I've never gotten into Pratchett. There's something about this breed of humorous novels that rubs me the wrong way; at the risk of opening myself up to arson, I'll call it "obvious" humor novels. Novels which present long-form stories written in the manner of a Dave Barry column; which is fine for a column, but trying over the course of an entire book. Dave Barry's written some of those, too, and I've had the same reaction.

I know a lot of folks like Terry. And it's funny, because I don't hate humor or anything. I love Douglas Adams. I make bad puns all the time. I guess there's just something about Pratchett's style I don't cotton on to. I made the attempt with this book, specifically, because of its parodic relationship with Phantom of the Opera.

Now there are aspects of this relationship which are quite funny; a bit of meta-Phantom that, for fans, is amusing. But only that. The book elicited a few chuckles, but as a whole, I found it weak. I think this is mostly due to some prejudice on my part as to what makes a good novel; or, at any rate, a novel I like. There are many varieties of humor, and I just don't respond well to what I see as overt humor; though word-play is involved, it doesn't feel like wit so much as slapstick. Or a sitcom.

As to its Phantom elements, there is a man (or two) in a mask, a chandelier, some Lloyd Webber ribbing, and an astonishingly daft Christine, but it all comes to very little, and seems present only as one might include a popular Smashmouth tune in a movie.

Then again, I really liked Can't Hardly Wait, so I've no excuse.