When I was 17, I had this boyfriend named Michael. We met while LARPing Star Wars at a sci-fi convention in Lansing, Michigan (seriously, how nerdy can you get?) At the time I lived outside of Chicago, and he lived in a teeny town outside of Ann Arbor, so we spent the summer traveling back and forth by Metra. On one of my many visits out that year, he dropped a few books in my lap, thinking I might be interested. And while my love affairs with David Eddings, Melanie Rawn, and Tad Williams were pleasant and long lasting, it was Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time books that really stuck in my heart.
At the time I first picked up book one, The Eye of the World, I believe the seventh book, A Crown of Swords, had just been published. Having a voracious literary appetite, fueled by a pain condition that kept me bed ridden most days, I sprinted my way through Malkier, the Aiel Waste, the White Tower, and good old Emond's Field by the end of the summer, fully sating my nerdy appetite for swords and magic along the way. I tucked my copies up on a shelf, and ignored them until the next book appeared in paperback. But a year later, when I cracked open The Path of Daggers, I made a horrific discovery.
I was completely lost.
There is such depth of plot and story, I felt I couldn't remember all the subtle nuances between the characters. The politics and scheming left me feeling completely confused as to whom was really allied with whom. I felt as though there was little choice, and put down book eight half finished, so I could pick up book one again and re-familiarize my self with the plot. And it was just as immersive an experience the second time as it was the first, and this time The Path of Daggers was a joy to read. "This," I told myself, "is what I am going to do every time a new Wheel of Time is released."
And so I have.
By book eight, I had moved to Ann Arbor. By book nine, Michael was gone, and I was back in my hometown. By book ten, I was happily married to Jon (and still am!), and finally had enough money to splurge on hard cover editions. By number twelve, Robert Jordan was dead, and having his work compiled and completed by Brandon Sanderson. And now, I stare down at the final volume, to be released this January, and realize I finally will know what happens to Rand, Egwene, Mat, Perrin, and all the rest.
In a way, this blog will be my grieving process-I've waited fifteen years for the end, now what do I have to look forward to? But I will also fill it with my own impressions, character lists, and snarky asides (seriously, expect some major derision over the cover art.) I'm starting at the prequel novel, The New Spring, and will continue straight through until I finish A Memory of Light, sometime this January. No other books or short stories, but a four million word, four month orgy of Aes Sedai. This blog will be full of spoilers, plot points, and possibly expletives.
Care to join me?
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