At a bookstore I found The Lady Penitent trilogy, which is apparently an extension of The War of the Spider Queen books. Those books were the last ones I read, at least over a year ago. I've bought other books, such as Elminster in Hell, since I enjoyed some other Elminster books. Though I found myself unable to read them, figuring I was too spoiled by the internets instant entertainment to sit and read a book.
The first book of the trilogy, Sacrifice of the Widow, was not like that at all. I immediately was heavily immersed in it, and ended up devouring it in two days. I have the two other books to get to, and am greatly looking forward to it.
Have any other EC'ers read any good books lately?
-First Law Trilogy
-Steel Remains
-Lies of Locke Lamora
All good stuff.
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Mr. Parcelan wrote this then went back to looking for porn:
Or you could read a book with an original premise like an adult!-First Law Trilogy
-Steel Remains
-Lies of Locke LamoraAll good stuff.
Tell me what they are about and why they are supposed to be good. If it is fantasy, I am not interested.
Under capitalism, man exploits man. Under communism, it's just the opposite. - John Kenneth Galbraith
I've been reading through Sandy Mitchell's Ciaphas Cain: Hero of the Imperium omnibus lately. It's an excellent story but Mitchell's writing style gives me headaches. He's got this weirdly antagonistic relationship with words like "that" and his foreshadowing has all the subtlety of a sledgehammer (e.g. Cain constantly saying things like "but if I only knew what would come next"). The tongue-in-cheek approach to Cain's personality and the many "annotations" ostensibly inserted by one of the Inquisitors involved in the story are hilarious.
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts aquire speed, the teeth acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
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ACES! Another post by Tarquinn:
Tell me what they are about and why they are supposed to be good. If it is fantasy, I am not interested.
they are all fantasy, yes, so i may be wasting my breath but other people might like it
-First Law: Dark, Humorous, Gritty
-Steel Remains: Dark, Gritty, Homosexual
-Lies of Locke Lamora: A very genuine, very cool blend of wittiness, swashbuckling and magic. Excellent for anyone who likes a book that involves clever dialogue and plots and characters, fantasy or no.
If non-fantasy is more your thang, have you checked out White Tiger? A very cool story/social commentary that carries the added benefit of learning all about Indian society without having to suffer the intolerable smugness of Slumdog Millionaire.
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Mr. Parcelan probably says this to all the girls:
they are all fantasy, yes, so i may be wasting my breath but other people might like it-First Law: Dark, Humorous, Gritty
-Steel Remains: Dark, Gritty, Homosexual
-Lies of Locke Lamora: A very genuine, very cool blend of wittiness, swashbuckling and magic. Excellent for anyone who likes a book that involves clever dialogue and plots and characters, fantasy or no.If non-fantasy is more your thang, have you checked out White Tiger? A very cool story/social commentary that carries the added benefit of learning all about Indian society without having to suffer the intolerable smugness of Slumdog Millionaire.
I might just check one of these out come payday.
I'm on Sick Puppy right now, I forgot how fun these books are.
The series started out great. Now it is merely good, but there are plenty of unfinished plot strands that are interesting enough to keep me going.
I hear that the ending of the series is a spectacular failure. Guess I'll find out.
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When the babel fish was in place, it was apparent Zair said:
Finishing up Wolves of the Calla, book 5 of the Dark Tower series.The series started out great. Now it is merely good, but there are plenty of unfinished plot strands that are interesting enough to keep me going.
I hear that the ending of the series is a spectacular failure. Guess I'll find out.
Sounds like Goodkind's Sword of Truth. Does it include the same kind of masturbatory Mary Sue bullshit as SoT?
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts aquire speed, the teeth acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
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Damnati's fortune cookie read:
Sounds like Goodkind's Sword of Truth. Does it include the same kind of masturbatory Mary Sue bullshit as SoT?
You were less offended by the ridiculous objectivist fetish?
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Mr. Parcelan stumbled drunkenly to the keyboard and typed:
You were less offended by the ridiculous objectivist fetish?
This is one of the points where I find my education lacking. Could you explain this or perhaps link me to something that would allow me to enlighten myself on the subject?
Edit: nevermind, the wife pointed me to an article on Ayn Rand's objectivism and that explained it nicely. I was quite a bit less offended by that particular element of the books, though it was rather foolish. Damnati fucked around with this message on 09-27-2009 at 08:26 PM.
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts aquire speed, the teeth acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
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Damnati got all f'ed up on Angel Dust and wrote:
This is one of the points where I find my education lacking. Could you explain this or perhaps link me to something that would allow me to enlighten myself on the subject?
Objectivism is basically greed and self-preservation taken to obnoxious levels. Theoretically, it is the idea that acting with rational self-interest as the foremost motive is the key to enhancing the condition of human society. Mostly, though, it involves a lot of nerdy neckbeards using it as an excuse for prejudice and greed. It was made famous by Ayn Rand's books.
Terry Goodkind (the author of SoT) feels that he does not write "fantasy" but rather masterpieces of objectivism. Thus, you wind up seeing in his later books (after he got his editor fired) rigidly black-and-white themes in which murder is justified if people don't agree with you (because Objectivism is great), rape is justified as a punishment (because they don't agree with the great truth of Objectivism), and acts that are vaguely pacifistic or humanitarian are stupid and must be punished.
Also, there's that whole undercurrent of racism in his books, as evidenced by the presence of "the Mud People."
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Mr. Parcelan had this to say about Reading Rainbow:
Objectivism is basically greed and self-preservation taken to obnoxious levels. Theoretically, it is the idea that acting with rational self-interest as the foremost motive is the key to enhancing the condition of human society. Mostly, though, it involves a lot of nerdy neckbeards using it as an excuse for prejudice and greed. It was made famous by Ayn Rand's books.Terry Goodkind (the author of SoT) feels that he does not write "fantasy" but rather masterpieces of objectivism. Thus, you wind up seeing in his later books (after he got his editor fired) rigidly black-and-white themes in which murder is justified if people don't agree with you (because Objectivism is great), rape is justified as a punishment (because they don't agree with the great truth of Objectivism), and acts that are vaguely pacifistic or humanitarian are stupid and must be punished.
Also, there's that whole undercurrent of racism in his books, as evidenced by the presence of "the Mud People."
I think all of that must have gotten lost behind the Amazing Escapades of Richard and Kahlan. How can you notice objectivism when the main character kills the most compelling female character up to that point in the books (Denna) then kills his father, stumbles into being a king, subsequently neglects his kingdom, and then procures a harem of hot, willing, bisexual dominatrixes in red leather body suits? This is just within the first three books, if I recall correctly, and it all goes downhill from there. The foray into the communist nation and all the Cold War era rhetoric was just stupid.
Then there's all those times when Richard just conveniently turns up with the exact talent necessary to save his bacon at the last possible second. The first instance of this that I recall was the statue he carved of himself and Kahlan and then publically destroyed in protest. The other one I can remember was the time he somehow conjured up the antidote for a rare, unknown poison from memory after discovering that the one person who knew how to make an antidote was dead.
If Terry Goodkind regards himself as writing objectivist masterpieces, one must conclude that objectivism is unconscionable bullshit or that Goodkind is a horrendous writer. I regard both as being true.
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts aquire speed, the teeth acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
Hissing, hackles lifting, the chicken's head rose.
Kahlan pulled back.
Its claws digging into stiff dead flesh, the chicken slowly turned to face her. It cocked its head, making its comb flop, its wattles sway.
"Shoo," Kahlan heard herself whisper.
There wasn't enough light, and besides, the side of its beak was covered with gore, so she couldn't tell if it had the dark spot. But she didn't need to see it.
"Dear spirits, help me," she prayed under her breath.
The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
This was evil manifest.
[...]
Her power, her magic, was also a weapon of defense. But it would only work on people. It would not work on a chicken. And it would not work on wickedness incarnate.
Her gaze flicked toward the door, checking the distance. The chicken took a single hop toward her. Claws gripping Juni's upper arm, it leaned her way. Her leg muscles tightened till they trembled.
The chicken backed up a step, tensed, and spurted feces onto Juni's face.
It let out the cackle that sounded like a laugh.
She dearly wished she could tell herself she was being silly. Imagining things.
But she knew better.
[...]
Kahlan frantically tried to think as the chicken bawk-bawk-bawked.
[...]
"Mother," the chicken croaked.
Kahlan flinched with a cry.
[... Kahlan knocks over a candle by mistake, plunging the barn into darkness]
In the dark, the chicken thing let out a low chicken cackle laugh.
It hadn't come from where she expected the chicken to be. It was behind her.
"Please, I mean no harm," she called into the darkness. "I mean no disrespect. I will leave you to your business now, if that's all right with you."
She took another shuffling step toward the door. She moved carefully, slowly, in case the chicken thing was in the way. She didn't want to bump into it and make it angry. She mustn't underestimate it.
Kahlan had on any number of occasions thrown herself with ferocity against seemingly invincible foes. She knew well the value of a resolute violent attack. But she also somehow knew beyond doubt that this adversary could, if it wanted, kill her as easily as she could wring a real chicken's neck. If she forced a fight, this was one she would lose.
[...]
The chicken thing let out a whispering cackle.
[... she's trying to find the door, she's crying and panicking, she stubs her toe and falls down.]
With the next flash of lightning, she saw chicken feet standing between her and the crack under the door. The thing wasn't more than a foot from her face.
[...]
The beak pinched the vein on the back of her hand over her eyes. The chicken tugged, as if trying to pull a worm from the ground.
It was a command. It wanted her hand away from her eyes.
The beak gave a sharp tug on her skin. There was no mistaking the meaning in that insistent yank. Move the hand, now, it was saying, or you'll be sorry.
If she made it angry, there was no telling what it was capable of doing to her. Juni lay dead above her as a reminder of the possibilities.
She told herself that if it pecked at her eyes, she would have to grab it and try to wring its neck. If she was quick, it could only get in one peck. She would have one eye left. She would have to fight it then. But only if it went for her eyes.
Her instincts screamed that such action would be the most foolish, dangerous thing she could do. Both the Bird Man and Richard said this was not a chicken. She no longer doubted them. But she might have no choice.
If she started, it would be a fight to the death. She held no illusion as to her chances. Nonetheless, she might be forced to fight it. With her last breath, if need be, as her father had taught her.
The chicken snatched a bigger beakful of her skin along with the vein and twisted. Last warning.
Kahlan carefully moved her trembling hand away. The chicken-thing cackled softly with satisfaction.
this is straight from one of his books
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The chicken backed up a step, tensed, and spurted feces onto Juni's face.It let out the cackle that sounded like a laugh.
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts aquire speed, the teeth acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
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Nobody really understood why Greenlit wrote:
did someone say terry goodkind?!Hissing, hackles lifting, the chicken's head rose.
Kahlan pulled back.
Its claws digging into stiff dead flesh, the chicken slowly turned to face her. It cocked its head, making its comb flop, its wattles sway.
"Shoo," Kahlan heard herself whisper.
There wasn't enough light, and besides, the side of its beak was covered with gore, so she couldn't tell if it had the dark spot. But she didn't need to see it.
"Dear spirits, help me," she prayed under her breath.
The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
This was evil manifest.
[...]
Her power, her magic, was also a weapon of defense. But it would only work on people. It would not work on a chicken. And it would not work on wickedness incarnate.
Her gaze flicked toward the door, checking the distance. The chicken took a single hop toward her. Claws gripping Juni's upper arm, it leaned her way. Her leg muscles tightened till they trembled.
The chicken backed up a step, tensed, and spurted feces onto Juni's face.
It let out the cackle that sounded like a laugh.
She dearly wished she could tell herself she was being silly. Imagining things.
But she knew better.
[...]
Kahlan frantically tried to think as the chicken bawk-bawk-bawked.
[...]
"Mother," the chicken croaked.
Kahlan flinched with a cry.
[... Kahlan knocks over a candle by mistake, plunging the barn into darkness]
In the dark, the chicken thing let out a low chicken cackle laugh.
It hadn't come from where she expected the chicken to be. It was behind her.
"Please, I mean no harm," she called into the darkness. "I mean no disrespect. I will leave you to your business now, if that's all right with you."
She took another shuffling step toward the door. She moved carefully, slowly, in case the chicken thing was in the way. She didn't want to bump into it and make it angry. She mustn't underestimate it.
Kahlan had on any number of occasions thrown herself with ferocity against seemingly invincible foes. She knew well the value of a resolute violent attack. But she also somehow knew beyond doubt that this adversary could, if it wanted, kill her as easily as she could wring a real chicken's neck. If she forced a fight, this was one she would lose.
[...]
The chicken thing let out a whispering cackle.
[... she's trying to find the door, she's crying and panicking, she stubs her toe and falls down.]
With the next flash of lightning, she saw chicken feet standing between her and the crack under the door. The thing wasn't more than a foot from her face.
[...]
The beak pinched the vein on the back of her hand over her eyes. The chicken tugged, as if trying to pull a worm from the ground.
It was a command. It wanted her hand away from her eyes.
The beak gave a sharp tug on her skin. There was no mistaking the meaning in that insistent yank. Move the hand, now, it was saying, or you'll be sorry.
If she made it angry, there was no telling what it was capable of doing to her. Juni lay dead above her as a reminder of the possibilities.
She told herself that if it pecked at her eyes, she would have to grab it and try to wring its neck. If she was quick, it could only get in one peck. She would have one eye left. She would have to fight it then. But only if it went for her eyes.
Her instincts screamed that such action would be the most foolish, dangerous thing she could do. Both the Bird Man and Richard said this was not a chicken. She no longer doubted them. But she might have no choice.
If she started, it would be a fight to the death. She held no illusion as to her chances. Nonetheless, she might be forced to fight it. With her last breath, if need be, as her father had taught her.
The chicken snatched a bigger beakful of her skin along with the vein and twisted. Last warning.
Kahlan carefully moved her trembling hand away. The chicken-thing cackled softly with satisfaction.
this is straight from one of his books
So what happened??
Did it peck her eyes or what
she's a protagonist though, she is protected by plot armor
Not a bad memory for not having read the book in 5+ years.
But yah, now that I read those passages, I don't know why I ever liked his books. Then again, I'm a Salvatore junky.
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Mr. Parcelan wrote this then went back to looking for porn:
For purposes of straight-up Science Fiction, I'm told that Richard Morgan's Altered Carbon is one of the opuses of the genre, too.
Read that. It's okay.
I think the author's intention was to show how society would change when people are able to switch bodies and potentially live forever, rather than telling a good story. I think he suceeded.
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Quoth Mr. Parcelan:
For purposes of straight-up Science Fiction, I'm told that Richard Morgan's Altered Carbon is one of the opuses of the genre, too.
I've read that, and it is indeed fantastic. Not for the sexually squeamish, though--the entire thing is a treatise on what it means to separate the connection of mind and body...and there are a couple of gross-out moments to illustrate the point.
--Satan, quoted by John Milton
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Nobody really understood why Bloodsage wrote:
I've read that, and it is indeed fantastic. Not for the sexually squeamish, though--the entire thing is a treatise on what it means to separate the connection of mind and body...and there are a couple of gross-out moments to illustrate the point.
Gross-out is indeed Richard Morgan's style, if The Steel Remains is anything to go by.
There's a common criticism that he did it a bit too much in that book in an attempt to be edgy.
