The Wheel of Time. I know, with that one title, some of you are completely uninterested in this post now. Please, bear with me, this is not what you think. After I finished A Memory of Light this week, I was thinking about the story and how I would write a review of this book. I was trying to consider how much I could talk about it. I was concerned about spoiling elements of past books. I was worried about the overall length of the book.
Mostly, though, I worried that I am not up to the task of writing this review. I am not a book critic, I play one on the internet. I write about genre fiction contained in a fairly narrow field. This book is something that you could easily label as being literature. Emily would jump on me about that statement. Really, all books should be considered some form of literature, even if you don’t think it adds anything to the culture. To me, though, this is a book that talks about a lot, and one of the things that this book in particular added to the series’ themes, the human condition.
That’s as much as I’m going to say about the plot of this, the last book of the Wheel of Time.
What I am going to talk about is my experience with this series.