“But we’re a university! We have to have a library!” said Ridcully. “It adds tone. What sort of people would we be if we didn’t go into the library?”

“Students,” said Senior Wrangler morosely”

Terry Pratchett – The Last Continent

There is something wonderfully appropriate about The Last Continent being a story about a place where absolutely everything is dangerous, unreliable or probably trying to kill you, and then having Rincewind turn up as if things were not already complicated enough.

This time, Rincewind finds himself on XXXX, a continent that is very obviously inspired by Australia, although I suspect anyone who has ever spent time there will recognise that the book is having considerably more fun with the idea than any sensible travel guide would recommend. Meanwhile, back at Unseen University, the wizards are dealing with their own crisis involving the mysterious absence of the Librarian and a series of increasingly bizarre attempts to work out what has happened.

It is a gloriously silly setup, but what I particularly enjoyed about The Last Continent is how much social commentary sits underneath all the absurdity.

The obvious target is colonialism and the way cultures can construct stories about themselves. The book pokes at national identity, exploration, scientific progress and the rather human habit of deciding that your own version of history is obviously the correct one. There is also plenty of fun to be had with the idea of civilisation arriving somewhere and immediately deciding that it knows best.

The treatment of XXXX is deliberately exaggerated, but the exaggeration gives the observations plenty of room to breathe. There are jokes about stereotypes, isolation, masculinity, bureaucracy and the peculiar mythology countries develop around themselves. It is not really interested in presenting a serious historical argument, but it does enjoy asking why people believe the things they do and what happens when those beliefs become more important than reality.

Naturally, all of this is wrapped in a considerable amount of nonsense.

There are cultural references scattered throughout the book, particularly Australian ones, and some of them are deliberately broad. The humour comes partly from recognising the reference and partly from watching it get cheerfully pushed beyond anything resembling sensible proportions. It gives the story that familiar feeling of spotting something you know, only for it to come back wearing a ridiculous hat and riding a kangaroo.

Rincewind remains central to the fun because he is, once again, spectacularly unsuited to being anywhere near an adventure. His survival strategy is generally to run away quickly and hope that whatever is chasing him develops an interest in somebody else. I have to admit, there is something increasingly endearing about his complete lack of enthusiasm for heroism.

The story also gives the wizards plenty to do, and their scenes provide a nice counterbalance to Rincewind’s adventures. Their approach to problem solving remains broadly comparable to throwing several large objects at a locked door and declaring victory when something eventually happens. They may be powerful, but competence remains very much an optional extra.

Colin Morgan’s narration is particularly well suited to this book. There is a looseness to his performance that fits the sprawling, eccentric nature of the story, and he handles the shifts between Rincewind’s frantic escapades and the wizards’ rather more sedentary incompetence with ease.

What I especially enjoy is Morgan’s comic timing. He does not need to push every joke. There is often a slight pause or change of emphasis that lets the absurdity land naturally, which makes the characters feel like they are participating in a genuinely strange world rather than simply reciting jokes.

And then there is Death.

Peter Serafinowicz has an almost effortless authority whenever Death appears, and I have reached the point where hearing that voice feels like a small event in itself. There is no need for theatrical overstatement. He simply arrives, sounds completely certain of himself and somehow makes the situation feel even more ridiculous by treating it with absolute seriousness.

Bill Nighy’s footnote performances are equally enjoyable, but in a completely different way. His trademark nonchalance gives the footnotes the feeling of someone standing slightly apart from the main story, quietly observing the chaos and occasionally pointing out something ridiculous without feeling the slightest need to get excited about it. It is sublime, particularly when contrasted with the increasingly frantic events happening elsewhere.

Listening to The Last Continent, I found myself enjoying how comfortably the audiobook balances all these different strands. There is slapstick, satire, cultural parody and plenty of outright silliness, but there is also a genuine affection for the characters underneath it.

The book is not subtle about every point it makes, but I do not think it needs to be. Sometimes a joke involving a wizard, a sheep and an absurdly dangerous landscape is quite capable of making the point without a lengthy lecture afterwards.

The Last Continent is another enjoyable step into a Discworld that is becoming increasingly confident about what it wants to be. It is funny, occasionally ridiculous, surprisingly observant and packed with enough cultural references to keep things moving.

And, as ever, Rincewind would probably like it noted that none of this was his idea.

He would also like to go home.

Preferably somewhere nobody has heard of XXXX.

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