I hated - HATED - Robert Jordan's
Wheel of Time books when I tried rereading them recently. As a teenager I remember really enjoying the first three books, but a friend and I began swapping fantasy suggestions, and I found myself having to reread the series with him. I genuinely thought I might enjoy them, but I found myself advancing through the seven stages of grief with each successive page, until I permanently settled on stage three - anger. By the seventh book, I was filled with the white hot hatred of a thousand suns for Mr. Jordan and his crap writing. I reached the point where I realized that if I read about one more braid being tugged, one more skirt being smoothed, one more boneheaded decision by characters to move the incredibly bloated plot forward by one more millimeter, or one more overblown and unnecessarily detailed description of something I could not care about for another second longer, I was going to stab my eyeballs out with pencil.
Anyway, I didn't care for
The Wheel of Time.
