I guess I just don’t like fantasy books by guys named Terry. Or guys named Terry. Except Terry Crews. He’s the bestest.
This is a direct descendant of Tolkien, I mean, so much so that it reads like The Hobbit. But this bridged us to the Eddings, Jordan, Dragonlance, McCaffrey lineage, which gave us the later greats. So it’s sort of eat your vegetables. I’m at least giving it the trilogy to test it. And it’s not bad. But it’s been so well-trod it’s like reading an ancient museum. It’s full of “We must take the Ring of Rasmusen down the Catmeme River through the Probablysnakes Forest, up the Moorbeer Mountains and into the Perilous Caverns of Cavity Creeps.” It’s also not helping that the Gandalf clone keeps exposition dumping like he’s the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future.
