Author: Terry Pratchett
Series: Discworld
Genres: fantasy, fiction, young adult, science fiction, humour, adventure
Short summary of the story: At the beginning of the book, Moist Von Ligwig is digging his way out of the cell in which he finds himself incarcerated, using the handle of a spoon (which has worn down into a very sharp shiv). He's so glad to get the mortar from around the large rock ... pulls out the rock ... and discovers there is another rock behind it. A spoon lies in front of the rock.
That's all just at the start of the book, and it never lets up. He is hanged, lives, and is given the job of Post Master of Ankh-Morpork. It's his job, now, to get the Postal Service up and running again. This is ludicrous, because Moist has never held a job in his life! He is, truth to tell, a con artist and only that. Well, his abilities as a con artist will be put to the test in order to get the Postal Service up and running again.
Points: It's been years since I read this book! That's inexplicable and I'm so glad that I was on a 'Pratchett' kick and picked it up to read next. My Goodreads write-up says
This is such a very good read. You can read it as an adventure story (it is that), as humour (oh, yes, don't be drinking anything while you read it!), fantasy (hey, we're in Discworld!) or just as something to read because you feel like reading something. A very wonderful thing is that there are more books featuring Mr. Lipwig (the 'w' is pronounced as 'v').Oh, I love this book. I'd put in favorite quotes but would end up with so many ... just read the book! It's hilarious, poignant and wonderful.
Goodreads has this to say about Going Postal:
Arch-swindler Moist Van Lipwig never believed his confidence crimes were hanging offenses - until he found himself with a noose tightly around his neck, dropping through a trapdoor, and falling into...a government job?
By all rights, Moist should have met his maker. Instead, it's Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork, who promptly offers him a job as Postmaster. Since his only other option is a nonliving one, Moist accepts the position - and the hulking golem watchdog who comes along with it, just in case Moist was considering abandoning his responsibilities prematurely.
Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may be a near-impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office building; and with only a few creaky old postmen and one rather unstable, pin-obsessed youth available to deliver it. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him. Worst of all, it means taking on the gargantuan, money-hungry Grand Trunk clacks communication monopoly and its bloodthirsty piratical head, Mr. Reacher Gilt.
But it says on the building Neither Rain Nor Snow Nor Glom of Nit...Inspiring words (admittedly, some of the bronze letters have been stolen), and for once in his wretched life Moist is going to fight. And if the bold and impossible are what's called for, he'll do it - in order to move the mail, continue breathing, get the girl, and specially deliver that invaluable commodity that every human being (not to mention troll, dwarf, and, yes, even golem) requires: hope.
