirical rogue of a book that it is. Read it with your “accurate theology” sensor turned to its lowest setting (because it certainly isn't gospel doctrine). Read it to regain a love of humanity, not only in spite of the flaws but because of the flaws. But however you read it, you really need to read it—because if you don't, you won't understand when I randomly quote it at you in conversation.