The Eye of the World

The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan

I picked up the first of the famous Wheel of Time series to try to fill in a gap in my reading in the fantasy genre, and was really disappointed not to enjoy it as much as I was expecting to. I call myself a fantasy fan, so I felt obligated to finish it. It’s a very long book, but I stuck it out, in case there was something at the end to justify the hype. Maybe the ending is amazing enough to justify the thousands of fans and dozens of sequels, I was hoping. 

The language grated on me and was a constant source of annoyance. I enjoy high fantasy language when it’s done well. I love Tolkien, Robin HobbGarth Nix, and Jillian Kuhlman. But Jordan’s language seemed affected to me, not genuine or authentic, like his characters were elementary school kids reading lines in a bad play. I didn’t buy the weird invented words like gleeman (a minstrel–why not just say that?), or the newly-coined curses (“Blood and ashes, Batman!”).

I’m someone who doesn’t shy away from a long book, and who happily dives into thousands of pages when they’re well-written and worth the time to read. But this book is way too long, and its length problem starts at the sentence level. I could edit 10-25% of the scenes and events and side characters out of the story, and then another 10-25% of the words out of every page that’s left. It’s a good general rule that if you need a dictionary in the back to help your reader keep track of your mythology, then you’re either dumping it on too quickly, or you made it too complex, or both.

I thought the characters were annoying and impetuous because they constantly make dumb decisions. Like, don’t tell the wizard who saved your whole town that you’re having dreams where the devil talks to you and you wake up with your dream-pricked finger bleeding. Of course, go explore the creepy ruined city, and follow the guy with no shadow. And then, go ahead and steal a jeweled dagger from an enchanted treasure and hide it while playing with it obsessively. These decisions are so incredibly stupid and genre-blind that I lost patience with them and could no longer dismiss them as motivated by superstition or teenage capriciousness. They were pure distress balls.

A quote on the back of the copy I read said, “Robert Jordan has a powerful vision of good and evil.” But I did not find the portrayal of evil in this book to be persuasive at all. If real evil worked in such a transparent, obvious way, announcing itself and insisting that people bow down to it, evil would be much easier to resist than it actually is. The motiveless, pointless evil of this book’s villain was overblown, caricatured, and flat-out boring. Similarly, all of the talk of the Pattern, and the Wheel that weaves it, is another problem that takes power and meaning away from the characters and their story. If all of the actions of the characters are simply a result of their fate, of the turning of an abstract Wheel, then they have no agency and their choices are meaningless. If that’s the case, what’s the point of reading about them?

There are so many elements of this story that have exact parallels to The Lord of the Rings that it seems like kind of a rip-off. I’m sure others have pointed these similarities out before: idyllic farmland attacked by outsiders, a magic wizard who calls the reluctant hero to join a quest, an epically long backstory. Even the people and places are the same:

  • Orcs = Trollocs
  • Wizard Gandalf = Aes Sedai Morraine
  • Aragorn the Ranger, heir to the throne of Gondor = Warder Lan, the last Lord of the Seven Towers, the crownless king of the Malkieri
  • four hobbits = four teenagers
  • The Shire = Emond’s Field
  • Ringwraiths = Myrdraal/Fades/Half-Men
  • Ents = long-lived, tall creatures that call humans “hasty” = Ogier
  • Misty Mountains = Mountains of Mist
  • Mount Doom = Shayol Ghul in the Mountains of Dhoom
  • Mordor = The Blight
  • The Dark Lord Sauron = Ba’alzamon/Shai’tan/The Dark One

At first I thought the changes Jordan made in rewriting The Lord of the Rings made his story more inclusive because there are many more female characters than in Tolkien’s books. But the gender politics of the One Power are so strange that I’m not sure if they’re progressive or regressive. The principle of balance seems good and neutral, but if balance has to be restored by taking fictional power away from a group that has little real power, I don’t necessarily think that’s a positive and inclusive choice for an author to make.

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You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me

You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me: A Memoir by Sherman Alexie

Sherman Alexie lost his mother in 2015, and this is the book he wrote to deal with his grief. He writes about his difficult childhood living on the Spokane Indian reservation, his volatile relationship with his mother, and the secrets his family kept for years. This book was an education for me about Native Americans and the effects colonization has had on their lives and families. Alexie also writes about his experiences of racism and his reaction to last year’s election. The form of the memoir is fragmented and disconnected personal essays, stories, and poems, stitched together like one of his mother’s quilts.

I knew The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian was autobiographical, but I didn’t realize exactly how closely that story parallels Alexie’s real life. In some ways, reading this book was like reading a sequel to that novel, written by its protagonist as an adult. Grown-up fans who read Alexie’s first novel years ago will enjoy this book as well.

Alexie is a gifted performer and an amazing reader, so his audiobooks are a real treat. He communicates so much more with his voice, adding accents, singing, and tearful emotion. I think if you read his work in print, you’re missing out.