“British fantasist Pratchett’s latest special-delivery delight, set in his wonderfully crazed city of Ankh-Morpork, hilariously reflects the plight of post offices the world over.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Pratchett’s joy in his creations, in jokes, puns, the idea of letters and language itself makes Going Postal one of the best expressions of his unstoppable flow of comic invention.” — London Times

“With all the puns, strange names and quickfire jokes about captive letters demanding to be delivered, it’s easy to miss how cross about injustice Terry Pratchett can be. This darkness and concrete morality sets his work apart from imitators of his English Absurd school of comic fantasy.” — The Guardian

“Deeply satisfying . . . Sharp-edged humor—and wonderfully executed.” — Kirkus Reviews

“Delightful . . . a surprisingly complex character study in addition to the usual hilarious satire.” — Locus

“Read it and laugh, but don’t forget your brains.” — Locus

“Going Postal is two books in one; an eerie tale of an office huanted by its post, and a searing attack on corporate corruption . . . . The more literal minded might have preferred Pratchett to write about our world directly, rather than in a fantastical mirror, but while such a book may have contained more facts, it would not have been so true.” — Birmingham Post

“Like many of Pratchett’s best comic novels, Going Postal is a book about redemption . . . . There’s a moral toughness here, which is one of the reasons why Pratchett is never merely frivolous.” — Time Out London

“[Pratchett’s] books are almost always better than they have to be, and Going Postal is no exception, full of nimble wordplay, devious plotting and outrageous situations, but always grounded in an astute understanding of human nature.” — San Francisco Chronicle

Suddenly, condemned arch-swindler Moist von Lipwig found himself with a noose around his neck and dropping through a trapdoor into . . . a government job?

By all rights, Moist should be meeting his maker rather than being offered a position as Postmaster by Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork. Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may prove an impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him. Worst of all, it means taking on the gargantuan, greedy Grand Trunk clacks communication monopoly and its bloodthirsty piratical headman. But if the bold and undoable are what's called for, Moist's the man for the job—to move the mail, continue breathing, get the girl, and specially deliver that invaluable commodity that every being, human or otherwise requires: hope.