Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

He'd start mirroring what he read. Philosophers, existentialists or minimalists, would make him sad, or depressed, refusing to either eat or talk. The absurdists would rob his world of all meaning. Romance novels made him into a melancholic, with an endearing gaze unfocused by the avalanche of sentimentality. But fantasy would hit him the hardest: just wanting to fly, only to have his playful impulses let down.

Wang subconsciously thought of her as the long obsolete DOS operating system: a blank, black screen, a bare "C:\>" prompt, a blinking cursor.

Wang subconsciously thought of her as the long-obsolete DOS operating system: a blank, black screen a bare "C:\>" prompt a blinking cursor.

Was she a tank , that rolled down everybody else?
"So what," she muttered with a hint of spite. That was just her. She didn't need a man in her life.

I can't decide if Olaru is a saint, or just weirdly passive aggressive.
First, she says her coach was "kind, generous and good" with the occasional angry outburst.
And in the next paragraph, she quotes a dairy entry on being "slapped across the face, slammed to the ground, and stepped on" by the same coach.

'I am ordering you to make miracles by all means necessary,' said Vetinari. 'Do I make my point? I am sure I could make it somewhat pointier.'
Moist saluted and with no hint of sarcasm said, 'Exactly, sir! Action this day! Miracles are us, sir!'
And laconically Vetinari said, 'Try to make it yesterday, Mister Lipwig.'

''Before you go you can have a day off in lieu! And I don't say that to many people."
Moist cleared his throat. "Actually, er, Harry, you don't in fact employ me. The city does."
"Does that mean I can't sack you?"
"I'm afraid so, Harry."
Harry snorted with laughter. "I hate having people around I can't sack. It's unnatural"

Lipwig had done some heavy work once and couldn't see any future in it, but he could look at it for hours, provided other people were doing it, of course...

"I was just reading Mr. Caldwell's latest Casebook on the boat -"
"That awful dime novel rubbish?" said Dr. Whyborne, and turned bright red.
I winced. So did Mr. Flaherty. "If I could remind you, my dear, that Mr. Caldwell has a gun."
"I almost never respond to literary criticism with homicide," I assured him.

"He should' have been a beautiful corpse."

A few nostalgic little short stories, that remind me of my favorite fairy tales from my childhood.

If anyone asks, it's totally this book's fault that my reviews keep swimming in endless commas and run-on sentences.



I'm even considering accusing the author/translator retroactively.

Depressive, frustrating and just plain addictive...

I like the general atmosphere, even though it's a rather depressing one.
The writing style however, bothers me: it feels intentionally flawed, almost daring me to criticize it... 🤔

... sorta cute. And funny. 🤔

"You have found forty-foot killer golems now, Miss Dearheart?"
"No, sir. There aren't any."
"Well, never mind. I'm sure some ingenious person will devise one for you eventually. When they do, don't hesitate to refrain from bringing it home."

"I belong to a small group of ladies who run, well, a god of the month club. Er... that is, we pick a god and believe in him... or her, obviously, or it, although we draw the line at teeth and too many legs, er and then we pray to them for a month and then we sit down and discuss it."

How did Vetinari do it? It was what had got him the Patricianship, Cosmo was sure. Well, a couple of mysterious murders had helped, admittedly, but it was the way the man could raise an eyebrow that kept him there.

"But I don't know anything about running a bank!"
"Good. No preconceived ideas."
"I've robbed banks!"
"Capital! Just reverse your thinking," said Lord Vetinari, beaming. "The money should be on the inside."