In the eleventh Discworld novel, Death is missing - presumed . . . er . . . gone. Which leads to the kind of chaos you always get when an important public service is withdrawn. Meanwhile, on a little farm far, far away, a tall dark stranger is turning out to be really good with a scythe. There's a harvest to be gathered in.
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Afterlife Friendship Identity Love Life And Death Contemporary Fantasy Fiction Humor Humor & Entertainment