I am not what you would call a reader, or at least not what I would call a reader. So much so, that there is an entire section of my blog that was dedicated to encouraging myself to read. For a while I was writing reviews for the books I had assigned myself to read.
Alas, much like the rest of my efforts here recently, that lapsed. In fact for much of last year I hardly read anything (excluding the internet). Then whilst playing Iron Banner last fall (a monthly PvP event in the video game Destiny), someone on one of the other teams had a name related to some book I had never heard of, but apparently half my fire team had. They talked briefly about what great books they were & then we moved on.
Fast forward to my vacation to Europe last thanksgiving & I thought it would be good to have a book to read. I remembered the name of the book, I think I had made a note of it. So I bought Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. Actually I bought the whole trilogy, because why half do something right?
Other than a little Elmore Leonard, I have not read a great deal of fiction in my adult life, most of my getting into reading efforts centered around spiritual things or at least self help deals. I really didn’t know what to expect or if I would stick with it, but I thought it was worth a try. The last time I got into a fiction series was when my wife, before we were even engaged mentioned the Anne Rice vampire series. I started to read them just to have something to talk to her about & relate with. I remember enjoying them, but I also remember them dragging on at times.
So as I started Mistborn, I had no expectations, I had never read a fantasy type book and wasn’t sure what to expect or if I would even finish it.
I am not going to go through the plot of the books, the twists & turns, how the author manages to hook you in, only to break your heart & then somehow make it all alright, or even better than it was moments before. Or how he develops characters that despite being in a fantasy universe are still very believable, likable & relatable, as flawed as they are heroic.
What I will tell you is that not only did I finish the first book, I read the entire trilogy & then I read the 2nd trilogy. I love these books, in a way that I never expected to, in a way I cannot really explain; it’s like when you find that one guitarist that just stirs your soul with every solo, or that singer that breaks your heart with every note, the one that just fits you perfectly. I absolutely love the universe Sanderson has created, the magic system, the personalities, the whole thing, I totally love it.
Now I am in a very new & quite frankly rather annoying position, a position that actual readers I am sure can relate to. I have finished the books, all 6 of them. I know he is working on some more & apparently there is an e-book prequel that I need to hunt down, but I am finished, there are no more. This annoys me, because I truly love these books. My wife suggested I find some other books in the same genre to read, which while a valid suggestion, is simply not what I want. I want this universe, I want Vin & Elend, Wax & Wayne, I want allomancy & feruchemy (although maybe not hemalurgy, because that’s just gross). I want more dang it and there isn’t any, at least not yet.
So instead I am writing on my blog, because for the first time in my life I get to complain that I have caught up with a book series.