If you loved how William de Worde and Sacharissa built a paper from dwarf-run presses while lampooning guilds and high society, you’ll click with Thursday Next’s world, where literature is policed like crime and corporations like Goliath spin reality. The way Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip are both threatening and ridiculous mirrors the gleeful absurdity of arch-villain Acheron Hades kidnapping a character out of Jane Eyre. It’s the same kind of sly, world-aware comedy—just pointed at the canon and bureaucracy instead of Ankh-Morpork.

You enjoyed the quickfire wit in The Truth—from Otto Chriek’s explosive iconography to Vetinari’s understated one-liners—so you’ll adore the banter between Aziraphale and Crowley as they (reluctantly) try to avert the apocalypse. Like William’s newsroom motto—“The Truth Shall Make Ye Free”—this novel pokes fun at grand institutions while finding empathy for everyday people caught in big events, all with that deft, warm comedic touch.

If chasing down the Vetinari frame-up through clues from Wuffles and Otto’s incriminating iconograph shots kept you turning pages, you’ll relish Inspector Tyador Borlú’s murder case straddling the divided cities of Besžel and Ul Qoma. As William unearths the factions behind the plot (and his own father’s complicity), Borlú navigates the near-mystical force of Breach—both stories uncover how a city’s unspoken laws shape truth and justice.

Vetinari’s delicate grip on Ankh-Morpork—and the nobles scheming to replace him—echoes in Shara Komayd’s covert mission to Bulikov, where diplomatic niceties mask brutal geopolitics. As William’s headlines reshape power, Shara’s investigation pries into suppressed divine history and statecraft. If watching the paper tug at the city’s levers of influence thrilled you, this blend of espionage, policy, and myth will hit the same sweet spot.

You felt the heart in William and Sacharissa’s belief that reporting matters—even when it puts them up against thugs like Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip—so you’ll appreciate this portrait of a Rome-based newsroom fighting irrelevance. Characters like veteran stringer Lloyd Burko and obituary writer Arthur Gopal face ethical corners and personal costs that echo the Times’ determination to print the truth even when it bites the powerful.