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Terry David John Pratchett

Discworld 10 - Moving pictures

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Discworld's pesky alchemists are up to their old tricks again. This time, they've discovered how to get gold from silver — the silver screen that is. Hearing the siren call of Holy Wood is one Victor Tugelbend, a would-be wizard turned extra. He can't sing, he can't dance, but he can handle a sword (sort of), and now he wants to be a star. So does Theda Withel, an ambitious ingénue from a little town (where else?) you've probably never heard of.
But the click click of moving pictures isn't just stirring up dreams inside Discworld. Holy Wood's magic is drifting out into the boundaries of the universes, where raw realities, the could-have-beens, the might-bes, the never-weres, the wild ideas are beginning to ferment into a really stinky brew. It's up to Victor and Gaspode the Wonder Dog (a star if ever one was born!) to rein in the chaos and bring order back to a starstruck Discworld. And they're definitely not ready for their close-up!
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351 afgedrukte pagina’s
Jaar van uitgave
2009
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  • Макс Поляковdeelde een impressie7 jaar geleden
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  • Макс Поляковciteerde uit7 jaar geleden
    It looks like it's getting bigger,' whispered Ginger.
    'Go outside,' said Victor. 'Get the wizards to stop it.'
    'What're you going to do?'
    Victor drew himself up to his full height. 'There are some Things', he said, 'that a man has to do by himself.'
    She gave him a look of irritated incomprehension.
    'What? What? Do you want to go to the lavatory or something?'
    'Just get out!'
  • bblbrxciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    Victor’s foot kicked against something which bounced away into the darkness.

    ‘What was it?’ he quavered.

    Gaspode snuffled off into the darkness, and returned.

    ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.

    ‘Oh?’

    ‘It’s just a skull.’

    ‘Whose?’

    ‘He dint say,’ said Gaspode.
  • bblbrxciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    ‘Will you come to my room tonight?’ hissed Ginger. ‘Please? You can wake me up if I start sleepwalking again.’

    ‘Well, er, yes, but your landlady might not like it—’ Victor began.

    ‘Oh, Mrs Cosmopilite is very broadminded,’ said Ginger.

    ‘She is?’

    ‘She’ll just think we’re having sex,’ said Ginger.

    ‘Ah,’ said Victor hollowly. ‘That’s all right, then.’

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