Chapter 7: Out of the Woods

Believe it or not, in this chapter Rand and Tam make it out of the woods. Well, at least the chapter title isn't lying. You can't trust them anymore these days.

The chapter starts with Rand suddenly realizing that it's gotten lighter. He's still in shock from the attack, and it's all he can do to keep moving forward. It makes sense after everything he's gone through, and I can almost feel bad for him. I say almost, because his character is so ill-defined that his Chosen One™ trademark hasn't worn off yet. Also, I am kind of a jerk and like seeing characters suffer. That's what happens when you get an English degree, I guess.

Chapter 6: The Westwood

When we last left Our Hero, everything changed when the Trolloc nation attacked. I am excited about this. I don't know why it's bothering him so much, because something is actually happening in this book for once. Wasn't he complaining about nothing exciting ever happening there? Or maybe that was Mat. It's sad that the annoying character has had more characterization than the main character, whose defining trait so far is getting startled easily.

Chapter 5: Winternight

Anyone remember this? No? Amazing what a social life can do to your blog. Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd type. Anyway, I'm hoping to get back into the swing of this, so here we go.

When we last left Our Hero, he and Tam were arriving back at their little house. As usual, the narration takes a little timeout for some world-building, this time to tell us about how usually lots of people live together and why that makes two men living alone seem unusual. I wonder if Jordan realized what he was actually writing here. Considering that he likes to put Riders and ravens in unimaginatively ominous positions, I can't imagine he would recognize subtext if it punched him in the face. It's a rather unusual thing to add to what's so far been otherwise standard conservative fantasy, but considering what women are like in Wheelworld, I can't exactly say it's all that surprising.

Chapter 4: The Gleeman

What's the deal with that word, anyway? "Gleeman"? Why not just call it a bard and leave it at that like normal people would do? "Gleeman" brings images of horrific maniacal jesters to mind, worse creatures than Darkfriends could ever hope to be. The old man who just burst out of the inn is far from those images, which is comforting but not quite fitting. I can't relate this guy to standing on his head and singing like a loon.

The door slams behind him and the first thing he does is swivel around to glare at it, and that's just so goofy that I wonder if maybe calling him a gleeman might be suitable after all. It's kind of sad, really. This is probably going to be our wise old mentor, and here he is leering at innocent doors. At least he's not condescending like Nynaeve.

Chapter 3: The Peddler

Picking up where we left off, we continue to see just how big the wagon is by its wheels, which are taller than a man each. Come on, eight horses is hard enough to swallow. How do you even move a wagon that size without it falling apart? Is this like the land version of Noah's Ark, or a fantasy version of a moving truck? It's ridiculous.

The driver of this truck wagon is named Padan Fain, a cheerful fellow who comes into Emond's Field every spring. He doesn't just bring wares to sell, he also helpfully provides information about the outside world. I'm not sure why this is such a big deal ... don't these country guys pride themselves on being separated from everybody else? Why would they be so interested in things that don't concern them in the slightest? Maybe life in Emond's Field is just that boring.

Chapter 2: Strangers

I probably shouldn't be going over every little sentence that isn't geography or history. What kind of blogger is completely and utterly mad? I know that some would say "the best kind," but since I want these posts to be at least readable I'll try and do some more summing up.

Rand and Mat lug the cider barrels into the inn, where most of the Village Council is lounging around. Haral Luhhan the blacksmith gives Mat a nasty look because he suspects that Mat pulled another childish prank involving smothering his dogs in flour and setting them loose (which he did). Mat gets distracted by Bran's wife, who's carrying honeycakes, and Rand has to get him to focus again. There, I just summarized three pages in three sentences. The subtle not-quite-tension is a bit lost in translation, but it's understood just fine, right? But the siren song of nitpicking is already calling me back ...

Chapter 1: An Empty Road

How does it take so long to make a blog post about a single chapter? It was only fifteen pages!

We begin with the book pointing out that it's beginning, or at least that it's a beginning, which is an important distinction to begin with. Even though the book had a prologue already, I guess it's technically true with this being the first chapter. The impact there is still lost though, and it comes off sounding rather pretentious. What's worse is that it's about wind, which reminds me of this:

Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world (Eragon p1).

 That said, the instance in Wheel of Time gets a pass because of the Grandfather Clause (or maybe just the Father Clause, since it was only published in 1990), and because it isn't shamelessly ripping off plotlines from superior stories. Or so it seems ...