Description

Cracking dialogue, compelling illogic and unchained whimsy  Sunday Times

The Discworld is very much like our own – if our own were to consist of a flat planet balanced on the back of four elephants which stand on the back of a giant turtle, that is . . .

Death comes to us all. When he came to Mort, he offered him a job.

Death is the Grim Reaper of the Discworld, a black-robed skeleton carrying a scythe who must collect a minimum number of souls in order to keep the momentum of dying, well . . . alive.

He is also fond of cats and endlessly baffled by humanity. Soon Death is yearning to experience what humanity really has to offer . . . but to do that, he ll need to hire some help.

It s an offer Mort can t refuse. As Death s apprentice he ll have free board, use of the company horse – and being dead isn t compulsory. It s a dream job – until Mort falls in love with Death s daughter, Ysabell, and discovers that your boss can be a killer on your love life . . .