So, wow. By all appearances, there really is only one book left in The Wheel of Time. I mean, now that I have finished Towers of Midnight, as obviously there were still two more when this week began. And as you’d imagine in a series with a serious dent into its fifth figure worth of pages, the penultimate book was a roller coaster ride with only a handful of spots to slow down and catch your breath before the next dizzying ascent or fatal plunge. If this were the kind of review site where I dove headfirst into Spoiler Bay and splashed around all day, it would be quite the long review, as there are plot revelations and gut-wrenching aplenty; but since it isn’t, I find myself in the odd position of having not a ton to say. It’s an extremely good book, one of the best I’ve read in the series. Sanderson’s inability in some places to match Jordan’s voice in the previous book has been smoothed out, undoubtedly assisted by my having read no actual Jordan in the past few years. Plus, you know, it’s nearly the end. At sixteen years, I haven’t been doing this as long as some, but it’s still just about half my life, and that has its own kind of impact.

I guess my point is, if you used to like this kind of thing, I can guarantee you that you still do, even if you maybe didn’t for a little while there in the late middle. And if you never liked this kind of thing, I doubt you’d start now, not even counting the multiple books of missing backstory.