This is the Discworld's last continent, a completely separate creation.
It's hot. It's dry...very dry. There was this thing once called The Wet, which no one believes in. Practically everything that's not poisonous is venomous. But it's the best bloody place in the world, all right?
And it'll die in a few days, except....Who is this hero striding across the red desert? Champion sheep shearer, horse rider, road warrior, beer drinker, bush ranger, and someone who'll even eat a Meat Pie Floater when he's sober? A man in a hat whose luggage follows him on little legs, who's about to change history by preventing a swagman stealing a jumbuck by a billabong?
Yes...all this place has between itself and wind-blown doom is Rincewind, the inept wizard who can't even spell wizard. Still...no worries, eh?
Also, Terry Pratchett would like it to be known that The Last Continent is not a book about Australia. It's just vaguely Australian.
"Pratchett is the funniest parodist working in the field today, period." (The New York Review of Science Fiction)
"Terry Pratchett is simply the best humorous writer of the 20th century. Wodehouse, Waugh, Sharpe, etc. all have their merits, sometimes considerable, but Pratchett really is a cut above the rest." (Oxford Times)
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- Ingo Guenther
A Near-Rinsewind Moment
- Jan Ka