Last week, we watched the TV adaptation of Hogfather, which got me to re-read the book. The book is a lot funnier. Pratchett’s written descriptions don’t translate very well to the screen.
The Hogfather is the Discworld‘s equivalent of Santa Claus: a large, jolly fat man who delivers presents to children on the longest night of the year. The Auditors, celestial bureaucrats who take a dim view of the messiness of human existence, decide to have the Hogfather killed. Death takes it upon himself to deliver the presents to children instead, while setting his granddaughter Susan on the trail of the assassin responsible for the chaos.
One of the better Discworld novels. Pratchett entertains us with his characteristic humor, while ruminating on the human condition, notably the nature of belief.