Go back with me if you will… to that moment you read the final words on the final page of the final book.
"The End of the Last Book of The Wheel of Time"
The joy of finishing and the pain of finishing is overwhelming. Days, neh, months later my heart still suffered readers lament. There was no more braid tugging, no more dicing, no more discovering new weaves. Desperately searching for new adventures to fill that void - that Wheel of Time sized void - you read every book series on your list.
. . . goodbye Randland.
Hello Erilea! . . . goodbye Erilea.
Hello Narnia! . . . goodbye Narnia.
Hello Elendel and the Roughs! . . . goodbye Elendel and the Roughs.
Hello Roshar! Ohhh heyyyyy Roshar!
Oh, but I’m a scholar. I enjoy things with curious properties, and stupidity is most interesting. The more you study it, the further it flees—and yet the more of it you obtain, the less you understand about it!
(I mean, can I start a blog dedicated to only Wit and Jasnah?!)
. . . but, eventually, goodbye Roshar.
Hello Wrinkle! . . . goodbye Wrinkle.
Hello Hogwarts! . . . goodbye Hogwarts.
The residue of Randland remains even after experiencing all of these wonderful worlds and knowing the characters that built them. Time to listen to the audiobooks and prepare for JordanCon.
I felt such a strong attachment to the Wheel of Time that I haven’t been able to pick up any new fantasy or sci-fi since I’ve finished it. I’ve re-read the entire series at least ten times, not including starting from the beginning every time a new book came out. I’ve been surviving on non-fiction for three years.
I really need to figure out how to move on.