It’s Monday and you know what that means! It’s Good Omens time once again! I’m Meghan, your friendly host with the most, and I’m so excited to see you again! This week’s selection features some of my favorite scenes in the book, so you know it’s going to be good! Here we go…
Summary
Things are bad. Dog laments this sudden shift in his master’s personality: He doesn’t want to go back to being a hellhound. He just got used to life as a scrappy little mutt. It’s not fair! The Them are half terrified as they follow Adam. They have no choice. He finds a good spot to wait for the end of the world and they sit there. He tells them that after everything is over, he’ll make new parents for them—ones that won’t make them take baths or clean their rooms. The Them know this is terribly, horribly wrong, but there’s no way they can even articulate that to Adam, at this point.
The world is changing. Rapidly. Trees begin to grow at an accelerated rate, destroying everything in their path. Whalers trawling for more whales stumble upon a kraken instead, and it is enraged at having its slumber disturbed, rising up from the murky depths to seek vengeance.
Anathema and Newt are now caught in the worst of Adam’s storm. Agnes predicted this. She also predicted they’d, ahem, become a Thing. Newt simply can’t wrap his head around it and refuses to believe. He hates the idea that Agnes saw it all happen and can’t shake the feeling of being watched through the centuries by that old biddy. Then again, the world is ending and Newt can’t shake his regrets, either. He and Anathema embrace as the cottage splinters and shakes and seems as if it’s going to fall down around them.
Strange things are also happening in Shadwell’s little flat. For one thing, the pin in Tadfield on his map refuses to stay there. He keeps putting it back, but it keeps leaping away. Shadwell decides to take desperate measures. He needs money and resources to go and save Newt from what must be terrible torture in the clutches of witches. He must turn to his benefactors. The one in the sunglasses is out of the question, but the polite blond man in the smart coat who runs a little bookshop… well, he must be able to spare a few dollars, surely.
Aziraphale is having a bad time. After agonizing over what he now knows about the Antichrist, he finally decides to contact Heaven. Much to Aziraphale’s horror, Heaven is absolutely fine with the fact that Armageddon is about to unfold: They are sure of their impending victory, and demand that Aziraphale leave Earth at once to join them for the final holy battle. This is the opposite of what Aziraphale wants. He could not want anything less than this outcome, and he’s downright appalled that Heaven is willing to sacrifice the entire planet in order to win their war. Aziraphale is utterly beside himself and immediately tries to call Crowley but only gets his answering machine (clearly another demonic invention). He tries desperately to reach him on a second number but that’s when Shadwell appears in a fury, having witnessed Aziraphale’s conversation with the Metatron. The Witchfinder is enraged that his polite, well-mannered benefactor is in fact some kind of demon or something. He yells at him and advances on him, finger pointing accusingly. Aziraphale tries to get the sergeant away from the angelic summoning circle on the floor, but disaster strikes and Aziraphale stumbles into it, disappearing in a flash of blue light. Horrified by what he believes are newfound powers, Shadwell retreats. An overturned candle on the floor begins to burn…
We return to Crowley, who is currently in his absolutely stunning and chic London apartment. It’s the height of sophistication and no expense has been spared. Crowley doesn’t actually live there—he doesn’t need to live anywhere really, but he likes it. He also turns out to be an avid grower of houseplants. He heard about talking to plants in the 70s and thought it was a splendid idea. Crowley doesn’t exactly talk to his plants, though. Instead, he threatens them. As a result, the plants are absolutely terrified of him and are the most beautiful houseplants in the entire city. Crowley is cooling his heels and watching TV as he waits for the end of the world. His boss Down Below speaks to him from the TV, deeply angry with him: the jig is up. Hell has realized that the boy Warlock is not the actual Antichrist. They know Crowley screwed up. By this point, Crowley is 100% done with Hell and Its threats. He turns the TV off and prepares for war.
In a nuclear-grade safe, behind a drawing of the Mona Lisa, Crowley keeps the ultimate weapon. It’s so dangerous that he has to handle it with massive safety gloves and tongs. He can hear the Dukes of Hell who’ve been sent after him as they crash through the door to his apartment building and begin to climb the stairs. He sets up a trap and barricades himself in his office. Ligur enters first and gets a bucket of holy water dropped over his head. With Ligur out for the count, Crowley squares off against Hastur. The phone in the office rings and that gives Crowley an idea. He bluffs and tries to get into Hastur’s head, claiming this is all a test and he’ll ring the forces of Hell to explain. He dials a number, then leaps into the very phone wires. Hastur quickly follows. After they loop through telephone wires for a few seconds, Crowley succeeds in trapping his pursuer in his answering machine. With both demons dispatched, Crowley hops in his trusty Bentley and drives like a bat out of hell.
Meanwhile, Shadwell staggers back home in the wake of “slaying” what he believes was a demon. Madame Tracey finds him panicking on the stairwell and ushers him into her den of sin. Well, really, it’s just her little flat with a crystal ball on the table and a bedroom full of stuffed animals. She coaxes Shadwell into her room to have a lie down and calm his nerves.
Crowley arrives at Aziraphale’s bookshop and is dismayed to find it engulfed in flames. Fearing the worst, he runs right into the fire to try and find his friend. Aziraphale is nowhere to be found in the inferno but Crowley does come upon Agnes’s book. He grabs it just as the roof caves in. He then walks out of the blaze much to the shock and horror of the assembled crowd, gets into his car, and speeds off into the night. If he doesn’t stop Armageddon, those people are going to see worse than a demon with yellow snake eyes walk out of a burning building. He has bigger things to worry about.
Here come the Horsemen. Well, they aren’t exactly using horses this time, but the name has stuck. War arrives at the rendezvous point first, riding a stunning motorcycle. Inside, four actual bikers are huddled around a tall man in black playing a trivia game. They are not the sharpest people in the room. Hell, there are sharper spoons in that dingy diner. War isn’t alone for long. Famine pulls up next, excited to join the festivities. Pollution isn’t far behind, his motorbike leaking and wheezing. Once assembled, they wait for Death. The man in black walks away from the game and joins them. Of course, Death never arrives. Death is always there. The four regular bikers scurry over to talk to them, confused and a touch angry. The Horsemen wear jackets that say HELL’S ANGELS across the backs. That can’t be right. They’re all too clean. One’s a girl! The biker gang demands answers. They get them. Three of the bikers are terrified. One is impressed, much to the chagrin of the Horsemen.
Aziraphale, meanwhile, is currently (and embarrassingly) without corporeal form thanks to Shadwell’s interference. He has to get to Tadfield somehow, though. He bounces around different bodies, searching for something close to the town. In one of the standout scenes in the novel, Aziraphale hops into the body of an American TV evangelical fire-and-brimstone preacher. It’s alarming for both of them. The preacher thinks he’s been possessed by a demon. Aziraphale realizes with stunned awe that he’s on TV.
Finally, we end with Crowley. He lets the car drive as he thumbs through Agnes’ book. He discovers one of Aziraphale’s notes tucked in between the pages and suddenly realizes the same great, terrible truth that his friend had learned: It was Tadfield. It had always been Tadfield.
Commentary
A long chunk of Good Omens to discuss this week, but an excellent one, if I do say so myself. Truly the beginning of the end. So many excellent set pieces, and so many great lines. Now all the pieces are coming together and it’s beautiful. We get a bit of everything this time: Shadwell, the Horsemen, the Them and Dog, and of course our beloved angel/demon duo. You couldn’t ask for more.
Let’s talk Witchfinders first. On one hand, you have Newt learning quite a lot about some of the visions Agnes had concerning him and Anathema. It’s so awkward, but in an oddly nice way (sort of as if Jim and Pam from The Office were a Witchfinder and a witch instead of office drones). On the other hand, we have Shadwell. Good lord, Shadwell. He bumbles his way into finding an actual angel, accuses him of being a demon, and manages to mess up Aziraphale’s corporeal form all on the most important day in all of history. I mean, that’s impressive. Let’s not forget Madame Tracey, who is amazing here. I’ve always felt like Gaiman and Pratchett weren’t particularly nice to her. I don’t think Madame Tracey is stupid. She may not be a nuclear physicist, but she has a stockpile of common wisdoms that she abides by, and they serve her very well.
Aziraphale, for his part, doesn’t let Shadwell’s meddling get him down. Aziraphale has a plan. In what I sincerely think is maybe the best single section in the entire book, he jumps into a bunch of different bodies trying to get close to Tadfield. I honestly alarmed some people on the train to work one morning when I was rereading this part—I always laugh. I can’t help it. The second he jumps into the TV evangelist I just lose it. It’s so perfect. It is a brilliant scene, made better by Gaiman and Pratchett’s sharp writing and even sharper insight into how people behave. I am particularly looking forward to seeing this scene in the show. I need this scene to exist; I need to be able to rewind it and watch it approximately 500 times in a row.
Buy the Book
The City in the Middle of the Night
Speaking of scenes that I hope we’ll see in the show, there’s Crowley’s inventive battle against the two demon lords. In terms of the adaptation, this is a minor point of concern, depending on how they decide to update the novel: The entire scene, this entire plot point, hinges on the fact that Crowley has a phone that is attached to a wall along with an answering machine. The answering machine even has a cassette in it! (Those were dark times, weren’t they?) I have to wonder how the show will pull this off, then… If they update the book and set it in 2019, you can’t have this scene. It wouldn’t work with an iPhone. Unless Crowley just never updated his home phone system, which doesn’t track, since the book mentions that he updates his computer a few times a month because he assumes his human persona would do so. Crowley would have the latest, most cutting-edge smartphone that money could buy. The other option is keep the story in the early ’90s, as it is in the book, and just go on from there. Part of me thinks that is the direction the show will choose. The trailer had a scene with Crowley in a phone booth, and there’s no way he’d be caught dead in one of those if he had a smartphone. Either way, this is one of my big questions, in terms of the show. Plus, if they do decide to keep this scene, how in the hell do they film it?
Lastly, the Horsemen are back. They’ve assembled like they’re a really dark version of the Avengers, and they’re clearly ready to start tearing everything down. I never understood the idea to make them bikers, except that it looks really cool and gives us the dim but hilarious mortal bikers who become their entourage. There’s some excellent pun work by Gaiman and Pratchett here, as well. This is another instance where these characters’ accents just leap off the page. I can hear all of them so clearly. The Horsemen are all genuinely vaguely terrifying, and it’s interesting to see the way their mere presence changes the environment around them. Also, literally nothing fazes that waitress. If only she knew…
Pun Corner
Ah, this was a long installment this week, but we’re finally here in the happiest of all places! Yes, it’s time again for Pun Corner, and some of our favorite punny (or just plain funny) lines from this chapter so far:
[On the whaling ship] The captain glared at several million yen worth of cutting-edge technology, and thumped it.
I mean, honestly, it’s the only way sometimes. I guarantee you there’s probably been a scientist over at CERN who has smacked the Large Hadron Collider when it was acting glitchy. Sometimes technology just need a good thumping.
[Crowley] “Hello? Aziraphale! For G-, for Sa-, for somebody’s sake! Aziraphale!”
I know he’s freaking out and trying to find his buddy in his burning bookstore, but there’s something so endearing and funny about how he fumbles his words here. Then again, who would he swear to? Crowley, have you considered our lord and savior Freddie Mercury?
[Big Ted, believing the Horsemen to be Hell’s Angels] “What chapter are you from, then?”
REVELATIONS, he said. CHAPTER SIX.
If they made the Horsemen bikers just for this one incredible line, it was worth it.
That’s all for today. Thank you for sticking around for a longer recap—there was so much to cover! Everything is happening so fast, at this point in the novel. Saturday isn’t even over yet! For next week, read pages 281 to 326, ending on the line “‘Sort of,’ said Adam.”
Next week, we’re in for some stellar moments with Shadwell, Madame Tracey, and nuclear Armageddon. What could be more fun? See you then!
Meghan Ball is an avid reader, writer, and lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy. When she isn’t losing to a video game or playing the guitar badly, she’s writing short fiction and spending way too much time on Twitter. You can find her there @EldritchGirl. She currently lives in a weird part of New Jersey.
In Typo Corner, mostly grocer’s apostrophes this week, plus one rogue…
I think that’s all actually, did I catch them all?
@1 – Fixed, thanks!
The fate of the Kappamaki is one of my all time favourite scenes in literature.
Better yet, Kappamaki is a type of sushi roll, specifically a cucumber one, and ten billion sushi dinners cry out for vengeance. It also quietly pokes fun at the traditional confusion between sashimi which is the raw fish and sushi which is the rolled rice.
REVELATIONS, he said. CHAPTER SIX.
Definitely one of the best one liners ever.
You also missed Crowley frantically trying to contact the multitudes of the Witchfinder Army, only to find that they were both out and the receptionist didn’t understand he was willing to talk to any of the other hundreds of witchfinders, even Majors Saucepan, Milk, Tea or Cupboard.
I think they made the Horsemen of the Apocalypse bikers just so they could retain the image of the four of them riding a horse-like contraption. I don’t think each of them driving their own car, or carpooling for that matter, would strike the correct tone.
I’ve been reading via the audio book, oh several times. What I don’t understand is why the narrator – who is wonderful – decided to change Mr. Black / Sable / Famine’s voice. When he’s Famine, there is a different voice, almost younger an less confidant. It sort of annoys me. All the others keep their original voices.
Something else, I know it is not addressed in the text. Wensleydale as Famine’s counterpart. Why? His lack of imagination? Is there some part of him that is starving? He’s named after a type of cheese, but that paring has always been the oddest note to me.
I can understand why Pollution took over from Pestilence. This was published before the aniti-vax movement was large and before the antibiotic resistant bacteria were becoming well known. Good times those 1990s. I had many hopes that have been dashed since then.
I do like the running joke about Elvis. “I don’t care what the machine says. I never touched the man.”
Poor Dog.
@3 Also important to note that none of those Witchfinders ever existed. If I’m remembering correctly, Shadfield had been inflating the Witchfinder army on the books in order to keep his relatively tiny stipend somewhat adjusted for inflation. And being stupendously uncreative, he just tended to name them by whatever he could see at the time in his general environment.
Even if the receptionist understood, there was no one to talk to!
The Them have always been more grounded than Adam (cf discussion about the scale of his belief measuring in Everests); we’ll see later that they’re not just anchors.
@0: much to the chagrin of the Horsemen.
Not really — they’re making fun of the mortals.
In addition to the chaos you list, Shadwell also starts the fire that destroys Aziraphale’s vigorously-guarded collection.
I just flashed on Shadwell and Tracey corresponding to Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett (the former bugf*** crazy, the latter exceedingly practical); I wonder whether either of the authors was thinking of this?
Crowley could keep his Ansaphone as honeytrap/filter; even a post-tape model would have RAM that Hastur could get trapped in, Tron-like.
@@.-@: just so — there had to be some replacement for horses, and even the most male-insecurity-defending sports car doesn’t put its rider up and out like a motorcycle. On the flip side, I can just imagine the four mortals (for their sins) reincarnated at the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, where they’d be massively outnumbered by pseuds who start growing beards a few weeks beforehand and ship their bikes before flying themselves.
@5: wrt Wensleydale being Famine (which IIRC doesn’t come up until later — now they’re just apportioning the world), IIRC he’s overweight; nobody says Famine must himself be starving.
@6: ISTM that Dog is slightly underestimating the smells in Hell — surely there’s blood etc.? — but it wouldn’t be as variegated as a green and pleasant land.
One more typo: Aziraphale is beside himself, please.
@9 – Fixed, thanks.
Annotated Pratchett notes for this portion of Good Omens:
– [p. 152] “The Kappamaki, a whaling research ship, […]”
‘Kappamaki’ is a Japanese cucumber roll.
– [p. 157] “‘There doesn’t have to be any of that business with one third of the seas turning to blood or anything,’ said Aziraphale happily.”
To the few particularly befuddled or atheistic readers out there who at this point of the book still aren’t quite sure what is going on, [the annotator] can only give the advice to take a closer look at Chapter 6 of the biblical Book of Revelation.
– [p. 158] “Hi. This is Anthony Crowley. Uh. I –“
Up to this point in the novel, we have only been told that Crowley’s first name begins with an ‘A’, leading to the false expectation that his name might be Aleister Crowley, as in the famous British mystic, theosophist, black-arts practitioner and “most evil man on Earth”.
– [p. 166] “‘This is a Sainsbury’s plant-mister, cheapest and most efficient plant-mister in the world. It can squirt a fine spray of water into the air.'”
Dirty Harry again. See the annotation for p. 124 of Guards! Guards! .
– [p. 174] “‘”Puppet on a String”! Sandie Shaw! Honest. I’m bleeding positive!'”
American readers will probably not realise that this is the answer to the question: “What song by which artist won the 1967 Eurovision Song Contest for Britain?”
– [p. 174] “‘1666!’ ‘No, you great pillock! That was the fire! The Plague was 1665!'”
The Great Fire of London in 1666 helped to wipe out the bubonic plague that had been afflicting the city since 1665.
– [p. 175] “He had LOVE tattooed on one set of knuckles, HATE on the other.”
Originally, this movie reference dates back to Robert Mitchum in Night of the Hunter. Later it was used by many, many others, including Marlon Brando in The Wild One, Meatloaf in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (an appearance entirely built around Brando’s), and more recently by Robert de Niro in the remake of Cape Fear.
And then there’s The Blues Brothers, where Jake has his name tattooed across the knuckles of one hand, while Elwood needs both hands to spell his name; The Simpsons, where Sideshow Bob (who, like most cartoon characters has only three fingers and a thumb) has LUV on one set of knuckles and HAT (with a line above the A — the standard diacritical mark to indicate a long vowel) on the other; and of course The Last Remake of Beau Geste (see also the annotation for p. 82) where Peter Ustinov, as the sadistic sergeant, has a scene where he sits with one hand partially obscured. We get the impression that he too has HATE and LOVE tattooed on his knuckles. Eventually he moves, and reveals the tattoos actually read HATE and LOATHE.
– [p. 175] “‘I haven’t seen you since Mafeking,’ said Red.”
Mafeking, located near Bophuthatswana in South Africa, was for 80 years the administrative headquarters of the British Protectorate of Bechuanaland (now Botswana). It was the starting point of the Jameson Raid, a disastrous raid into the Boer Republic of the Transvaal in 1895, which led to the South African War of 1899.
– [p. 179] “‘Ere, I seen you before,’ he said. ‘You was on the cover of that Blue Öyster Cult album.”
This would be Some Enchanted Evening (1978), the Blue Öyster Cult’s second live album. Death painted by T. R. Shorr.
See also the annotation for p. 239 of Hogfather .
– [p. 180] The name Citron Deux-Chevaux refers to the Citroen 2CV, or deux-chevaux as it is commonly called in Europe (“chevaux” means horses — ‘CV’ has a (very loose) connection with horsepower).
– [p. 182] “‘Just phone 0800-CASH and pledge your donation now.'”
A transatlantic amalgamation of British and American telephone number formats.
– [p. 184] “…All we need is, Radio Gaga… sang Freddie Mercury.”
Terry and Neil definitely seem to have trouble rendering songs correctly. The line as it appears in the song is: “All we hear is Radio Ga Ga”
The televangelist’s downfall is indeed a sweet, sweet wish-fulfillment fantasy. Or would be if he and Aziraphale weren’t in accurate agreement about the impending apocalypse (despite the Bible’s lack of explicit references to “nukyerler explosions”), which makes the scene grimmer on a reread. It remains a bright, sharp rebuke to all claims about the Rapture – it won’t happen, and people who expect to have a “morally good time” watching everyone else suffer and die don’t deserve Heaven anyway. Heaven doesn’t sound all that appealing in these books, but better than Hell.
The scene of trees bursting through mall and street, and the mall worker breaking the dome so his special tree can get sunlight, is pure glory out of my youthful fantasies.
I do like the diner scene with the Hell’s Angels and the real Hell’s Angels. Especially when Pigbog realizes who they are before the others do, because he had once hidden out in a hotel room where “some bugger Gideon had left his Bible behind.” His terror is warranted, but my misery loves company. I also like one of the bikers having “FISH” and “CHIP” on his knuckles. Good priorities, dude.
Did nearly all of the food in the diner just vanish when Famine walked in? He doesn’t always have that effect.
“I haven’t seen you since Mafeking.” Oh, really? Wars are usually accompanied by famines – during, and after, and sometimes before. (Pestilence tends to, as well. And now Pollution.) I guess that because the anthropomorphic personifications of these things can only be in one place at a time, while their respective phenomena are always happening in multiple places, they somehow haven’t personally crossed paths in a long time. (I think they all threw a party in Yemen recently)
I bet I would score well in the Pollution category of the trivia game. Especially if I cheated and brought the currently-28-page environmental history timeline I’ve been compiling for my own un-enjoyable edification.
“It’s Hell out there.” “No. Not yet.” Horror can be born of such small moments.
There are no female Hellhounds? Humph. There should be.
Yeah, now that cordless phones are rare, there’s less danger of demons traveling through your phone lines. The world has become safer in one way. :-p
I expect “Jesus is the phone repairman on the switchboard of my life” would engage fewer people nowadays. More progress there, too.
@5: True. I shouldn’t be too hard on Pratchett and Gaiman for not knowing how big a comeback Pestilence would make, though I think they underestimated the resilience and resourcefulness of the Horsepersons to a surprising degree.
What’s more fun than nuclear Armageddon? Absolutely anything, aside from demonic maggots. Thus I plan to skip most of the rest of the book. Thanks in advance for recapping it so I won’t need to reread.
I’m puzzled. Heaven wants “the war.” Aziraphale doesn’t. I thought Aziraphale giving Warlock a “good” influence was part of his and Crowley’s attempt to prevent it. But you-all say he recruited the actual St. Francis for that, which I didn’t think would go unnoticed. So was the influencing also Heaven’s plan? Are Heaven and Hell both supposed to influence the child to give each other a fair chance or something, even though Hell is the one sending people (Horsepersons) to actually do The Thing, and they were on their way to it before Adam declared his desire for it? If so, what were Crowley and Aziraphale trying to do? I’ve been told this will be explained later, but as I’m probably not going to reread that bit, I impatiently would greatly appreciate it if someone explained it, in whited-out spoiler text if needed. I don’t know the Biblical underpinnings of this stuff, and didn’t pay overmuch to its discussion in this book
The one in the sunglasses is out of the question, but the polite blond man in the smart coat who runs a little bookshop… well, he must be able to spare a few dollars, surely.
Why would Shadwell think of asking Aziraphale for a few dollars? Aziraphale would probably be able to produce them, but Shadwell would have to take them to a bank or a post office before he could spend them. That would be weird.
Besides, Shadwell seems to be the kind of person who has to be reminded that we now use decimal currency in the UK. He’d certainly think of asking Aziraphale for British pounds – “a few quid”, most likely.
@12
I thought Aziraphale giving Warlock a “good” influence was part of his and Crowley’s attempt to prevent it.
Nope, each was sent by Their Side to try and influence Adam towards their faction. Nothing to do with preventing the war, the only two who would like to do that are Aziraphale and Crowley, and they can’t do it openly. No, both sides WANT the war, they just wanted to cheat in the lead up so that they would have a better chance to win. Instead they are equally balanced. In this setting, neither Heaven nor Hell is actually Good or Evil as we know it, rather both are Bad, with Good being our world Balanced between them. The total victory of either side would be ghastly.
But a previous reread recap said of Aziraphale and Crowley: “They decide to thwart each other and use their infernal and divine influences on the child, hoping to make him grow up a certain way. And, just maybe, they’ll cancel each other out and nothing at all will happen. It’s worth a shot, at least. After all, they have everything to lose.” So were they trying to do it differently than directed, somehow?
@13 You’re not wrong. I should have used “quid” or “pounds”. Sorry, American writing this.
@14 and @15 My understanding is that Crowley and Aziraphale know there’s a time limit on life and it’s connected to Warlock. He’s the antichrist already (or so they think at the time). The potential is there. But if they lean on him a little, nudge him to not be totally good or totally evil they can make sure that when 11 years come to pass and he comes into his powers, he’ll not side one way or the other. Thus, to each of their respective factions, they look as if they are trying to thwart each other but really they’re trying to make Warlock be a balanced force.
can only give the advice to take a closer look at Chapter 6 of the biblical Book of Revelation.
Quite. Revelation, not “Revelations”. It always bugs me when people pluralise it, even if they’re Pratchett and Gaiman.
@15: the recap may have simplified that point. It’s made clear very early that A&C both value much of the world as it is; both are aware (even if A plays dumb in the conversation with the Metatron in this section) that either side’s victory involves the destruction of much of that world. They aren’t like the angels in Dogma — neither has any interest in going “home” (they’ve been away for 6000 years, after all). So they make representations to their respective managements that serve their (and coincidentally our) interests, rather than the Goals set by Induhviduals who may notice every sparrow’s fall but just don’t care. This is especially clear in C’s case — he flat-out lied some days ago about the appearance of the hellhound — but he’s the one who made A see 11 years ago what a bad idea Armageddon is.
@12: There are no female Hellhounds? Humph. There should be. Why? I figure it’s like the Klingons (per original canon) building their battle cruisers without toilets; it makes them meaner.
testing whited out text. Does this show up in rollover?
OK, that worked after a fashion. Continuing to @15 (select to see, whited out just in case anyone else hasn’t finished the book several times already): wrt what’s more fun: the point is that Armageddon (nuclear or otherwise) doesn’t happen (after all, this is the genre’s foremost humorist on the team, not Neville Shute rewriting On the Beach); the fun is how.
@19: I’m sure female Hellhounds could be as mean as males. I guess you mean that male Hellhounds are chronically angrier if they don’t have females to mate with, though I don’t know how they would know what they’re missing. I tend to obsessively wonder about mythical-creature biology.
@21, whited out: When the means by which it almost happens are sufficiently vivid and believable to give me nightmares ever after, the thwarting of it brings me relief but little joy. Clearly not the normal response.
Yes, I intended to express that Hellhounds knew what they were missing. I wasn’t thinking about how — but (a) somebody down there might have had (in the last 6000 years) some notion of telling the hounds what they were missing just for entertainment, and (b) if a hound was ever previously in the world, he probably came back with tales of what their originals do with each other. wrt the rollover (and previous) — different people, different squicks (or worse); I had years of phobia over one of those nasty little children-behave-yourself-or-else rhymes that my kindergarten teacher probably thought was lighthearted.
19: the book makes the explicit parallel with Le Carre-type characters – the agent runners who have been too long in the field and find they have more time for their immediate opponents than their remote superiors. (This probably carried a lot more weight in 1990 than it does to a modern reader.)
That’s why Aziraphale and Crowley keep meeting in St James’ Park, in the British Museum etc. While they are technically both working for the destruction of capitalism and the establishment of a world socialist state/ the downfall of the Soviet empire and the rebirth of freedom and democracy (delete as applicable) neither one of them actually wants to see the tanks rolling through the Fulda Gap and the silos opening in North Dakota. (Ask your parents.) Also they both quite like the inhabitants of the backward but charming non-aligned third world nation (Earth) in which they have been posted all these years and they aren’t fond of the idea that they might become collateral damage because the two superpowers decide to use their country as a cockpit.
19: Did you just compare women to toilets? As in, a male not having a female to “relieve himself” in makes him meaner, just like not providing spaceships with toilets?
Ugh, CHip. Ugh.
@5: Regarding Wensleydale: I always figured it was because modern-day Famine was very Nice and Exact, almost prim; and very (pseudo-) scientific about his pursuits. (Diet book, MEALS and CHOW scientifically designed to look like real food without nutritional value…) That’s Wensleydale’s role in Them – insisting ‘no, it was like all this really’, age 11-going-on-middle-age, designed for a life of chartered accountancy
Maybe the Hastur bit could use a smartphone which gets switched to Airplane Mode once he’s in it?
Did you just compare women to toilets
No, he didn’t, because he was talking about hellhounds not people, but I’m pretty sure you just compared women to female dogs.
28: I’m pretty certain you misread Chip’s comment, and I know you misread mine. Thanks for your answer.
<That annotation:
– [p. 239] “‘Family motto Non timetis messor.’”
This translates to “Don’t fear the reaper”, the title of a well-known song by Blue Öyster Cult.>
Also, “Noli Timere Messorem” is the motto on Terry Pratchett’s coat of arms (although not designed by Hubert Chesshyre and granted by Letters Patent of Garter and Clarenceux King of Arms until 28 April 2010).
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Terry_Pratchett_COA.svg
See Wikipedia entry for (Sir) Terry Pratchett, “Arms” section.
“I’ve always felt like Gaiman and Pratchett weren’t particularly nice to [Madame Tracey].”
Eye of the beholder, perhaps, but to my eye they painted her as a pretty decent character: Level-headed, savvy, sensible, capable. Certainly a better person than Shadwell (she can even see the good in him), who I never cared for, that book burner.
Her response to being possessed by Aziraphale is wonderful!
#8. CHip137
Just a note–the Them are described at the beginning of “Thursday.” Wensleydale is described as having fair, wavy hair and glasses with thick black rims. He is not described as overweight (nor in any other physical way).