It’s a long time since I read any Pratchett. I’ve been meaning to catch up for ages, but as it happens this is the first I’ve read since he died in March 2015. What can I say? Reading Pratchett again is like putting on a favourite old hoody. This book in particular is quite gentle and warm; there’s a looming conflict as the elves prepare an incursion into the Disc’s reality, but that doesn’t feel like the point; the point is surely all of Tiffany Aching’s meditations on rural families and responsibilities, as she inherits the mantle of the venerable Granny Weatherwax. Meanwhile, the railways are spreading and racial divisions are crumbling. Like all Discworld novels then it’s a book about change and progress, but there’s something in this one about the differences between the old and young too. Or rather, the differences between the worlds they live in.