ARRAY(0xc2808294)
The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents: (Discworld... and over one million other books are available for Amazon Kindle. Learn more

Vous voulez voir cette page en français ? Cliquez ici.


or
Sign in to turn on 1-Click ordering.
More Buying Choices
Have one to sell? Sell yours here
Start reading The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents on your Kindle in under a minute.

Don't have a Kindle? Get your Kindle here, or download a FREE Kindle Reading App.

The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents [Hardcover]

Terry Pratchett
4.5 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (21 customer reviews)
List Price: CDN$ 36.66
Price: CDN$ 31.14 & FREE Shipping. Details
You Save: CDN$ 5.52 (15%)
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Temporarily out of stock.
Order now and we'll deliver when available. We'll e-mail you with an estimated delivery date as soon as we have more information. Your account will only be charged when we ship the item.
Ships from and sold by Amazon.ca. Gift-wrap available.
‹  Return to Product Overview

Product Description

From Amazon

Terry Pratchett returns to children's stories and to his infamous Discworld with Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, a clever spin on the Pied Piper fairytale with a lavish sprinkling of the Practchett magic.

Maurice is a talking cat who leads a band of rather special rats from town to town to fake invasions of vermin. Keith, in cahoots with Maurice, turns up with his flute and leads the rats out of town--a hefty reward in tow. It's a scam that works perfectly... until they arrive in the town of Bad Blintz and their ruse is sussed by the young girl Malicia. Maurice and his mice realise they are about to be caught in the middle of something rather bad.

This is a fresh and funny adventure story that allows Pratchett to make free use of his immense comic talents (the talking rats are easily some of his most hilarious creations). It's also full of cute little ideas: the mice take their names from cans and packets lying in rubbish dumps, so we have heroes called "Big Savings" and "Best Before".

Terry Pratchett has created a wonderful, old-fashioned tale where the subtle morals and lessons never hinder the action. Younger children may initially struggle with Mr Pratchett's unusual style, but once they get to grips with the humour, this will be a laugh-a-minute for both kids and their parents. (Ages 8 and over) --Jon Weir --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

From Publishers Weekly

For this outrageously cheeky tale, British writer Pratchett pairs a dynamite plot with memorable characters a group of intelligent rats sporting such monikers as Hamnpork, Big Savings and Darktan (they've been foraging in the University of Wizards' garbage dump and come up with "the kind of name you gave yourself if you learned to read before you understood what all the words actually meant"), plus a "stupid-looking kid" with a flute and a criminal kitty mastermind named Maurice. The motley con artists' pied piper scam is highly successful until the rats develop a conscience. Reluctantly, they agree to one final heist, but in the town of Bad Blintz things go horribly, hilariously wrong. First, they're twigged by Malicia Grim (granddaughter and grand-niece of the Sisters Grim), then they encounter a pair of conniving rat-catchers, a real pied piper and an evil something lurking in the town's cellars. They triumph, of course, and there's even a glimmer of redemption for the deliciously self-centered Maurice, who tackles the "Grim Squeaker" and bargains for the life of his rat comrade Dangerous Beans. In the end, while the others settle down, Maurice hits the road and is last seen approaching another "stupid-looking kid" with a money-making proposition. Could this mean more tales to come? Readers will eagerly hope so. Ages 12-up.

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

--This text refers to an alternate Hardcover edition.

From School Library Journal

Grade 7 Up-In this laugh-out-loud fantasy, his first "Discworld" novel for younger readers, Pratchett rethinks a classic story and comes up with a winner. His unforgettable characters include Maurice, a scheming and cranky but ultimately warmhearted cat; Keith, a young musician who isn't as dumb as he looks; and half a dozen intelligent rats with personalities all their own. Their plan is simple. The rats steal food, frighten ladies, "widdle" in the cream, and generally make nuisances of themselves. When the town advertises for a piper, Keith appears to lead the rats away, and they all meet up later to divide the loot. It works like a charm until the conspirators stumble into Bad Blintz, a village with not a single "regular" rat to be found. As Maurice's band of rodents poke around in the town sewers, Keith befriends the mayor's daughter, a ditzy girl with a head full of stories. When the humans are captured by evil rat catchers, it's up to Maurice and his crew to save the day. Pratchett's trademark puns, allusions, and one-liners abound. The rats, who grew intelligent after eating magic-contaminated trash behind a university for wizards, now tackle major questions of morality, philosophy, and religion. Despite the humorous tone of the novel, there are some genuinely frightening moments, too, as the heroes confront a telepathic Rat King in the bowels of Bad Blintz. Readers who enjoyed Robert C. O'Brien's Mrs. Frisby & the Rats of NIMH (Atheneum, 1971) and Richard Adams's Watership Down (Macmillan, 1974) will love this story. A not-to-be-missed delight.
Miranda Doyle, San Francisco Public Library
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to the Library Binding edition.

From Booklist

Gr. 6-9. The Amazing Maurice, an opportunistic cat, talks Keith, a "stupid-looking kid" who plays a flute, and a horde of rats (with names like Dangerous Beans, Darktan, Hamnpork, Big Savings, Peaches, and Nourishing) into working pied-piper scams on various towns. In Pratchett's first Discworld novel for young readers, the motley crew readies itself to take on the isolated hamlet of Bad Blintz. Unfortunately, it didn't count on running into the mayor's conniving daughter (to whom everything is part of a fairy tale) or a pair of rat catchers working an evil scheme in the tunnels and sewers beneath the town. What ensues is scary mayhem, leavened with a big dollop of comic relief as the scammers become heroes and, eventually, cut a deal with the townspeople. Kids who like Brian Jacques' Redwall series and Robin Jarvis' Deptford Mice trilogy will feel pretty comfortable with the fast-paced (sometimes gory) action here. Sally Estes
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate Hardcover edition.

Review

"Terry Pratchett is one of the great inventors of secondary — or imaginary or alternative — worlds… he has the real energy of the primary storyteller." — The Times

“One of the best and one of the funniest English authors alive.” — The Independent

“As always, [Terry Pratchett] is head and shoulders above even the best of the rest. He is screamingly funny. He is wise. He has style… Splendid.” — Daily Telegraph --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

From the Publisher

numerous line drawings --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

From the Back Cover

Imagine a million clever rats. Rats that don't run. Rats that fight...

Maurice, a scruffy tomcat with an eye for the main chance, has the perfect fiddle going. He has a stupid-looking kid for a piper, and he has his very own plague of rats - rats who are strangely educated, so Maurice can no longer think of them as 'lunch'. And everyone knows the stories about rats and pipers - and is giving him lots of money...

Until they try the trick in the far-flung town of Bad Blintz, and the nice little con suddenly goes down the drain.

Someone there is playing a different tune. A dark, shadowy tune. Something very, very bad is waiting in the cellars. The rats must learn a new word.

Evil.

It's not a game any more.

It's definitely a rat-eat-rat world down there. In fact, that might only be the start...

Bestselling novelist Terry Pratchett leads readers from tale to tail in a darkly imaginative and fiendishly entertaining story, the first for younger readers set in the Discworld universe, the setting of his phenomenally successful fantasy novels. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

About the Author

SIR TERRY PRATCHETT is one of the most popular authors writing in the UK today. He is the acclaimed creator of the Discworld® series, the first title in which, The Colour of Magic, was published in 1983. Worldwide sales of his books are in excess of 65 million, and they have been translated into 36 languages. He has written a number of titles for younger readers, including The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, which won the Carnegie Medal in the UK, and Nation, which was a Printz Honor Book in the US. He was awarded an OBE in 1998, and a Knighthood in 2009 for his services to literature.

--This text refers to the Paperback edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Rats!

They chased the dogs and bit the cats, they—

But there was more to it than that. As the amazing Maurice said, it was just a story about people and rats. And the difficult part of it was deciding who the people were, and who were the rats.

But Malicia Grim said it was a story about stories.

It began — part of it began — on the mail coach that came over the mountains from the distant cities of the plain.

This was the part of the journey that the driver didn't like. The way wound through forests and around mountains on crumbling roads. There were deep shadows between the trees. Sometimes he thought things were following the coach, keeping just out of sight. It gave him the willies.

And on this journey, the really big willie was that he could hear voices. He was sure of it. They were coming from behind him, from the top of the coach, and there was nothing there but the big oilcloth mail-sacks and the young man's luggage. There was certainly nothing big enough for a person to hide inside. But occasionally he was sure he heard squeaky voices, whispering.

There was only one passenger at this point. He was a fair-haired young man, sitting all by himself inside the rocking coach, reading a book. He was reading slowly, and aloud, moving his finger over the words.

'Ubberwald,' he read out.

'That's "Überwald",' said a small, squeaky but very clear voice. 'The dots make it a sort of long "ooo" sound. But you're doing well.'

'Ooooooberwald?'

'There's such a thing as too much pronunciation, kid,' said another voice, which sounded half asleep. 'But you know the best thing about Überwald? It's a long, long way from Sto Lat. It's a long way from Pseudopolis. It's a long way from anywhere where the Commander of the Watch says he'll have us boiled alive if he ever sees us again. And it's not very modern. Bad roads. Lots of mountains in the way. People don't move about much up here. So news doesn't travel very fast, see? And they probably don't have policemen. Kid, we can make a fortune here!'

'Maurice?' said the boy, carefully.

'Yes, kid?'

'You don't think what we're doing is, you know . . . dishonest, do you?'

There was a pause before the voice said, 'How do you mean, dishonest?'

'Well . . . we take their money, Maurice.' The coach rocked and bounced over a pot-hole.

'All right,' said the unseen Maurice, 'but what you've got to ask yourself is: who do we take the money from, actually?'

'Well . . . it's generally the mayor or the city council or someone like that.'

'Right! And that means it's . . . what? I've told you this bit before.'

'Er . . .'

'It is gov-ern-ment money, kid,' said Maurice patiently. 'Say it? Gov-ern-ment money.'

'Gov-ern-ment money,' said the boy obediently.

'Right! And what do governments do with money?'

'Er, they . . .'

'They pay soldiers,' said Maurice. 'They have wars. In fact, we've prob'ly stopped a lot of wars by taking the money and putting it where it can't do any harm. They'd put up stachoos to us, if they thought about it.'

'Some of those towns looked pretty poor, Maurice,' said the kid doubtfully.

'Hey, just the kind of places that don't need wars, then.'

'Dangerous Beans says it's . . .' The boy concentrated, and his lips moved before he said the word, as if he was trying out the pronunciation to himself, '. . . It's un-eth-ickle.'

'That's right, Maurice,' said the squeaky voice. 'Dangerous Beans says we shouldn't live by trickery.'

'Listen, Peaches, trickery is what humans are all about,' said the voice of Maurice. 'They're so keen on tricking one another all the time that they elect governments to do it for them. We give them value for money. They get a horrible plague of rats, they pay a rat piper, the rats all follow the kid out of town, hoppity-skip, end of plague, everyone's happy that no-one's widdling in the flour any more, the government gets re-elected by a grateful population, general celebration all round. Money well spent, in my opinion.'

'But there's only a plague because we make them think there is,' said the voice of Peaches.

'Well, my dear, another thing all those little governments spend their money on is rat-catchers, see? I don't know why I bother with the lot of you, I really don't.'

'Yes, but we—'

They realized that the coach had stopped. Outside, in the rain, there was the jingle of harness. Then the coach rocked a little, and there was the sound of running feet.

A voice from out of the darkness said, 'Are there any wizards in there?'

The occupants looked at one another in puzzlement.

'No?' said the kid, the kind of 'no' that means 'why are you asking?'

'How about any witches?' said the voice.

'No, no witches,' said the kid.

'Right. Are there any heavily-armed trolls employed by the mail-coach company in there?'

'I doubt it,' said Maurice.

There was a moment's pause, filled with the sound of the rain.

'OK, how about werewolves?' said the voice eventually.

'What do they look like?' asked the kid.

'Ah, well, they look perfectly normal right up to the point where they grow all, like, hair and teeth and giant paws and leap through the window at you,' said the voice. The speaker sounded as though he was working through a list.

'We've all got hair and teeth,' said the kid.

'So you are werewolves, then?'

'No.'

'Fine, fine.' There was another pause filled with rain. 'OK, vampires,' said the voice. 'It's a wet night, you wouldn't want to be flying in weather like this. Any vampires in there?'

'No!' said the kid. 'We're all perfectly harmless!'

'Oh boy,' muttered Maurice, and crawled under the seat. --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Rats!
They chased the dogs and bit the cats, they––
But there was more to it than that. As the amazing Maurice said, it was just a story about people and rats. And the difficult part of it was deciding who the people were, and who were the rats.
But Malicia Grim said it was a story about stories.
It began – part of it began – on the mail coach that came over the mountains from the distant cities of the plain.
This was the part of the journey that the driver didn’t like. The way wound through forests and around mountains on crumbling roads. There were deep shadows between the trees. Sometimes he thought things were following the coach, keeping just out of sight. It gave him the willies.
And on this journey, the really big willie was that he could hear voices. He was sure of it. They were coming from behind him, from the top of the coach, and there was nothing there but the big oilcloth mail-sacks and the young man’s luggage. There was certainly nothing big enough for a person to hide inside. But occasionally he was sure he heard squeaky voices, whispering.
There was only one passenger at this point. He was a fair-haired young man, sitting all by himself inside the rocking coach, reading a book. He was reading slowly, and aloud, moving his finger over the words.
‘Ubberwald,’ he read out.
‘That’s “Überwald”,’ said a small, squeaky but very clear voice. ‘The dots make it a sort of long “ooo” sound. But you’re doing well.’
‘Ooooooberwald?’
‘There’s such a thing as too much pronunciation, kid,’ said another voice, which sounded half asleep. ‘But you know the best thing about Überwald? It’s a long, long way from Sto Lat. It’s a long way from Pseudopolis. It’s a long way from anywhere where the Commander of the Watch says he’ll have us boiled alive if he ever sees us again. And it’s not very modern. Bad roads. Lots of mountains in the way. People don’t move about much up here. So news doesn’t travel very fast, see? And they probably don’t have policemen. Kid, we can make a fortune here!’
‘Maurice?’ said the boy, carefully.
‘Yes, kid?’
‘You don’t think what we’re doing is, you know . . . dishonest, do you?’
There was a pause before the voice said, ‘How do you mean, dishonest?’
‘Well . . . we take their money, Maurice.’ The coach rocked and bounced over a pot-hole.
‘All right,’ said the unseen Maurice, ‘but what you’ve got to ask yourself is: who do we take the money from, actually?’
‘Well . . . it’s generally the mayor or the city council or someone like that.’
‘Right! And that means it’s . . . what? I’ve told you this bit before.’
‘Er . . .’
‘It is gov-ern-ment money, kid,’ said Maurice patiently. ‘Say it? Gov-ern-ment money.’
‘Gov-ern-ment money,’ said the boy obediently.
‘Right! And what do governments do with money?’
‘Er, they . . .’
‘They pay soldiers,’ said Maurice. ‘They have wars. In fact, we’ve prob’ly stopped a lot of wars by taking the money and putting it where it can’t do any harm. They’d put up stachoos to us, if they thought about it.’
‘Some of those towns looked pretty poor, Maurice,’ said the kid doubtfully.
‘Hey, just the kind of places that don’t need wars, then.’
‘Dangerous Beans says it’s . . .’ The boy concentrated, and his lips moved before he said the word, as if he was trying out the pronunciation to himself, ‘. . . It’s un-eth-ickle.’
‘That’s right, Maurice,’ said the squeaky voice. ‘Dangerous Beans says we shouldn’t live by trickery.’
‘Listen, Peaches, trickery is what humans are all about,’ said the voice of Maurice. ‘They’re so keen on tricking one another all the time that they elect governments to do it for them. We give them value for money. They get a horrible plague of rats, they pay a rat piper, the rats all follow the kid out of town, hoppity-skip, end of plague, everyone’s happy that no-one’s widdling in the flour any more, the government gets re-elected by a grateful population, general celebration all round. Money well spent, in my opinion.’

‘But there’s only a plague because we make them think there is,’ said the voice of Peaches.
‘Well, my dear, another thing all those little governments spend their money on is rat-catchers, see? I don’t know why I bother with the lot of you, I really don’t.’
‘Yes, but we––’
They realized that the coach had stopped. Outside, in the rain, there was the jingle of harness. Then the coach rocked a little, and there was the sound of running feet.
A voice from out of the darkness said, ‘Are there any wizards in there?’
The occupants looked at one another in puzzlement.
‘No?’ said the kid, the kind of ‘no’ that means ‘why are you asking?’
‘How about any witches?’ said the voice.
‘No, no witches,’ said the kid.
‘Right. Are there any heavily-armed trolls employed by the mail-coach company in there?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Maurice.
There was a moment’s pause, filled with the sound of the rain.
‘OK, how about werewolves?’ said the voice eventually.
‘What do they look like?’ asked the kid.
‘Ah, well, they look perfectly normal right up to the point where they grow all, like, hair and teeth and giant paws and leap through the window at you,’ said the voice. The speaker sounded as though he was working through a list.
‘We’ve all got hair and teeth,’ said the kid.
‘So you are werewolves, then?’
‘No.’
‘Fine, fine.’ There was another pause filled with rain. ‘OK, vampires,’ said the voice. ‘It’s a wet night, you wouldn’t want to be flying in weather like this. Any vampires in there?’
‘No!’ said the kid. ‘We’re all perfectly harmless!’
‘Oh boy,’ muttered Maurice, and crawled under the seat. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

‹  Return to Product Overview