Sonntag, 20. November 2011

The End

What an ironic title considering that this is my first blog post ever! It came to life last night when I finished reading Wizard's First Rule from Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series. While I know that fantasy isn't commonly regarded as "valuable" reading (and believe me, I feel guilty enough every time I read something that isn't part of the canon) it is my weak spot. Anyway, if The Lord of the Rings is considered a classic, then why shouldn't any other fantasy books be? Wizard's First Rule is a great book, it's touching, thoughtful and very philosophic, the fantastic world in it mirrors our society and the heroes have to deal with realistic (and partly absolutely heartbreaking) problems.
However, I didn't so much want to write about the book itself as more about my reading process. With more than 800 pages it isn't exactly a short story and I was rather busy lately so it took me quite a long time to read it;
Despite the fact that Goodkind's novel is a page-turner I had been working through it for almost two months when I finally finished the last chapter yesterday.

Honestly, I don't know what to say.

For two months I accompanied Richard and Kahlan, the main characters, I felt their pain, their fear, their excitement. They became a part of me. It's been a long time since a book touched me so much, had so much influence on my life. For two months I would turn to their story every time I was fed up with my own world, I knew they would be waiting for me. Even when I wasn't reading, in boring classes or on the bus for example, I thought about them, I pondered over their relationship, I agonised over a way how they could possibly defeat their nemesis.
Now that they have done that (and what a finale it was! It proved once again that words are stronger than weapons) I'm alone in my world again.
There are some sequels, but I was told that none of them is in the least as good as the first book and that's generally true in fantasy literature. For me, Kahlan and Richard's story is over, and they have left me. Sure, a part of them will stay with me forever, but nonetheless I'm feeling hollow, empty.

With really good books you don't just read a story, you start to feel the books, you start to live inside of them, and when you finish the last chapter a little bit of yourself dies. Killing a part of their readers' hearts, that's the gift of all great authors.
Thankfully that part comes alive again every time we re-read their works.

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