Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

For someone who considers himself smarter thaa your average bear and a discriminating reader, i find it hard to rationalize for myself, not to mention the world at large, why I continue to read these books. At least I can take solace in the fact I haven't paid money for any book since five, which of course, has already lost its rick-shaw quality Tor cover. I came down to this realization: I already read eight books, goddammit- I have to think my time is worth something. I read each new book at a slower pace than the preceding one, hoping vainly to validate my needs. Whenever i hear that "BOOK X IS OUT!" I slather at the mouth and beg to be first in line for my more gullibles friends' copies when they finish. This slathering and twitching brings the truth out, for me at least- tWoT is crack, sold in the form of a book. It starts out nice enough, but the high diminshes the more you put in your body. You develope a kind of tolerance to seeing fire thrown through the air and hearing vaguely articulated plots by hidden Forsaken. By the time you hit book seven or so, you are now an addict: you no longer necessarily WANT the next book, but your need for it abides. It can lie dormant for years at a time, in which you can read actual pieces of "Literature"(you know-the good stuff they compare Jordan to when he gives them dumptrucks filled with money), but when you hear those magic words "BOOK X IS FINALLY OUT!" you begin shaking like a dope head whose methadone prescription has run out. You need the fix, and you gobble it up lickety-split. Afterwards you are left feeling dirty, confused, unsatiated and more than a little ashamed. Some readers content themselves with blatant lies, such as the popular "Oh, this book was transitional- he's building to something BIG." So they said in books 4-8. In book nine something happens nine pages from the end, after six hundred-odd pages of filth. This "something" should have happened in book five, max. If Jordan wasn't paid by the word, no doubt it would have been. As it stands, I loathe this series about as much as I'm capable of while still retaining my addiction. In the meantime I will lambast it wherever possible, and after every new book read some real authors in an attempt to get the taste of Jordan outta my mouth. Thank god a Storm of Swords came out a week after Winter's Heart. The joy of reading Martin was more than enough to kill my self-loathing for being a Jordan junkie. Oh yeah, one last thing: I hope all of you Jordano-philes out there have realized the sad truth: he will die before he finishes this damned series. By book thirty one(which will take place about four weeks after book nine, knowing the way he keeps things a'movin') Rand will have seven arms, each tattooed, three pregnant women and a necklace made of forsaken ears. He will have conquered Seanchan in three hours using Callandor, helped by Perrin, whose control over animals will now extend to Elk, weasels and wombats. Why wombats? Because he's Ta'veren, of course. Once the elite Wombats of Manetheren have destroyed the Deathwatch guard and routed the three forsaken fiendishly scheming to control Rand >again<, the last chapter will see a litter of septuplets brought by shaidar haran to Shayol Ghhul. These septuplets will, of course, be reincarnated forsaken sent out to screw up another plan and be disemboweled by the ever increasing power of the slack-jawed yokels Jordan chose as his protagonists. When this book, which will be called "The Litter of Seven" is completed, Jordan will run out of air in the room he writes in. He wil die feebly and alone at the age of 98. Why will he die of suffocation? Because some of the money piles laying around him will fall onto his head, causing a wad of franklins to lodge themselves down his throat. At that point, the series will be picked up by the grandson of Terry Goodkind or someone of equally poor writer's stock. Tor books, by then a subsidiary of Wizards of the Coast, will continue the series again, at the breakneck spped of one book per day in the life of randland. enjoy, for you've been warned.