Olivier Delaye's Reviews > Lord of Chaos

Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan
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it was ok


Nyneave tugged her braid as hard as she could bear it. Any harder and she would surely rip her scalp off. “How am I supposed to review this book?” she muttered, holding a copy of Robert Jordan’s Lord of Chaos in her left hand. Her right was busy pulling at her braid. “The author’s first three books were really good––well, if one turns a blind eye on the fact that they are LOTR ripoffs, which, don’t get me wrong, is fine by me, just as long as the story is revisited in a captivating way and makes you turn the pages faster than it takes for my right hand to reach up and tug my braid; speaking of which…––but book 4 and 5 were pretty hard to slog through and I’m afraid the same can be said about book 6. The ending is pretty good, though. Quite unexpected, you might say. Ah, men!”

Elayne listened to her friend, the faintest ghost of the beginning of a smile slightly spiced up by the undeniable tinge of mockery embodied in the ever so feeble and elusive yet very much there glint in her left eye which, much like her right eye, was the color of the sea and the sky when it is not yet noon although the eleventh hour of the day is well nigh passed and gone. “My dear sweet good friend Nyneave, what troubles you so, pray tell your dear sweet good friend Elayne?”

Nyneave glared at Elayne, a pearly thread of saliva dangling from the left corner of her mouth whose full lips were the color of the sky when it is not yet dawn although dusk is long passed and gone. She had never been so angry in her life! Well, not since five minutes ago, anyway. “Are you deaf, woman? Woolheaded perhaps?” She gave her braid another tug, this time hard enough to make her scream in pain. It felt good, though. Indeed, it felt quite pleasurable. Like, pleasing. The opposite of unpleasant. Or that of disagreeable. You know, like, good. For the pain reminded her she was alive and had hair to tug at. And so she tugged at it one more time for good measure. “I just said out loud that I didn’t know what to make of book 6 in the Wheel of Time series. I warned you time and again not to listen to your iPod so often, woman. And what did her Highness do? You kept on listening to that woolheaded contraption of a thing and made yourself deaf. Ah, women!”

Elayne chose not to answer to that ill-founded accusation. She put both her bejeweled hands palm up on her lap, smoothing backhandedly the delicate fabric of her dress which was made of a multitude of silk and damask and cotton and acrylic and elastane cloth leaves, each perfectly and masterfully and skillfully sewn together and each having its own particular hue which very often reminded the onlooker––or for that matter the bearer, for dresses were meant to be worn in this part of Randland and not only admired and wrote about for thousands and thousands and thousands of pages––of the color of an autumn sky when summer is definitely passed and gone but winter is not yet there and bides its time dozing patiently at the corner of November and December, and said, “I think you should know by now that the author––the Gods rest his soul––only wrote books 6 through 11 of his series because his editor, who also happened to be his wife, had thrown in the towel well before the Breaking of the World. So he basically wrote whatever he wanted for as many pages as he wanted, not giving a rat’s ass about moving the plot along or shutting it up about what this and that Aes Sedai is wearing in this and that scene. Image how fun it must have been for him! Quite a treat, really. Not so much for us readers, though… So here’s what you should do, sweet beautiful Nyneave: don’t bother reading book 6 through 11––I know I won’t; just Google the plot summaries (ah, ah, ah, the plot! That’s a good one!) and then move on to book 12 The Gathering Storm by Brandon Sanderson. Here, you can even use my iPod. That way you’ll have your hands free to do as much braid pulling as you want while listening to the audiobook. Aren’t I a great friend, sweet beautiful gorgeous Nyneave?”

“Burn you, woman, burn you and your fancy gadgets to the hundred hells below!” In her rage, Nyneave went on tugging at her braid like a demented Quasimodo pulling at the bell rope of Notre-Dame on a wedding day. She tugged hard. Oh boy, did she. Really, really hard. A little too hard perhaps. For in the end she broke her cervical spine, leaving her paralyzed from the neck down.
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Reading Progress

January 28, 2014 – Started Reading
January 28, 2014 – Shelved
January 28, 2014 –
page 100
January 29, 2014 –
page 200
January 30, 2014 – Finished Reading

Comments Showing 1-5 of 5 (5 new)

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message 1: by Echo3180 (new) - added it


Jeff I laughed so hard at this. I'll keep reading though but spot on!

Olivier Delaye Jeff wrote: "I laughed so hard at this. I'll keep reading though but spot on!"

Glad you liked it. I just wrote it during a severe case of the Bobbie-Jordan-really-I-mean-like-what-the-fucks. Watch out! It's super contagious and can (will) get you eventually, if you keep on reading his drivel after, say, book 4 or 5.

Suzanne Fantastic review - and you are right - it just gets worse.

Although you did forget to mention all of the well turned calves :) They may not show up repeatedly til later books though.

Olivier Delaye Suzanne wrote: "Fantastic review - and you are right - it just gets worse.

Although you did forget to mention all of the well turned calves :) They may not show up repeatedly til later books though."

Thank you, Suzanne;-)

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