Customer Reviews

Lord Foul's Bane (The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever, Book 1)

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3 1/2 stars

Having reread Lord of the Rings in anticipation of the films last year, I recently also paid a visit to another fantasy series that I enjoyed while in middle school: Thomas Covenant. Nearly 20 years later, I appreciate the books more. The themes are very adult and while I enjoyed the books as a child because Donaldson creates a great fantasy-world that will interest and draw in readers of all ages, I am better able to understand what Donaldson was trying to accomplish now that I'm older.
In some ways, I think this particular book is more enjoyable when you're younger. Donaldson was just getting a grip on his writing style with the first book, and I find it to be noticeably less of a quality read than some of the later installments. Donaldson doesn't quite have his "flow" yet, and he does not quite develop Thomas Covenant enough to paint him as anything more than an annoying crank. You see what he is *trying* to do, but the overall effort falls kind of short.
Furthermore, there are simply too many similarities between this book and Lord of the Rings for comfort. In both series, we have a quest story of a reluctant hero who is the bearer of a powerful ring (even the talisman is the same!) that neither can use, which is coveted by a "dark lord," who lives in the East (the bad guys always live in the East; an allusion to Cold-War era politics?) and for whom physical form is an uneccesary addendum to their existence. And in both books, if the bad guys ever get the powerful rings, it will mean the end of the world. The minions of the bad guys in both Middle Earth and The Land are genetically created life forms (Orcs and Ur-Viles/Cavewights), and the Thomas Covenant series even goes so far as to re-create the Gollum character in the Cavewight Drool Rockworm. Drool even talks in broken English like Gollum, and is described as looking very much like him as well. Like Gollum, a power that was not meant for him has twisted him physically, and, like Gollum, he has selfish, child-like qualities (though he is two-dimensional; whereas the conflicted Gollum was pitiable, Drool is simply evil). There are even living forests in both books, although the specific characteristics of them are somewhat different.

Of course, there are lots of differences, too: Frodo is heroic enough that his infrequent bouts of weakness are forgivable; Covenant is annoying, self-pitying and pathetic enough that his infrequent bouts of positive, decisive action come off as teases and aberrations. Also, there are metaphysical components to Lord Foul that do not exist with Sauron, and the Ravers are much more interesting "lieutenants" than Tolkien's Ring-wraiths are (although they don't play a large role in this first volume). What ultimately makes this book worth a recommendation (besides the fact that you need to read it before getting onto the more superior later books) is the twist Donaldson puts on the series insofar as to the reality of The Land. Is it a dream? Is Covenant simply living out a Freudian wish-fulfilment, or is he actually a chosen weapon by the Creator of the Universe to keep His archenemy at bay? These issues are always playing in the mind of the reader, and they push this occasionally otherwise-derivative book into a worthy standing.

"Lord Foul's Bane" has many strengths to recommend it. It also has a number of shortcomings I would be remiss in not mentioning. I personally loved the series, moreso the second time around.

Donaldson's hero, Thomas Covenant, is a leper and an outcast in his own world. He has resigned himself to his life of disease (there was no cure for leprosy when this was written) and solitiude, and desires nothing more than to be left alone to live out his sentence. After an accident in town, he finds himself transported to a fantastical place known only as the Land where his disease is cured, and the most evil being in the Land challenges Covenant to stop him from destroying the world. Much of this first book in the series is spent on making Covenant as contemptible as possible, making him cowardly, a rapist, selfish, and inconsiderate, but most of all disbelieving in the world he has found himself in. Although Covenant just wants the nightmare to be over, he finds that people see him as a reincarnation of a long-dead hero, and put their faith in him. But in his contemptiblity, Covenant is pitiable. It's hard not to feel bad for him at times when people blame him for things that aren't his fault, or refuse to understand his remorse at things that are.

The weaknesses of the story lie in Donaldson's reliance on his Thesaurus and the fact that a contemptible character scares a lot of readers off. As to the language, he does at times go into a pointless string of synonyms, using words that no normal person uses in conversation. I think of this as a weakness in the novel, but not one that affects my overall view of it. More of a quirk of the author.

I've thought about the question of whether or not Covenant was actually taken to a fantasy Land or just imagined it in his diseased brain. Most readers I've spoken with believe that we, the readers, are to accept that the Land exists independently of Covenant and that he is simply taken there because he is their legendary hero. I feel, however, that there is no evidence to back this up, and there is a great deal of evidence to support the idea that the Land is all in his head, and all the people and parts of it are metaphorical representations of aspects of Covenant's mind.

Either way, the story is a great epic fantasy series, and I encourage people to put personal judgement of the character aside (he's SUPPOSED to be despicible!) and enjoy the series for its own merit.

After the first 50 pages of this book I felt that it was living up to or even surpassing its reputation, and I was completely enthralled. But as the story veered from the modern world into "the Land", there followed perhaps the greatest train wreck I've experienced in any novel I've ever read.

The first warning was the naming and language. Unlike Tolkien, Donaldson's attempts to create names are laughable--quite literally. I can't imagine how someone could read sentences like "Berek Heartthew's son was Damelon Giantfriend, and his son was Loric Vilesilencer, who stemmed the corruption of the Demondim, rendering them impotent" with a straight face. And here you also see more of Donaldson's weaknesses: the overuse of fantasy Capitals and the wretched abuse of compoundwords. In this book, when someone speaks of weighty Matters, you shall have the Knowing of it, for its Importance will be telegraphed to you with Capitals. We're always in the Hills, never the hills; people rarely craft but that they Craft; after all, it's all Stone and Sea to them. Does the mere Fact of this capitalization convey Depth to you? And do you accept it as a substitute for depth conveyed through, say, the power of the writing itself? If not, search well for another Book, for Off you this one shall surely Cheese.

And oh, those compoundwords. Are you a friend to Giants? No no, you're a "Giantfriend". Did you silence Lord Vile? Then "Vilesilencer" you shall be. An ocean lover, perhaps? Then as "Saltheart Foamfollower" shall ye ever be known! Are those berries to treasure? No, they're "treasure-berries". A "vital brew"? Let's call it "diamonddraught". Looking for stones? Nay, you're "stone-questing." Dirt that heals wounds? That's why we call it "hurtloam"! "Rockbrother", "proud-wife", "Earthfriend"--it's relentless. When you take an eyerest from longreading you'll think, hey, maybe I should have some tastyfood so I'll feel tummyjoy. And to be crystal clear, it's not just the fact of the compounds themselves, but the hackneyed mundanity of them; Donaldson unerringly settles on the most obvious and uninspired combinations, apparently convinced that they resound with exotic mystery, when in fact they're almost universally uncreative eye-rollers.

These may seem like nits, but they're a constant annoyance, and in any case there's far worse. The story of dragging Thomas Covenant over the Land does just that--drags, and drags, and drags. The universally one-dimensional characters (including TC himself) sojourn across the one-dimensional Land, page after page after page, with little to make the journey worthwhile. The exposition is lengthy and yet still shallow, and increasingly mind-numbing as it plods along. What tension there is comes mainly from TC's continual tantrums and peevishness. If this doesn't exactly sound like compelling reading, you're right, it's not.

Also, to say this book is "derivative" of Tolkien is a serious understatement; it frequently feels like out and out plagiarism. A ring of power, Nazgul substitutes called "ur-viles", large creatures who take days to tell a story and feel our protagonist is too "hasty", a perilous journey to a council of the wise, Mount Doom vs. Mount Thunder--it goes on and on. The borrowing is frequent and overt. This isn't just surface similarity based on the fact that both are epic fantasy, but the wholesale lifting of major elements. Donaldson does embroider the story with some of his own additions, but I found them stereotypical and uninspired.

Even the most derivative work might still be worth reading if it's done well, of course, but Donaldson is far less concerned with telling a good story than he is about rubbing our noses in his protagonist's vileness, starting with the signal event of the book: his rape of a child. I hold authors responsible for their choices, and Donaldson never comes close to justifying his decision to ornament this turgid, plagiarized fantasy with the rape of an innocent young girl. Worst of all, later in the book he attributes this self-righteous thought to his rapist: "[Lord] Foul! The Wraiths were helpless! What do you do for an encore, rape children?" When I hit that sentence it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing the book to the ground and stomping on it. Was this dark irony, or foreshadowing, or perhaps just unintentional self-mockery? I couldn't care less. It was a repellent inclusion, given the author's cavalier willingness to commit sexual violence against one of his own characters.

Despite the length of this review, I've only touched on the major faults of the book (and I've omitted others entirely). If there's a prize lurking at the bottom of the remaining 1000 pages of this cereal box I won't be finding it; there are far too many better books in the world, and life's too short. If you must read it, do yourself a favor and get it from the library rather than paying for it, so you'll have wasted only time and not money.

It has always distressed me that the Thomas Covenant Series has landed in the "Fantasy Genre." I am of the opinion that Donaldson's masterwork would stand on its own in any arena. In "The Land" and Thomas Covenant, Donaldson has created a poetic, philosophical, and literary statement that transcends the particularity of its settings. If the Thomas Covenant Trilogy is fantasy, then so are Voltaire's Candide and Swift's Gulliver's Travels.

A great deal of attention is paid to three aspects of this trilogy. First: its comparisons with Tolkein's Lord of the Rings. Second, Thomas Covenant as anti-hero, and third, the darkness or mood of the work.

With regard to comparison with Tolkein, it is certainly understandable, since both works deal with fantastic subjects and both are thoroughly original. Tolkein repackages mythology into his own definition of elves, dwarves, goblins and the like - creating a "standard interpretation" of these mythologies that stands apart from the cultural context of the modern interpretations (witness the nobility of his Elves as opposed to the lighthearted Smurf-creatures of the American interpretation). Donaldson, on the other hand, peoples his work with uniquely defined creatures, from the Giants to the Ur-Viles, that have no contemporary counterparts in popular mythology, at least in nomenclature. Tolkein, of course, has been imitated, having used common mythology as a basis. Donaldson's world is too unique to be thus reduced, and so he gets no genre of his own.

In a similar sense, both authors constructed complex and detailed worlds whose full history extends beyond the bounds of their primary works. For Tolkein, it took the prequel (poshumous) Silmarillion to flesh out his world. For Donaldson, it takes the slightly diminishing Second Trilogy.

There are significant differences, of course. Tolkein despised metaphor. You could argue that Donaldson is all metaphor. But I digress.

The second set of commentary on Donaldson is related to Thomas Covenant as anti-hero. It is a nice "gimmick" if you choose to look at it that way, and certainly results in some repulsion. However, it is fundamentally intrinsic to the themes of the trilogy. Covenant cannot be the messianic figure that is required of him in the "fantasy" sequences, without complete invalidation of the tensions between despair and hope which drive the novels. With Covenant in any other mold, the works become nothing more than a very detailed and original fantasy work - just what they are often perceived to be.

Finally, the darkness or mood of the work is inevitable as well. It is tempting to see the "Beggar's note" as a definition of the themes of the trilogy, and this may be what Donaldson intended. I believe that the most striking theme contained in the trilogy is that aforementioned tension between despair and hope. It is not a question of ethics, right and wrong, but a very question of existence that Covenant grapples with. The leprosy issue (which would of course darken the trilogy) places Covenant in an artificial environment of isolation and unreality. Even prior to the fantasy sequences, he is living in something of a second tier of existence. The fantasy sequences exacerbate his isolation, but do not create it.

What surprises me most is the lack of commentary or interest in the poetry, philosophy, and literary merits of the work.

Despite their bleak aspect, Donaldson's poetic asides bring depth to the work. Lines such as "these are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives" are surprising in any modern novel. "Golden Boy" is another such treasure. Throughout the novels, Donaldson inserts beautiful phrases, poems, and lyrics that can be successful because he has deconstructed a critical context and justified the language by the very fantastic environment he is portraying.

In terms of the philosophy, Donaldson's treatment of paradox is particularly interesting. Some existentialists have argued that Descartes fails to prove existence because it is impossible for man to leave his own sensory context (if you can find it, "what is it like to be a bat" is a very interesting example of this). In brief, because we cannot imaging sensory input any different than what we already receive, we cannot use that sensory input to justify its reality. The fantasy sequences in the Covenant trilogy are examples of the imagined twisting of senses that provide the protagonist with this very "impossible" sensory input - colors with timbre, sounds with hue, etc. For Covenant to function in such an environment, particularly one so thoroughly in conflict with his own self-definition as a leper, is to create an unsustainable pressure that drives his catharsis.

Finally, the literary merits of the work seem obvious to me. It is rare to find an author with such dexterity in the english language. Donaldson's vocabulary is immense, and his use of it is natural. His diction becomes as inherent to the trilogy as any other aspect. His use of the anti-hero in something other than a 1960's nihlist novel is commendable, and the very structure of the trilogy is methodical and contributes substantially to the themes. The subjects are mutli-layered, and aside from the three or four tiers of reality portrayed in the trilogy, there is additional depth in each character that reveals a keen psychological grasp. Donaldson may additionally be advantaged by his real-world exposure to medicine and leprosy in particular, but his use and description of its characteristics and effects accomplishes exactly the tone that is required for the success of his ultimate conclusions.

And ultimately, Donaldson makes a point. I won't reveal the key "revelation" of the work, particularly since it is more fully explored in the Second Trilogy, but I will hint that Lord Morham lets it slip (and you've just gotta love it when Morham starts kicking butt... but I'll let you enjoy that yourself).

In summary, Donaldson addresses existence, illusion, morality, paradox, hope, despair, self-realization, crime, expiation, rape, incest, war, and the meaning of life. For me, he has much more in common with Faulkner than with Tolkien. Don't let the genre fool you. This is a profound set of novels. If you can get past the mood, and the dark subject matter, you will find plenty of sustaining action, a world with incredible depth and beauty, and ultimately a validation of the very things that the mood of the books seem to threaten.

That The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever (comprised of Lord Foul's Bane, The Illearth War and The Power That Preserves) has been both highly praised as well as heavily disparaged is not surprising and is a credit to its author, Stephen R. Donaldson. When this series was first released back in the early 1980's, it pushed the limits of contemporary fantasy, yet even today it doesn't come across as dated. In Thomas Covenant, Donaldson has created a protagonist who has, through leprosy, lost everything he ever held dear - including his wife and child. His disease forces him to live the life of a pariah, an outcast. Physically and emotionally he becomes numb and eventually comes to loathe himself. Then one night he is run down by a car, and when he regains consciousness he finds himself transported into a fantasy world whose inhabitants view him as their savior, come to depose the tyrannical Lord Foul, whose own ambition is to destroy the Land. The locals view the white gold wedding ring Covenant wears to be a talisman of great power against Foul's might. Covenant believes that none of this is real and eschews the burden the local inhabitants heap upon him, and so he comes to be known as The Unbeliever. Slowly the Land cures Covenant of his affliction, and those parts of him that had been numb in his own reality come to life - including his sexuality. Again, believing this to be only a dream and that in reality he lays dying on the shoulder of some road, Covenant rapes a young girl, which may dismay many readers. Still, to Covenant, unable to control his newly awakened virility, this is merely a dream, akin perhaps to a wet dream. But it is an act that will torment Covenant throughout the series.

Readers may question how a rapist can be made into a hero. The answer is simple: Thomas Covenant is in no way a hero. He is an unwilling participant in this fantasy. A sometimes vile and mostly unsympathetic character, Donaldson deftly contrasts Covenant with the people of the Land. Covenant is the underdog, yet each time he does something despicable he manages, through some small act, to redeem himself, and the reader can't help but root for him. Ultimately it is Covenant's guilt - guilt over the rape he committed as well as the guilt he feels over the countless acts of sacrifice the people of the Land make and their willingness to forgive him for all of his transgressions - that drives him to take action against Lord Foul.

Covenant is the lone point of view character throughout the series. Donaldson intended this to lend an air of fantasy to the series - that Covenant is the only real being in an unreal setting - and so the supporting characters come off as one-dimensional. Still, it is an effective technique: it is, after all, Covenant's story.

The narrative is complex and some readers may be put off by some of the grammar. Still, it is an adult fantasy and comparisons to Lord of the Rings are unfounded. It stands alone and, rightfully, has become the standard against which all other fantasy novels are measured.

There seems to be an increasing tendency on here to bash these fine fantasy books-hmmm...
All I can say is that this is a brilliant, complex, wonderfully realized fantasy saga for ADULTS- no Tolkien rip-offs here- even the use of a magic gold ring is completely different to LOTR. Yes, the main character is horrible at first, but you have to remember he is a leper who has been outcast, has lost everything and thinks this fantasy world is all a dream anyway- plus he gets better as the series continues..
These books contain some profoundly deep and skillful prose, far more sophisticated than the usual cookie cutter, generic sword and sorcery garbage that clogs the bookshops these days. There is an epic sweep and majesty to this series which is unforgettable, plus a fantasy concept which is startlingly original. Here you will find beautiful settings, fantastical creatures, high adventure and deep emotional engagement- true, they can be a challenge, which is why some kiddies can't get into them, but for those who want to get their teeth into some meaty, weighty, profound fantasy literature, Covenant is the stuff. Five stars.

I was introduced to His Verbosity, Stephen R. Donaldson, in my mid teens. At the time I thought Donaldson was very Wise and Deep, and that his book was practically dripping with insights on the human condition. Now that so much time has passed me by, I decided I would read it again to see how well it would hold up. Read on; the whole dreary experiment is detailed below.

This book is about a successful writer, Thomas Covenant, who is stricken with the ancient horror of leprosy. The disease strips him of everything worth having, leaving him mentally, spiritually and physically maimed. After a severe traffic accident he is transported to a magical place known only as the Land, a Reality so essentially wholesome that his leprosy is cured simply by being there. But it is also a place whose peace is threatened by Lord Foul, ancient foe of Good and practitioner of Wickedness. This evil entity lays upon Thomas Covenant the charge of carrying a Message of Doom to the Lords of Revelstone, a Doom in which Covenant finds himself included thanks to the unguessable might of his white gold wedding ring! Can Thomas Covenant reach the Lords in time to stop this nightmarish vision from becoming reality!?

Man, it SOUNDS pretty good, don't you think? How could it all have gone so terribly, terribly wrong? First of all, Thomas Covenant is the most unrelentingly unpleasant person to ever appear in the fiction of a civilized people. I get that he's an anti-hero, but famous anti-heroes like Billy the Kid and Jesse James had personality, some trait or Independent Streak that people can admire on some level. Covenant has no redeeming qualities of any description. He rapes the first person to offer him aid. He never talks; ol' Tommy can only communicate by grating, snarling, glowering, and occasionally, when he's feeling lazy, by shouting. Covenant pities the fool who tries to connect in a physical way, too! "Don't touch me!!" he screams again and again, flinging acid in the faces of his staunchest allies. He keepeth Ingratitude and Surliness closer than a brother, and surely he shall dwell amongst the Jackasses forever, saith the critic.

Was Donaldson being paid by the syllable? At a guess, I'd say I must have read at least five or six hundred books over the course of my life, but I ran across quite a few obscure words here. I'm talking about words I have never read or heard used in ANY place OTHER THAN this book. It reads as though a Thesarus publisher was paying the author to test drive a gratis copy of their product, and Donaldson bought a ski lodge in Aspen outright with the proceeds. I do not object to being challenged by what I read, but here it's so overbearing as to reduce itself to an irritating parody.

With added perspective I realize the characters are about as engaging as an episode of Full House. One dimensional set pieces, carted to and fro and forced to utter the absurdest dialogue, they are never allowed to have an ambiguous thought or feeling of their own. This is the same reason I no longer enjoy 'Star Wars' in the same way I did as a child, the moral extremes no longer seem plausible. And so what you are left with are not characters but plot devices, wind-up soldiers who serve only to make the authors' point for him. Life is very short, and there are much, much better books out there to enjoy.

In his Thomas Covenant series, Steven R. Donaldson portrays a world more violent than any other fantasy writer I have read has ever dreamed. The violence though is never glorified but rather used as a metaphor. It represents Covenant's struggle to survive even as he is being ravaged by forces beyond his control who might very well snuff his life out at any moment. While in parts, he does come off as whiny, it is more whining to himself than to anyone else--so less galling--and also makes him more realistic and three-dimensional. Would anyone afflicted with such a pernicious diease honestly consider himself the savior of a land especially when does not know if the land's existence is fact or fantasy? Covenant's rape of Lena is in response to sudden reawakening of long-dead nerves whose inability to feel has eliminated his ability for sexual release. It is gruesome to contemplate such an act, and no one endorses it, but it is to be expected. Think of the Land and its denizens as Covenant's body and Lord Foul as leprosy and you will see the parallels that make the book interesting. Donaldson's world is better developed than the fantasy worlds of Tolkien, David Eddings, or even George Lucas because there is some stigma attached to the conflict...All of the heroes will not be going home after the battle's done, and the villains definitely won't be annihilated with little or no harm coming to the victors. Covenant is also forced to make decisions no other hero is forced to make. While he never wrestles with light and darkness in the fashion of being tempted to join Foul, he must choose to accept and restrain himself from two conflicting rationales if he has any glimmer of hope of proving victorious and wiping the leprosy (Foul) from his body (the Land): He can not choose to completely accept the Land or he will lose his power over the white gold which alone is more powerful than Foul while simultaneously he must not completely reject it or the Land will be annihilated just the same. The incredible complexity of the story is almost ineffable. There are no assurances--of anything. Even Covenant's survival is constantly threatened. There is also no sense that the heroes' efforts will always be fruitful. This is more realistic by far than Lucas, Eddings, or Tolkien, where the heroes always hit on a good plan and keep things from getting to their worst point of chaos. There is no protection for the heroes, most of whom drop like flies or suffer terribly in their war against the disease spreading virulently through the body they are sworn to protect. Things keep getting worse. There are no last-minute saves by rogue pirates who forgot their self-centeredness or forgotten gods who turn out to be almighty. If the hero survives, he does so alone. No sudden, unexpected deus ex machina will arrive to make it easy to decimate the villains completely. Donaldson's element of unpredictability lends a more realistic credence to the story than occurs in most fantasy literature today. An earlier review called him a Tolkine wannabe. That's like saying Stephen King is a Lovecraft wannabe...The similarities between the works are superficial at best. As a closing sidenote too, Covenant and the Land's denizens are more three-dimensional and believable than the two-dimensional, cliched cardboard cutouts of George Lucas' ongoing Star Wars series. (I am a fan of Star Wars, Middle Earth, and Eddings' universes though I think they all lack the sheer enchantment of Donaldson's gothic vision.)

This series of books is remarkable. The characterisation of Thomas Covenant is detailed, tortured, and realistic. For anyone who has struggled in life with situations that are arduous , demeaning, and seemingly hopeless, Covenant's cynical thoughts ring true.

The world he finds himself in is a literary wonder. The prose with which Donaldson describes The Land is evocative. I first read this series when I was 13, and I still feel a sense of awe and longing every time I re-read them. The Giants of Seareach, the unending deathless service of the Haruchai, the vast impenetrable majesty of Revelstone, and the symbiotic relationship of the people to The Land inspire joy, melancholia, awe, wonder and longing. The emotions wrought by Donaldson's words are each vivid and distinct, yet varied and surprising.

What set this series apart from others was more than an unusual anti-hero protagonist or a richly described, memorable setting, or even the the well written characters like Saltheart Foamfollower. What makes them unforgettable is that if you read these books, you will be forced to think, or put the book down. The lines of thought are deep, and seemingly limitless. What is morality? What makes a hero? What would I do in a world that despises me? Would I accept things that could kill me? What is reality? Is reality dictated by what we perceive, or what we believe? Can your loyalty be to something that may have no meaning more than a fevered dream? What is courage? What is cowardly? Is pacifism the only way to respect life, or does the good of the many out weigh the needs of the few, to the extent of violence? Other books have asked similar questions, but only Donaldson allows the reader to draw his or her own conclusions.

In the end, this series is a classic on the order of Tolkien, Dostoyevsky, or JD Salinger. If you pay attention and savor the characters, images, emotions, and questions these books provide, they will remain with you for years to come. For the critics of this book, read through the other reviews. Notice how many readers have been profoundly affected by this series, and have read it over and over again, as I have? Perhaps you missed something important.

A warning at the beginning: if you like your heroes warmhearted, sympathetic-- the kind you can "relate" to-- then this is not your book. Thomas Covenant is more often than not grouchy, blind to the beauty of the world around him, ungrateful, and acts in ways that take the reader aback.

This is not to say that this is not a very good book; it is one that defies your expectations and gives you an antihero (and not a traditional comic one) instead of a hero. If you can't adjust to that, you probably won't like the book.

Moving on from the main character, you have a real assortment in the supporting cast. Some of the people of the Land are a bit difficult to distinguish in that they all seem to be rather stoic (the Stonedowners and the Ramen come to mind) and to speak in "lore-ese" a good deal. Foamfollower the giant is a quite a relief from all of this steady stoicism; he, among all the supporting cast, stands out the most. At the risk of making a bad pun, his character is larger than life. In reading this book, you have to watch for the subtle distinctions between groups of people, the subtle distinctions in lore (the hierarchy among the horsemen on the plains of Ra is an excellent example of this). Close reading will take you far in appreciating Donaldson's work; a quick read will leave you feeling that the storytelling is cookie-cutter and dull.

Finally, this is an epic-- but it is not the Lord of the Rings! Do not expect action that moves at the same pace. Yes, there will be some battles along the way, and there will be a climactic battle, but the action does not move as quickly as a person who has perhaps watched the movies would expect an epic fantasy to move. Donaldson is creating the Land for us; there is a map at the beginning of the book, and you can expect to understand most of it by the end of Lord Foul's Bane. This first book carefully explains the history and current state of an alternative world.

In the end, the important thing is to know what you are reading and not to go into this book with false expectations about the fantasy genre, expectations that will go unfulfilled. Also, if you're looking for that sympathetic hero who's going to be fighting his way through savage armies from page 1 until the end, this isn't your book. Be informed, and then, hopefully, you'll decide that this IS worth reading!