Filtrer
Langues
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A truly unmissable, beautifully illustrated collection of unearthed stories from the pen of Sir Terry Pratchett: award-winning and bestselling author, and creator of the phenomenally successful Discworld series.
Twenty early short stories by one of the world''s best loved authors, each accompanied by exquisite original woodcut illustrations.
These are rediscovered tales that Pratchett wrote under a pseudonym for newspapers during the 1970s and 1980s. Whilst none are set in the Discworld, they hint towards the world he would go on to create, containing all of his trademark wit, satirical wisdom and fantastic imagination.
Meet Og the inventor, the first caveman to cultivate fire, as he discovers the highs and lows of progress; haunt the Ministry of Nuisances with the defiant evicted ghosts of Pilgarlic Towers; visit Blackbury, a small market town with weird weather and an otherworldly visitor; and go on a dangerous quest through time and space with hero Kron, which begins in the ancient city of Morpork...
A STROKE OF THE PEN is a must-have collection for fans of all ages. -
Kin Arad faisait autorité en matière de design planétaire et elle en avait vu des vertes et des pas mûres au cours de sa carrière de créatrice de mondes pour la Compagnie. Elle avait vu de tout dans les strates géologiques : des bottes en caoutchouc écrasant des ammonites fossiles, des dinosaures portant des bracelets-montres ou brandissant des pancartes "À bas le nucléaire". Elle en avait vraiment vu, des choses bizarres...
Mais ça, ça battait tout.
Aucun doute, c'était bien un monde... plat ! Entouré d'une sphère translucide sur laquelle étaient fixées des étoiles. Bref, la Terre telle qu'on se la représentait au Moyen Âge avec son cortège de dragons, de démons et de Vikings. Un monde où, si l'on s'approchait trop du bord, on risquait de tomber dans le vide...
Mais qui avait pu inventer une pareille planète ?
Pour en avoir le coeur net, Kin n'a qu'une seule solution : partir à la recherche des Maîtres du Disque ? direction le centre du monde, un gigantesque dôme de cuivre incrusté dans une île de sable noir... -
L'affaire se passe sur la planète Widdershins. Dom Sabalos est l'héritier de toute une planète, de la Première Banque de Sirius et de la fortune colossale qui va avec. Il doit aussi devenir le Président du Conseil planétaire. L'ennui, c'est que quelqu'un cherche à le tuer. C'est bien dommage, parce qu'il aimerait élucider l'énigme des Jokers qui ont semé des artefacts étranges dans tout l'univers. Comme ces gigantesques Chaînes d'Étoiles...
Qui n'a pas envie qu'il découvre le Monde des Jokers ? Un adepte du calcul des probabilités, sans doute, qui annonce avec une probabilité de plusieurs millions contre une : Dom mourra assassiné le jour de son premier anniversaire, c'est-à-dire demain. Dommage, dommage... -
Dans le même esprit que Les dragons de Château-Croûlant, 14 nouvelles fantastiquement drôles du maître conteur Terry Pratchett, truffées de batailles à la crème glacée, de pirates, de mages et d'escrocs !
« Croyez-vous à la magie ?
Si la réponse est oui, ces histoires sont pour vous.
Vous y découvrirez, outre une sorcière qui vole sur un aspirateur, des statues ambulantes douées de la parole, une fourmi rebelle - et une tourte géante ! Une de ces histoires a même en germe l'idée qui a donné plus tard naissance à mon roman Les camionneurs.
Écrites à l'époque où j'étais jeune journaliste, ces nouvelles étaient publiées chaque semaine dans mon journal local. Les jeunes lecteurs d'alors ne vous ressemblaient pas par bien des côtés :
Ils n'avaient pas de tablettes numériques ni de consoles de jeux, et le fish and chips était le seul plat à emporter qu'on trouvait en ville. Mais ils étaient exactement comme vous par ailleurs : ils avaient envie de lire des histoires d'autres mondes, de monstres et de personnages bizarres, de voyages extraordinaires et de batailles magiques.
À quiconque doué d'imagination... » Terry Pratchett
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Pour retrouver son fre`re disparu dans la tourmente des conflits frontaliers, Margot se de´guise en garc¸on. Se couper les cheveux et porter un pantalon : facile. Pe´ter et roter en public, marcher comme un primate, c¸a demande plus d'entrai^nement. Pour le reste... une paire de chaussettes roule´es fera l'affaire.
Voici de´sormais le deuxie`me classe Barette, enro^le´ dans l'arme´e de la duchesse de Borogravie. Et la guerre fait rage. Car il y a toujours une guerre en chantier.
Margot s'y retrouve plonge´e en compagnie d'une escouade de nouvelles recrues sans formation. Au coeur des rangs ennemis, il leur faudra de´ployer toutes les ressources du re´giment monstrueux.
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C'est un homme comble´ que le duc Sam Vimaire, commissaire divisionnaire du Guet d'Ankh-Morpork, heureux pe`re biento^t. He´las ! la poursuite d'un dangereux criminel entrai^ne un accident qui le rame`ne dans son propre passe´, en un temps de tumulte et de violence.
Vivre dans le passe´ n'est pas facile mais y mourir e´tonnamment simple. Il doit pourtant survivre car des ta^ches essentielles l'attendent : mettre le grappin sur un meurtrier, s'instruire lui-me^me, de´butant, pour devenir un bon flic et changer l'issue d'une re´bellion sanglante.
A` l'assaut des paradoxes temporels, un « conte d'une ville » fac¸on Disque-monde, avec sa collection de gavroches, de dames a` l'affection ne´gociable (« L'amour au juste prix ! »), de rebelles, de policiers de la Secre`te et autres enfants de la re´volution.
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They say that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it is not one half so bad as a lot of ignorance.
The last thing the wizard Drum Billet did, before Death laid a bony hand on his shoulder, was to pass on his staff of power to the eighth son of an eighth son. Unfortunately for his colleagues in the chauvinistic (not to say misogynistic) world of magic, he failed to check that the baby in question was a son. Everybody knows that there's no such thing as a female wizard. But now it's gone and happened, there's nothing much anyone can do about it. Let the battle of the sexes begin... -
Album du Disque-Monde à colorier
Terry Pratchett
- L'Atalante
- La Dentelle Du Cygne
- 20 Octobre 2016
- 9782841727834
Paul Kidby, l'artiste choisi par sir Terry Pratchett, a illustré Le dernier héros, les couvertures des annales du Disque-monde depuis 2002, et est l'auteur du portfolio de référence : L'Art du Disque-monde.
Si la plume de Terry Pratchett a donné la vie à ses personnages, le pinceau de Paul Kidby leur a permis d'exister. Avec ses dessins au trait en noir et blanc, reprenant ses illustrations les plus populaires ou réalisées spécialement pour cet album - illustrations de personnages aussi emblématiques que Mémé Ciredutemps, Samuel Vimaire, l'archichancelier Ridculle, Rincevent, Tiphaine Patraque et, bien entendu, la Mort - l'album à colorier du Disque-monde est... une lecture ?... indispensable à tout amateur de l'oeuvre de Terry Pratchett.
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This is one of Pratchett's best books. Hilarious and highly recommended' The Times The Discworld is very much like our own - if our own were to consist of a flat planet balanced on the back of four elephants which stand on the back of a giant turtle, that is . . .
___________________ 'It was the usual Ankh-Morpork mob in times of crisis; half of them were here to complain, a quarter of them were here to watch the other half, and the remainder were here to rob, importune or sell hotdogs to the rest.' Insurrection is in the air in the city of Ankh-Morpork. The Haves and Have-Nots are about to fall out all over again.
Captain Sam Vimes of the city's ramshackle Night Watch is used to this. It's enough to drive a man to drink. Well, to drink more. But this time, something is different - the Have-Nots have found the key to a dormant, lethal weapon that even they don't fully understand, and they're about to unleash a campaign of terror on the city.
Time for Captain Vimes to sober up.
___________________ The Discworld novels can be read in any order but Guards! Guards! is the first book in the City Watch series. -
Just because you can't explain it, doesn't mean it's a miracle.' In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was: 'Hey, you!' This is the Discworld, after all, and religion is a controversial business. Everyone has their own opinion, and indeed their own gods, of every shape and size, and all elbowing for space at the top. In such a competitive environment, shape and size can be pretty crucial to make one's presence felt. So it's certainly not helpful to be reduced to appearing in the form of a tortoise, a manifestation far below god-like status in anyone's book.
In such instances, you need an acolyte, and fast: for the Great God Om, Brutha the novice is the Chosen One - or at least the only One available. He wants peace and justice and brotherly love. He also wants the Inquisition to stop torturing him now, please...
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Death has to happen. That's what bein' alive is all about. You're alive, and then you're dead. It can't just stop happening.' But it can. And it has. Death is missing - presumed...er...gone (and on a little farm far, far away, a tall dark stranger is turning out to be really good with a scythe). Which leads to the kind of chaos you always get when an important public service is withdrawn. If Death doesn't come for you, then what are you supposed to do in the meantime? You can't have the undead wandering about like lost souls. There's no telling what might happen, particularly when they discover that life really is only for the living...
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Things like crowns had a troublesome effect on clever folks; it was best to leave all the reigning to the kind of people whose eyebrows met in the middle.
Three witches gathered on a lonely heath. A king cruelly murdered, his throne usurped by his ambitious cousin. A child heir and the crown of the kingdom, both missing...
Witches don't have these kind of dynastic problems themselves - in fact, they don't have leaders. Granny Weatherwax was the most highly-regarded of the leaders they didn't have. But even she found that meddling in royal politics was a lot more complicated than certain playwrights would have you believe, particularly when the blood on your hands just won't wash off and you're facing a future with knives in it... -
Sorry?' said Carrot. If it's just a thing, how can it commit murder? A sword is a thing' - he drew his own sword; it made an almost silken sound - 'and of course you can't blame a sword if someone thrust it at you, sir.'
For Commander Vimes, Head of Ankh-Morpork City Watch, life consists of troubling times, linked together by...well, more troubling times. Right now, it's the latter. There's a werewolf with pre-lunar tension in the city, and a dwarf with attitude and a golem who's begun to think for itself, but that's just ordinary trouble. The real problem is more puzzling - people are being murdered, but there's no trace of anything alive having been at the crime scene. So Vimes not only has to find out whodunit, but howdunit too. He's not even sure what they dun. But soon as he knows what the questions are, he's going to want some answers. -
Do you believe in magic?
Can you imagine a war between wizards, a rebellious ant called 4179003, or a time-travelling television?
Can you imagine that poor old Mr Swimble could see a mysterious vacuum cleaner in the morning, and make cheese sandwiches and yellow elephants magically appear by the afternoon?
Welcome to the wonderful world of Sir Terry Pratchett, and fourteen fantastically funny tales from the master storyteller. Bursting from these pages are food fights, pirates, bouncing rabbits and magical pigeons.
And a witch riding a vacuum cleaner, of course.
'One of the most consistently funny writers around' Guardian
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They say that diplomacy is a gentle art. That mastering it is a lifetime's work. But you do need a certain inclination in that direction. It's not something you can just pick up on the job.
A few days ago Sam Vimes was a copper - an important copper, true - chief of police - but still, at his core, a policeman. But today he is an ambassador - to the mysterious, fat-rich country of Uberwald. Today, Sam Vimes is also a man on the run.
He has nothing but his native wit and the gloomy trousers of Uncle Vanya (don't ask). It's snowing. It's freezing. And if he can't make it through the forest to civilization there's going to be a terrible war.
There are monsters on his trail. They're bright. They're fast. They're werewolves - and they're catching up. -
All this books and stuff, that isn't what it should all be about. What we need is real wizardry.
There was an eighth son of an eighth son. He was, quite naturally, a wizard. And there it should have ended. However (for reasons we'd better not go into), he had seven sons. And then he had an eighth son... a wizard squared...a source of magic...a Sourcerer.
Unseen University has finally got what it wished for: the most powerful wizard on the disc. Which, unfortunately, could mean that the death of all wizardry is at hand. And that the world is going to end, depending on whom you listen to. Unless of course one inept wizard can take the University's most precious artefact, the very embodiment of magic itself, and deliver it halfway across the disc to safety... -
''Cracking dialogue, compelling illogic and unchained whimsy . . .'' Sunday Times The Discworld is very much like our own - if our own were to consist of a flat planet balanced on the back of four elephants which stand on the back of a giant turtle, that is . . . What sort of person sits down and writes a maniacal laugh? And all those exclamation marks, you notice? Five? A sure sign of someone who wears his underpants on his head. Opera can do that to a man . . . It can also bring Death. And plenty of it. In unpleasant variations. This isn''t real life - it''s worse. This is the Opera House, Ankh-Morpork . . . a huge, rambling building where innocent young sopranos are being targeted by a strangely familiar evil mastermind in a mask and evening dress and with a penchant for lurking in shadows and occasional murder. But Granny Weatherwax , Discworld''s most formidable witch, is in the audience. And she doesn''t hold with that sort of thing . There''s going to be trouble (but nevertheless a good evenin''s entertainment with murders you can really hum to) and the show MUST go on. ____________________ The Discworld novels can be read in any order but Maskerade is the fifth book in the Witches series.
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Imaginative, witty and consistent' SFX The Discworld is very much like our own - if our own were to consist of a flat planet balanced on the back of four elephants which stand on the back of a giant turtle, that is . . .
'Beating people up in little rooms . . . he knew where that led. And if you did it for a good reason, you'd do it for a bad one. You couldn't say 'we;re the good guys' and do bad-guy things.' Koom Valley, the ancient battle where the trolls ambushed the dwarfs, or the dwarfs ambushed the trolls, was a long time ago.
But if he doesn't solve the murder of just one dwarf, Commander Sam Vimes of Ankh-Morpork City Watch is going to see it fought again, right outside his office.
With his beloved Watch crumbling around him and war-drums sounding, he must unravel every clue, outwit every assassin and brave any darkness to find the solution. And darkness is following him.
Oh . . . and at six o'clock every day, without fail, with no excuses, he must go home to read 'Where's My Cow?', with all the right farmyard noises, to his little boy.
There are some things you have to do.
___________________ The Discworld novels can be read in any order but Thud! is the seventh book in the City Watch series. -
Lapsus clavis rassemble les meilleurs écrits non fictionnels de Pratchett, à la fois sérieux et surréalistes, allant de réflexions sur les champignons à la condition de l'écrivain (et pourquoi les daiquiris à la banane sont si importants), de souvenirs de grand-mère Pratchett à des spéculations sur la vie amoureuse de Gandalf et à la défense de causes qui lui sont chères.
Avec tout l'humour et toute l'humanité qui ont rendu ses romans si durablement populaires, le présent recueil sort Pratchett de derrière les décors du Disque-monde pour le faire parler de lui-même - homme et jeune garçon, bibliophile et fondu d'informatique, défenseur des chapeaux, des orangs-outans et de la mort dans la dignité.
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This is the first book in the Johnny Maxwell trilogy.
Johnny Maxwell is just an ordinary boy - not smart, popular or rich.
But he does love video games.
And as his parents argue themselves out of a marriage, Johnny plays at becoming humanity's last hope, shooting invading aliens out of a pixelated sky.
Then comes a message from the last remaining alien spaceship: We Wish to Talk.
And suddenly Johnny is thrust into the very real world of the video game, and comes face to face with an alien race that needs his help.
Only Johnny can save them. And this isn't a game anymore . . .
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It's all change for Moist von Lipwig, swindler, conman, and (naturally) head of the Royal Bank and Post Office.
A steaming, clanging new invention, driven by Dick Simnel, the man with t'flat cap and t'sliding rule, is drawing astonished crowds - including a few particularly keen young men armed with notepads and very sensible rainwear - and suddenly it's a matter of national importance that the trains run on time.
Moist does not enjoy hard work. His . . .vital input at the bank and post office consists mainly of words, which are not that heavy. Or greasy. And it certainly doesn't involve rickety bridges, runaway cheeses or a fat controller with knuckledusters. What he does enjoy is being alive, which may not be a perk of running the new railway. Because, of course, some people have OBJECTIONS, and they'll go to extremes to stop locomotion in its tracks. -
Widely thought of as the best book Terry Pratchett ever wrote, this is a story of a Nation, a story of a friendship, a story of growing up and the truths we must learn. It is epic in every sense . . .
Prepare for the world to be turned upside down . . .
For Mau, halfway between boy and man, it happens when a great wave destroys his entire village. For Daphne, it's when the same wave crashes her ship into the island that was once Mau's home. Everything they once had is now so far away, lost to distance and time.
But when Daphne stops trying to shoot Mau (she did apologise for it), and instead uses a salvaged invitation card to invite him to tea, they discover a new home can be theirs.
And then people start arriving on the island - some very good, some very bad. And it's soon clear that Daphne and Mau must fight for their Nation.
Then a discovery is made that will change the entire world forever . . . -
Funny, wise and mock heroic . . . The funniest and best crafted book I have read all year' Sunday Express The Discworld is very much like our own - if our own were to consist of a flat planet balanced on the back of four elephants which stand on the back of a giant turtle, that is . . .
__________________ 'What's so hard about pulling a sword out of a stone? The real work's already been done. You ought to make yourself useful and find the man who put the sword in the stone in the first place.' The City Watch needs MEN! But what it's got includes Corporal Carrot (technically a dwarf), Lance-constable Cuddy (really a dwarf), Lance-constable Detritus (a troll), Lance-constable Angua (a woman... most of the time) and Corporal Nobbs (disqualified from the human race for shoving).
And they need all the help they can get, because someone in Ankh-Morpork has been getting dangerous ideas - about crowns and legendary swords, and destiny.
And the problem with destiny is, of course, that she is not always careful where she points her finger. One minute you might be minding your own business on a normal if not spectacular career path, the next you might be in the frame for the big job, like saving the world . . .
__________________ The Discworld novels can be read in any order but Men At Arms is the second book in the City Watch series.
