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/lit/ - Literature

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22727542 No.22727542 [Reply] [Original]

When does it get bad? I'm reading it and every page is a literal masterpiece, getting tired of whispering "fucking kino..." under my breath.

>> No.22727563

Why, in The Great Ordeal, but only a little. Such a great series, I hope he gets past his writer's block and writes the final arc.

>> No.22727630

Maybe I'm just retarded but I found the first few chapters really hard to follow, there's so many names and places thrown at you it's hard to keep track of who's who.
Didn't have this problem with lotr or other fantasy books.

>> No.22727633

>>22727563
>Why, in The Great Ordeal, but only a little.
Imagine being this pretentious over middle of the road fanatsy "literature."

>> No.22727636

>>22727542
I’m starting this in a few weeks and am beyond excited

>> No.22728512

>>22727633
Seething

>> No.22728523

>>22727542
It never gets bad. It's kino, and it's a shame that Gene Wolfe is in every /lit/ top 100 instead of this

>> No.22728548

First trilogy 10/10. The Sequel series is 8/10. It neve goes bad, but the middle third of the sequel series gets a bit flabby.

>> No.22728796

>>22727563
According to his brother he's focusing on raising his daughters right now, but I too dearly hope he comes back to it. He should have plenty of time.

>> No.22728812

>>22727542
The Fanim are the good guys in this series. Everyone else is evil and/or worships evil gods.

>> No.22729275

>>22728812
The Zeum are the good guys

>> No.22729610

I thought Wolfe was the shit? Now I see him getting shit on in multiple threads. Should I read Bakker instead?

>> No.22730612

>>22729610
Yes

>> No.22730623

>>22730612
Ok I'll trust you anon

>> No.22730666

>>22727542
Shit bait

>> No.22730683
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22730683

>>22727542
utterly based
i miss the glory days of /sffg/ bakkerposting circa 2020-21

>> No.22731275

>>22729610
/lit/ only latches on Wolfe can he was a catholic
BOTN is godawful

>> No.22731321

>>22727630
I had the same issue, I couldn't follow it and drop it. Until gave it a second try, and sat down to reading uninterrupted and it blew up my mind. Once you get accustom to the writing style and build context you can't put the books down. I still haven't read anything like it.

>> No.22731328

>>22727542
>>22727563
>>22727630
>>22728548
>>22729610
>>22731321
Bakker is KING
>Then the madness fell away. Once again it was the pure thunder of the charge. The strange camaraderie of men bent to a single, fatal purpose. Hummocks, scrub, and the bones of the Vulgar Holy War’s dead rushed beneath. The wind bled through chain links, tousled Thunyeri braids and Tydonni crests. Bright banners slapped against the sky. The heathen, wicked and foul, drew closer, ever closer. One last storm of arrows, these ones almost horizontal to the ground, punching against shield and armour. Some were struck from their saddles. Tongue tips were bitten off in the concussion of the fall. The unhorsed arched across the turf, screamed and swatted at the sky. Wounded mounts danced in frothing circles nearby. The rest thundered on, over grasses, through patches of blooming milkwort waving in the wind. They couched their lances, twenty thousand men draped in great mail hauberks over thick felt, with coifs across their faces and helms that swept down to their cheeks, riding chargers caparisoned in mail or iron plates. The fear dissolved into drunken speed, into the momentum, became so mingled with exhilaration as to be indistinguishable from it. They were addicted to the charge, the Men of the Tusk. Everything focused into the glittering tip of a lance. The target nearer, nearer … The rumble of hooves and drums drowned their kinsmen’s song. They crashed through a thin screen of sumac … Saw eyes whiten in sudden terror. Then impact. The jarring splinter of wood as lances speared through shield, through armour. Suddenly the ground became still and solid beneath them, and the air rang with wails and shouts. Hands drew sword and axe. Everywhere figures grappled and hacked. Horses reared. Blades pitched blood into the sky. And the Kianene fell, undone by their ferocity, crumpling beneath northern hands, dying beneath pale faces and merciless blue eyes. The heathen recoiled from the slaughter—and fled.
KINO