Picked up this copy in one of those snazzy kiosks in the Vishwavidyalaya metro station, a poor life decision, the chance to put off paper writing for the two days it took to get through all 800 or so pages. Melissa lost respect for me, or pretended to, but it's a fuck's sight better than traipsing around India with Shantaram or William Dalrymple. The first Wheel of Time novel since maybe Lord of Chaos to call riveting. Sorry Robert Jordan, this project should have been taken from your hands years ago (though perhaps not wrested by death, as it happened). No more Wheel of Time as thick, Tolstoyan description, thank God. This was fun, dumb fantasy.
