Maskerade by Terry Pratchett

We are back with the witches in an operatic drama at the mystery dinner theater.  While I'm very glad that Magrat is now gone, I'm not sure if I enjoy the replacement.  I'll need more time with Perdita X. Dream to know for sure--because first impressions are not too strong here.

A cheese baron has bought the oft suffering opera house on the cheap.  Probably because it has a phan--hmm, hmm--ghost and all the actors have superstitions and egos the size of Ankh-Morpork.  But what is our ego in the space of our destiny?  The wit is certainly on point in this novel even if the mystery is wide open.  

I also appreciate the extra scenes with Death, who happens to be my favorite discworld character (though Rincewind runs a tight race with him), especially when he is interacting with Granny Weatherwax.

Nanny Ogg does an exceptionally Ogg job explaining, “You needed at least three witches for a coven. Two witches was just an argument.” She can't just make Agnes join the coven so she tells Granny about her book, The Joy of Snacks, and the money.  How can you not want to read Terry Pratchett's puns?

As the book never gets around to saying, it's not over until the fat lady sings.  I hope you enjoy your night at the opera, but whatever you do, don't sit in Box number eight.