Gianluca Fiore > Recent Status Updates

And so the great reread begins.

I cannot decide if I like it or not.

Yet.

It is masterfully written, with enough small technical changes to make me willing to keep reading. But it is hard to answer if I like this indian One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Yet.

Yet another fantasy book that fails at battles. Sigh. Tactically incoherent.

If the previous' book main issue was a lack of plot, this one is the plot being uninteresting and similar to hundreds of other fantasy books.

I was expecting a GoT/Lotr and so far all I read is a dark Belgariad.

Is it good? Well, yes.
Is it very good? No.
Is it original and deserving of the praise? Heck no.

Chapter 2, first two phrases, 4 times the word 'cold' used. Irksome.

On a reread of this after a couple of decades. If I am not wrong, it will be the sixth read.

Never would have thought of reading nearly a chapter about a single goal. And if you know Maradona, you know what goal is the protagonist of the chapter. Sublime.

Finally the story becomes more linear, and even more violent. About a quarter of the book is confusing and downright boring, then it imoroves. I am not bothered by the violence, to be you should care about the characters and McCarthy does nothing to make you do so. A bunch of random men kills unnamed men does not make a compelling plot.

Anyway, not much to name this a masterpiece. Only McCarthy's ego, maybe.

I am kind of losing interest. I will try to finish this book and if nothing excites me or catches my attention, I will drop the series.

I should have read this when a kid.

"To live was to grind possibility into an endless thread of actualities, to slough moments like a serpent shedding an infinite, anguished skin"

I continue being amazed at how Bakker sews beautiful words between the most horrifying story I ever read.

It is a super slow book though. Lots of it could have been edited away. And lots of beauty with it.

Kellhus is the damnedest deus ex machina of fantasy literature. And the one I hate the most.

This third book clearly moves into more philosophical, vague, oniric, territory compared to the previous two. Not like a bad thing per se, but it seems like a book written a few years after its predecessor.

Slower than The Judging Eye. Occasionally a chapter feels drawn way longer than it should. I didn't remember it as it is turning out to be: an interlocutory book in the second series

Rereading this in the original Spanish.

Time is due for a re-read of these last 4 books.