I’m too old for fantasy, I guess. All those names of people and places I cannot possibly spell, like “Nine-eve” or “Emmon’s Field“.
It feels like Jordan was paid by word. Can’t count the number of times he repeats the word “gleeman”. And all those passages about a song called Drunken Peddler was called Tinker in the Kitchen in this village. Why should I care?
It’s interesting that the author split Gandalf in two: there’s Moraine, who has the magic, and then there’s Tom the Gleeman, that had the talk.
The best part of the book is actually the fables. Legend about Emmon’s Field or about the wolves, or about this “King Arthur” that hated witches is far more engaging than anything else.
Matt quickly turns into a Gollum. Just with an encrusted dagger instead of a ring.
For fantasy, there’s a certain lack of imagination. They all drink tea, and smoke tobacco. Literally tobacco. And traveling people are just gypsies. And Children of the Light are just Inquisition.