Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman (or the other way round)
Good Omens – The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter Witch.
Preface: “…We were just a couple of guys, okay? We still are. It was a summer job. We had a great time doing it, we split the money in half, and we swore never to do it again. We didn’t think it was important.”
The book is delightful, funny, entertaining, and in a sense beautiful. Kudos for two good writers to come together and produce such a piece of work. The story is about The Armaggedon, that end of the world thing, yeah. But it is also about humans, it is also about England, about the British, about the world, about us, about how we see the bible, the religion, the gods, the devils, the hells, the end of the worlds, the children, and an amusing smattering of everything from here to there to everything you might possibly know about everything.
It seems pretty difficult to quote and share the jokes in the book – too much context is needed. Yup just go read it.
“It’d be a funny old world, he reflected, if demons went round trusting each other.” funny whimsical irony.
“The Great War, The Last Battle. Heaven versus Hell, three rounds, one Fall, no submission. And that’d be that. No more world. That’s what the end of the world meant. No more world. Just endless Heaven or, depending who won, endless Hell. Crowley didn’t know which was worse.
Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition. But Crowley had remembered what Heaven was like, and it had quite a few things in common with Hell. You couldn’t get a decent drink in either of them, for a start. And the boredom you got in Heaven was almost as bad as the excitement you got in Hell.”
Metatron (Voice of God)
Aziraphale (An Angel, … )
Death (Death)” [by death himself. lol.]
This book is beautiful because it, in 2009 A.D. after the year of Jesus Christ as recorded in our puny little books in the grand Universe in this time dilated dimension of string theory and relativity, packs in what two possibly above average educated englishmen would have contained in their neurons about the state of the human inhabited world (in the physical as well as metaphorical sense). Whether heaven is thus, whether hell is thus, whether humans are thus, whether armaggedon is thus, are merely endless stories and stories told by us unto us, and a wealth of all other knowledge distilled into a few hundred pages of summer time foolery and light hearted beer laden chicanery. Summer is a lovely time, life on here is a lovely time and we ought to laugh and joke and play and tell stories of what is, what was and what could have been. The more we learn about ourselves the more we can laugh about ourselves, about our own follies, about the traffic, about the governmnet, about the people, about our idiosyncracies, and about life and death itself.
The ability to laugh at it is, perchance, the only true measure of whether you have truly understood it.