I love this book. Its so- human, so deeply human. Everything falls apart, and Pratchett could have been cynical, and mocked the whole endeavor of regime change - turning Ankh Morpork into a blood bath- instead, he put grandmothers on the barricades (mind where you put the good furniture!) and the whole civil war afair ended in a happy little turmoil with free steaks and not free pasty (i m obviously ruining myself here). Always think of that book smelling Syringa

I always read that book when i despair about the species, or im hyped by something and want to get down to earth.