In a collection of interviews and articles from 1938 to 2004, cartoonist Mort Walker shows how he has managed to keep his art and stories fresh for more than seventy years of production and offers his thoughts on fellow cartoonists Charles M. Schulz, Al Capp, and Walt Kelly. Simultaneous.
'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 . . . Death comes to us all. When he came to Mort, he offered him a job. Death is the Grim Reaper of the Discworld, a black-robed skeleton carrying a scythe who must collect a minimum number of souls in order to keep the momentum of dying, well . . . alive. He is also fond of cats and endlessly baffled by humanity. Soon Death is yearning to experience what humanity really has to offer . . . but to do that, he'll need to hire some help. It's an offer Mort can't refuse. As Death's apprentice he'll have free board, use of the company horse - and being dead isn't compulsory. It's a dream job - until Mort falls in love with Death's daughter, Ysabell, and discovers that your boss can be a killer on your love life . . . ________________ The Discworld novels can be read in any order but Mort is the first book in the Death series.
A Study Guide for Valzhyna Mort's "Grandmother," excerpted from Gale's acclaimed Poetry for Students. This concise study guide includes plot summary; character analysis; author biography; study questions; historical context; suggestions for further reading; and much more. For any literature project, trust Poetry for Students for all of your research needs.
Death comes to us all. When he came to Mort, he offered him a job. But when Mort is left in charge for an evening, he allows his heart to rule his head and soon the whole of causality and the future of the Discworld itself, are at risk. Along the way, Mort encounters not only Death's adopted daughter, Ysabell - who has been 16 for 35 years - and his mysterious manservant Albert - whose cooking can harden an artery at ten paces - but also an incompetent wizard with a talking doorknocker and a beautiful, but rather bad-tempered and dead, princess. He also, of course, meets Death. On Terry Pratchett's Discworld, Death really is a 7 foot skeleton in a black hooded robe and wielding a scythe. He is also fond of cats, enjoys a good curry, and rides around the skies on a magnificent white horse called Binky.
On my third birthday, my father, in an attempt to get me to stop sucking my thumb, gave me a gun. “Today son, you are a man,” he said, snatching the little blue binky from my little pink hand. So I shot him. So begins Mort Morte, a macabre, coming-of-age story full of butchered butchers, badly used Boy Scouts, blown-up Englishman, virginity-plucking cheerleaders, and many nice cups of tea. Poignantly poetic, hypnotically hysterical, sweetly surreal, and chock full of the blackest comedy, Mort Morte is like Lewis Carrol having brunch with the kid from The Tin Drum and Oedipus, just before he plucks his eyes out. In the end though, Mort Morte is a story about a boy who really loves his mother.