Guards Guards by Terry Pratchett

This is one of Meister's favorite books. The Meister keeps on reading it at least once every month. The book came at no 69 in the BBC list, much higher than Cholera, Midnight's Children, Godfather, Alchemist and Ulysses.  Am not saying that Guards Guards is better than these....just asking the hoity toity literary guys to keep an open mind...this is just as good as any ofthem....just because this is a fantasy novel and has a happy ending does not mean it is to be frowned upon..

This is the eighth Discworld novel and introduces the men of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch.

The story follows a plot by a secret brotherhood, the Unique and Supreme Lodge of the Elucidated Brethren, to overthrow the Patrician and install a king, who would be under their control. Using a stolen magic book, they summon a dragon to strike fear into the people of Ankh-Morpork, so their "heir" to the throne will be accepted. It is the task of the Night Watch-- Captain Vimes, Sergeant Colon, Corporal Nobbs, and new volunteer Carrot Ironfoundersson--to stop them, with some help from the Librarian of the Unseen University, an orangutan trying to get the stolen book back.

The Watch is in bad condition; they are regarded as a bunch of drunks who just walk around ringing their bells. The arrival of Carrot changes this; Carrot has memorised the laws of Ankh-Morpork, and on his first day tries to arrest the head of the Guild of Thieves for theft. Carrot's enthusiasm rings with the feeling nagging at Captain Vimes; that the Watch should prevent crime. Vimes begins investigating the dragon appearances, which leads to an acquaintance with Sybil Ramkin , a breeder of swamp dragons.

Though the leader of the Elucidated Brethren is initially successful in controlling the dragon; and banishes it when he no longer needs it; he has not counted on the dragon's own magic. The dragon returns, and makes itself king of Ankh-Morpork, keeping the head of the Elucidated Brethren, the now imprisoned Patriarch's secretary, Wonse, as his mouth piece; and demands the people of Ankh-Morpork bring him gold, for his bedding, and regular virgin sacrifices.

Vimes is imprisoned, in the same cell as the Patrician; who has been leading a relatively comfortable life, with the help of the rats he uses as spies. The Librarian helps Vimes to escape; and he runs to the aid of Sybil, who has been chosen as the first virgin to be sacrificed. One of Sybil's dragon's, Errol, fights the king; and wins. While a crowd attempts to close in on the king to kill it, Sybil tries to plead for it, while Carrot places it under arrest; but Errol lets the dragon escape, to be his mate.

The Patrician is reinstated as ruler of Ankh-Morpork, and offers the Watch anything they want as a reward. They ask only for a pay raise, a new tea kettle and a dartboard.

The Meister loves the dedication: "They may be called the Palace Guard, the City Guard, or the Patrol. Whatever the name, their pur¬pose in any work of heroic fantasy is identical: it is, round about Chapter Three (or ten minutes into the film) to rush into the room, attack the hero one at a time, and be slaughtered. No one ever asks them if they wanted to. This book is dedicated to those fine men."

Pratchett got it to the T...the role of the extras in any movie or book...to be cannon fodder...so that heroes can be heroes.....the role of common ordinary proletariats everywhere

The characters of Vimes (who was brung low by a woman), Carrot and Nobby especially attract the Meister. 

Carrot is possibly the king of Ankh Morpork, but he does not want to be...he loves being a copper.......the idea that someone is doing something which he likes and not something which destiny has thrust upon him is something which the Meister finds so appealing......its something the Meister has never been able to do.

Nobby's practicality and cynicism acts as the perfect counterfoil to Carrot's; while the characters of Vimes and Vetinary compliment each other perfectly. 

Everybody in the city...all the rich merchants, assasins, lords, bankers etc had given up and was ready to live life under the dragon, only the 3 watchmen who got only around 20-30 dollars a month as wages tried to kill it.......because of a sense of duty...becuase they felt that they are supposed to defend the city because they are gettign their wages........this is a perfect example of real world where the corporates expect us and encourage us to sacrifice our lives so that they get profit.....we  the fools keep on doing it thinking it is our duty.....

At the ending all the rich people of the city get together to give rewards to the poor watchmen......but the watchmen only ask for a wage increase, a kettle and a dartboard...and even then they are scared that they will be punished for asking for the dartboard................quite similar to our real lives isn't it????

Pratchett is undoubtedly a true great...one of the all time great British authors......he deserves his place i nthe mantle alongside Shakespeare, Dickens, Wodehouse, and Christie as the best of the country.  Not for nothing does 5 of his books come in the BBC's list of top 100 books to read...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100_2.shtml

http://idealink.vijtable.com/2006/10/05/bbc-top-100-book-list/

Just read the following excerpts to get a good idea about the cracking sarcasm and use of metaphors, irony, symbolism etc......

"...this was the category of all the women, in his entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at."

"I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You're wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides."

And even if it didn't, then there were memories to get them through. Of running, and people getting out of the way. Of the looks on the faces of the horrible palace guard. Of, when all the thieves and heroes and gods had failed, of being there. Of nearly doing things nearly right.

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 hot dogs to the rest.

"Anti-dragon cream. Personal guarantee: if you're incinerated you get your money back, no quibble."

The reason that cliches become cliches is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of conversation.

It was a good, clean challenge: you knew that if you went on chipping away, you'd win through eventually.

It was the "eventually" that was the problem. Eventually Great A'Tuin would reach the end of the universe. Eventually the stars would go out. Eventually Nobby might have a bath, although that would probably involve a radical rethinking of the nature of Time.

"I've always though," said the monarchist ... "that one of the major problems of being a king is the risk of your daughter getting a prick."

There was a thoughtful pause.

"And falling asleep for a hundred years," the monarchist went on stolidly.

"Ah," said the others, unaccountably relieved.

The last rats of Brother Watchtower's self-confidence fled the sinking ship of courage.

Carrot: "Might have just been an innocent bystander, sir."
Vimes: "What, in Ankh-Morpork?"
Carrot: "Yes, sir."
Vimes: "We should have grabbed him, then, just for the rarity value."

A number of religions in Ankh-Morpork still practiced human sacrifice, except that they didn't really need to practice any more because they had got so good at it. City law said that only condemned criminals should be used, but that was all right because in most of the religions refusing to volunteer for sacrifice was an offence punishable by death.

Guard Captain: "If you'd thought, you'd have thought that the king is hardly going to want other dragons dead, is he? They're probably distant relatives or something. I mean, it wouldn't want us to go around killing its own kind, would it?"
Guard: "Well, sir, people do, sir."
Guard Captain: "Ah, well. That's different. That's 'cos we're intelligent."

Colon: "So it'd only work if it's your actual million-to-one chance."
Nobby: "I suppose that's right."
Colon: "So 999,943-to-one, for example--"
Carrot: "Wouldn't have a hope. No-one ever said 'It's a 999,943-to-one chance but it might just work.'"

Carrot: "We could be all that stands between the city and total destruction!"
Nobby: "Yes, but--"
Carrot: "Captain Vimes would have gone! All for one!"
Colon: "Young people today."
Nobby: "All for one what?"
Colon: "Come on, then."
Nobby: "Oh, all right."

"Someone out there was going to find out that their worst nightmare was a maddened Librarian. With a badge."

It was interesting, he felt, that so-called intelligent dogs, horses and dolphins never had any difficulty indicating to humans the vital news of the moment, e.g., that the three children were lost in the cave, or the train was about to take the line leading to the bridge that had been washed away or similar, while he, only a handful of chromosomes away from wearing a vest, found it difficult to persuade the average human to come in out of the rain.

Fingers: "'The significant owl hoots in the night.'"
Doorman: "'Yet many grey lords go sadly to the masterless men.'"
Fingers: "'Hooray, hooray for the spinster's sister's daughter."
Doorman: "'To the axeman, all supplicants are the same height.'"
Fingers: "'Yet verily, the rose is within the thorn.'"
Doorman: "'The good mother makes bean soup for the errant boy.'"
Fingers: "What?"
Doorman: "'The good mother makes bean soup for the errant boy.'"
Fingers: "Are you sure the ill-built tower doesn't tremble mightily at a butterfly's passage?"
Doorman: "Nope. Bean soup it is. I'm sorry."
Fingers: "What about the caged whale?"
Doorman: "What about it?"
Fingers: "It should know nothing of the mighty deeps, if you must know."
Doorman: "Oh, the caged whale. You want the Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night. Three doors down."

The three rules of the Librarians of Time and Space are: 1) Silence; 2) Books must be returned no later than the date last shown; and 3) Do not interfere with the nature of causality.

"There was also the curious incident of the orangutan in the night-time ..."

A number of religions in Ankh-Morpork still practiced human sacrifice, except that they didn't really need to practice any more because they had got so good at it.

 "Of all the cities in all the world it could have flown into, he thought, it's flown into mine..."

It was possibly the most circumspect advance in the history of military manoeuvres, right down at the bottom end of the scale that things like the Charge of the Light Brigade are at the top of.

A streak of green fire blasted out of the back of the shed, passed a foot over the head of the mob and burned a charred rosette in the woodwork over the door. Then came a voice that was a honeyed purr of sheer deadly menace. 
"This is Lord Mountjoy Quickfang Winterforth IV, the hottest dragon in the city. It could burn your head clean off." Captain Vimes limped forward from the shadows. A small and extremely frightened golden dragon was clamped firmly under one arm. His other hand held it by the tail. 
The rioters watched it, hypnotised. 
"Now, I know what you're thinking", Vimes went on, softly, 
"you're wondering, after all this excitement, has it got enough flame left? And, y'know, I ain't so sure myself…" 
He leaned forward, sighting between the dragon's ears, and his voice buzzed like a knife blade: 
"What you've got to ask yourself is: Am I feeling lucky?" 
They swayed backward as he advanced. 
"Well," he said, "Are you feeling lucky?"