maskerade.

There is only one lovely thing about having the flu. When, on a friday night, someone walks into your room and sees you (a sorry mess in the blankets) still reading a book with about six empty mugs scattered over various surfaces, you can pitifully wave some tissues about and say, "I have flu!" Then you are promptly left alone and have successfully avoided being teased or bullied into going drinking and dancing.

That is the only lovely thing about having flu.

This weekend, Terry Pratchett kept me from spiralling into the deep self-absorbed pit of pity called 'Everyone-Is-Having-Fun-and-I'm-in-Bed'. And Granny Weatherwax happens to make up an entire social circle so I wasn't exactly lacking in entertainment or company.

Maskerade is Terry Pratchett's re-hashed hilarious version/opinion of Phantom of the Opera and opera in general. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though I don't think it's his best. (Can anything compete with Lords and Ladies?) I particularly enjoyed it because last year sometime I happened to read Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera. This book is fantastic and dramatic and very different from the opera version. It is also apparently based on fact which makes it all the more exciting.

But back to Granny Weatherwax, I have realised why she is my favourite Discworld character... Because I actually want to be her. Her self-confidence, her scraggly, terrifying appearance and her independent and exciting spinsterhood are all weirdly alluring. There is a rude, old, brilliant witch inside of me waiting to get out. I wish I could march into a room and demand things, stare people into silence and (well, obviously...) fly on a broom. But I'm far too young and polite and well-brought-up. And of course our very dull world doesn't allow for broom-flying. Most figure this out at a young age.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Granny Weatherwax - well... I actually don't know how to finish that sentence. Hm. For those of you who aren't familiar with Granny Weatherwax - I guess... I'm sorry for you?

I think my enjoyment of this book was doubled because I had jumped so quickly from aristocratic Russians to the bizarre characters living atop of Great A'tuin. Yes, Anna Karenin has come to an end. Which seems unheard of and surprising since these Russians controlled my thoughts for about a month. But it's over now and I can't even think of it. Gone. They are all gone. Strange how a book can leave you so suddenly.

On my bookshelf I have placed Anna Karenin right in between two Discworld novels. With Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and all the kooky characters from Discworld surrounding Tolstoy's genius, I keep expecting to wake up to my bookshelf self-imploding. I go to sleep imagining the characters and plots bleeding across the pages and into the book-next-door and am always surprised that I wake up to perfectly ordinary, functioning bookshelf.

This evening I may begin a birthday book Tess bought for me. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood. Never read Margaret Atwood before but I do like Canadians.