The Way of Kings Review *SPOILERS*

I've finally (almost) finished it! This is the book I mentioned forever ago, the one that's 1,252 pages long. I'm almost done it, with a little less than 100 pages left, but I got a little excited and decided to do the review now. I highly doubt my opinion will change in the last few chapters.

I think we might have the beginning of a series that will be a contender for my favourite book series. This book is amazing, but definitely not for anyone who hates world building. The Way of Kings is unique because of the new world that Brandon Sanderson has created. The biggest detail is something called the Highstorms, which are pretty much hurricanes that come every few days. The world also includes massive exoskeleton creatures, plants that are either made of rock or disappear into the ground at the slightest wind or touch, seasons that last only weeks, and of course magic. Of all of Sanderson's books, this is definitely the best example of world building.

Of course, creating a new world can be confusing for the reader. I love it, as it gives you the chance to use your imagination and see old things at new angles. However, I know there are plenty of fantasy fiction readers who hate it. They don't like trying to figure out what a simple thing is, and don't understand why it has to be given a new name. For example, the end of a year is called a Weeping, money is called spheres, and devices that use some sort of electricity are called fabrials. But the best part is how Sanderson shows all the new details. Of course he uses words, but in addition he created a character who is very skilled at drawing. It's through many of her drawings that we see things such as Chulls (large lobster-like creatures with a thick shell), skyeels (basically flying eels...) and the many plant forms.

Every author and book has flaws though. There were several grammatical or spelling errors that I noticed, but the those were easy to pass over. The largest thing I noticed, and one that may have been deliberate, was the use of the omnipotent narrator. Normally this'll mean getting into the mind of several characters, but being separated by a page break or a chapter. He does this, but in the same chapter, and even in the same paragraph, he'll switch between two or three different points of views. It's very distracting, but probably not that big for someone that reads, but does't write.

Despite the flaws, this is definitely one of my favourite books. Anything by Brandon Sanderson has been amazing, and I would suggest any of his works to other fantasy fiction readers. He's one of those authors that you might have heard of a few times, but never thought to pick up his books. Do it! You'll never regret it!


And some additional art:

Meet Nug

I guess I kin of just ended the character conversations, but I still have characters. Here is one I've just kind of come up with. I'll probably use him as a small side character in a novel.


PART I. PHYSICAL
Full name: Brannug, more commonly known as Nug
Date of Birth/Age: March 18, 1156/ 33
Address: N/A
Race/Ethnic Background/Nationality: Scottish
Height: 5”5
Weight/Body Build: pudgy and round, but muscular
Hair: red with flecks of blond
Eyes: a murky grey-green colour
Peculiar Physical Traits
Glasses/Contacts: None, but probably needs them
Smokes: loves his pipe
Nervous Habits: laughing at inappropriate times, accidental eye winks, also at inappropriate times
Distinguishing Marks: A scar on his chin that is partly hidden by a shaggy beard
Health: Could be better
Smell: Sweat, smoke and salted fish
Voice: More high pitch than would be expected of a man of his girth, heavily accented to the point of being hard to understand
Usual Walking Style: A kind of waddle-strut
Mannerisms: Big ego, very outgoing, hides any nervousness being humour
What type of clothes/shoes/accessories does he/she wear?: A once white-now grey- shirt under a well-worn vest that has lost all its buttons. One of his ‘lucky’ boots was once half eaten by a wolf when it attacked him, now leaving it an inch and a half shorter than the other boot.
Any peculiar tastes in clothes/shoes/accessories?: He hates to change his clothing, thinking that the longer he’s had this current clothes, the more lucky they are. Most of the things he wears have holes and stains on them.
Eating habits/mannerisms/tastes: A hearty eater, but surprisingly picky. If he finds something he likes, he will eat only that until he tires of it.

PART II. GENERAL
Occupation/Social Class: Soldier, lower class in the army.
Views on Money/Spending Habits: Money is meant to be spent, why bother keeping it?
Education/Intelligence: Some insight he has gained simply from living, but otherwise his only training is from the army.
Marital Status: Single, probably forever
Political Party/Views: Loyal to his Lord and superiors, even if he disrespects them from time to time. He makes it very clear he is not a mercenary , and would never switch sides for money or other bribes.
Religious Beliefs/Strength of Beliefs: Attributes his good luck to God, but otherwise does not have much belief.
Sexual Orientation/Values: Likes women, but gets nervous around them.
What is his/her usual disposition?
Optimist/Pessimist?: Most definitely an optimist
Introvert/Extrovert?: Shows off an extroverted image, but is still partly an introvert
Confident/Self-conscious?: More confident than he deserves to be
How does he/she feel about his/her appearance?: Knows he’s not much to look at, but doesn’t care. It’s personality that matters.
Most important possession: His lucky boots
Hobbies/Recreations/Sports: Loves to playfully spar with other soldiers, but also secretly likes the more elegant art form of dancing. Despite his heavy set body and short legs, he’s actually fairly good, not that he would let anyone know.
Talents: A fairly good fighter with a short sword (he wasn’t allowed to use a long sword), and a decent brawler. He’s also a pretty good dancer
What is a normal day like for this character?: Wake up, eat breakfast, spar, eat brunch, more sparring, eat lunch, take a nap, eat supper, brawl, eat dinner, gambling and drinking, sneak a snack, sleep
Greatest Fear: Being sent away from the army and everyone he knows
Major Goals
1. Gain more status as a soldier (maybe save a superior’s life?)
2. Find the perfect food
3. And the perfect chef
4. Live long enough to retire with the rest of the soldiers in his squad

PART III. RELATIONSHIPS
Significant Other/Relationship: None, and nothing in the foreseeable future
Who does he/she live with?: A bunch of other men in a barrack
Who does he/she spend the most time with?: A dozen or so other men he calls his closest friends
Father/Relationship with him/Occupation: His father was a forester for a small Lord; died during an uprising of the peasants
Mother/Relationship with her/Occupation: Housewife; died in same uprising
Siblings/Relationships: Single child
Children/Ages: No children
Feelings toward animals: They’re alright, but best as food
How does he/she view his family?: He misses them from time to time, but they’ve been dead for years.
How does he/she view his friends?: Pretty much the only reason he stays wit the army
How does he/she view his boss/co-workers/employees?: With admiration, if not always respect
How does his family view him?: They’re dead…
How does his friends view him?: He’s fun to be around, though he could use a bath
How does his boss/co-workers/employees view him?: he’s just another soldier to them
Who is his hero?: Anyone who can as well, or better than him

Other comments: He joined the army after the death of his parents, seeing no other reason to stay and feeling regret that he could do not do anything to help them.

I Was a Gullible Child

A Youtuber I've been watching recently did a show based on what they used to believe. I thought it was an interesting idea, so I'm going to some the same thing.

1) When I went to the dentist, I thought that cavities were little bugs or germs that ate your teeth. I had no idea that cavity meant a hole.

2) Now I must have known this before, but yesterday I just realized that there are 31 days in July. I thought the months went 30-31-30, and because August has 31 days, I automatically thought July had 30. Since then I've been taught the knuckle trick, where the knuckle is a month with 31 days, and the groove between the knuckles is a month with 30 or less days. However, I've managed to convince half the people at work that there are 30 days in July...

3) When I was younger, my aunt gave my sister and I some of her old toys. One of them was a barbie that had hair that grew. All you had to do was turn a little dial on her back. There wasn't much left when my sister and I got it, but we thought it was endless. So we cut all the hair off. Later, I tried to do the same with all my other barbies, thinking that their hair would grow back. It didn't.

4) Because my dad used to play Hockey, for some reason I got it into my mind that he played professionally. I asked him once if I would see him on TV, and the said that he would be on very late at night. So that night, when I was at a sleepover at my friends' house, I told them that we had to stay up late to watch my dad play hockey. Of course, we had no idea what channel or what time, and we probably fell asleep early.

5) I also believed my dad was part of the Beatles. He was a huge Beatles fan, and when I was really young he would sing 'Close Your Eyes' (might not be the title of the song, I can't quite remember it). It was also around this time I would go around the house singing the chorus for 'Yellow Submarine'. All day. Every day. I'm now realizing that I was not only gullible, but very annoying...


The ironic thing is, I can remember the point when I realized Santa wasn't real. I was probably around seven or so, and I was playing with the doll house I got for Christmas. I think it was in the summer, so probably about six months after I got the doll house. Then it suddenly dawned on me I had actually watched my dad make part of this doll house. Now I didn't think that my dad was Santa, or worked for Santa. As far as I can remember, I just kind of thought 'hey... Santa didn't give me this.' Then again, I could have been traumatized and just repressed the memory...

But for the record, I never believed in the Easter Bunny. My dad had tried to claim he saw it once, but I just laughed at him... I did believe in the Tooth Fairy though, and I still find it amazing, and kind of disturbing, that my parents could reach under my pillow to take the tooth and place a coin without me waking up. Imagine if it was a murderer?

A Choice

After over a week of being divided between the two schools, I think I've made a choice.

Kwantlen and UBC both have their merits and downfalls, of course. They're both difficult to get to, though Kwantlen seems to be a little easier. UBC is prestigious, but for a creative writing major, does that really matter? There are writers that never went to post secondary for writing, and have done fairly well. So the actual course doesn't matter all that much, and that's pretty much the only thing that was drawing me toward UBC.

There has just been so many complications with UBC. First is the $250 fee to accept their acceptance. Then I would have to take at least one class in the fall or winter semester to stay as a new applicant at the school. This makes sense, but I would have to pay for a winter class now, rather than later. I cannot afford that now, as I just paid off my tuition for one class at Douglas, and UBC is much more expensive. Not to mention there are very few classes that are open now that I'm interested in. I think there was one Latin class, but it was three days a week for one hour. It feels like such a waste to go all the way into Vancouver for one hour every day, when the commute one way will take twice as long.

So as you might have guessed, I've picked Kwantlen. My mom has already told me that she's okay if I don't go to UBC, but I tink my dad will be kind of disappointed. But I'm not going to pay an outrageous amount of money for a degree at UBC that I can get at Kwantlen for a lower price. Not to mention I don't have to pay for my winter semester at Kwantlen now. I can't even sign up for Winter courses there until later. It's much more like my current college, so the transition will be easier.

Not as Boring as I thought

As I'm going through my school conundrum, I've been having some people offer their own opinion by response to one of my posts. You know what this means? People other than my friends and family are reading my blog! I feel accomplished.

And while we're on this topic (sort of), I would like to introduce one of my friends who has been having much more fame through her blog and Deviantart account. Meet Vanessa Wong, an amazing artist and make up enthusiast, who has recently celebrated having 400 watchers on Deviantart. On her Deviantart page you can see her amazing artistic ability. She's recently started getting into digital drawing, and so far everything looks fantastic.

Although she hasn't post much on her blog, what she has done is very entertaining and enlightening, most specifically in the field of make up. And, much like me, she enjoys Legend of Zelda and other similar video games, which she'll talk about from time to time.

And to all my readers, if you have a blog that you want me to read, just leave a comment. I can't read it if I can't find it, right?

Digging a Little Deeper

As I mentioned on Monday, I have a copy of the first story I began to write. Actually, it's the second copy, the first is still in my little black notebook, which I also have, and may share later. Anyway, bear in mind this was started probably at least eight years ago...

Vivid green eyes stared into their exact double. They blinked at the same time, their eyelids drooped simultaneously and snapped back open without a pause. When two rain drops slithered over one set of eyes, the other pair shifted their gaze to the tousled up golden hair. The reflected eyes followed. With a sigh of annoyance, Arica pursed her light pink lips. Rain pounded down on the window, speckling her reflection, her only companion in the small carriage, aside from her cousin. Lightning burst from the dark rain clouds, followed closely by a loud peel of thunder, accompanied by her cousin's loud snore. With a roll of her eyes, Arica threw her pillow at him.

            “Damien, shut up that racket!” She hissed and bent down to scoop up the pillow. When she glanced back at Damien, his green eyes were open and staring at her.

            “You know, you're not exactly a silent sleeper either.” He commented before shifting in his seat in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position on the rock hard carriage seats. After a few seconds of squirming around, he settled down with his back to Arica. The snoring started up soon after. Sighing again, Arica placed her pillow under her head. She closed her eyes and her reflection copied without hesitation.

            Darkness engulfed Arica as she looked around wildly. Where was she?  Slowly shapes emerged, trees, boulders, grass, a brilliant red… sky? She looked up into the slow swirling flames. No heat emitted from them, not a wisp of smoke or the crackle of flames. Wind swirled around Arica, whipping her hair around.

“Hello…” It seemed to say in a breezy voice.

“Who are you!” Arica called into the air. No reply. She started to call again when the world started to shake. Trees crashed down, dirt was flung everywhere and the sky, so calm before, seemed to rage to life. A tree fell down close to Arica, sending another toppling over, right onto her. Her scream caught in her throat as branches covered her like a hard and prickly blanket.

A Glimpse at the Past

I didn't forget this time! I just kind of procrastinated... Anyway, I'm tired, so I'm going to treat you to the first several paragraphs of a novel I had started years ago. You should know that I've scrapped this version and started working on a newer one not too long ago (Okay, a couple years ago...), but it's always fun to go back and look at what I used to be. I have stuff from even farther back, but that's even more embarrassing.

            Thick black smoke curled around the floor just outside a large wooden door, followed a few seconds later by a loud bang. A serving girl scurried past, apparently not all that surprised by the explosion. The door slammed open, and a young man stumbled out, coughing hard. The smoke settled on everything it touched, forming a thick layer of soot. Another serving lady appeared around the corner, holding a wet towel in her hands.

            “For you, my lord.” She said quietly, and then hurried off once the man had taken the cloth. With a sigh, he scrubbed his face clean.

            The young man had dark brown hair, just long enough to brush his shoulders, without having to be pulled back. His dark blue eyes were red from lack of sleep, and no doubt from the black dust flying around, and his clothes could have come from a wealthy merchant, with a plain white shirt embroidered at the cuffs and collar, and brown tight fitting breeches, with even more embroidery.

            “Again?” An amused voice asked from down the hall.

            “I just can’t seem to get it right, father.” The younger man said in a resigned tone. “Everything I try, it blows up or does nothing. Every combination I can think of. It just does not work.”

            “Don't give up, Tanlar; I'm sure you will get it soon.” The older man, Lord Eiad, patted Tanlar on the back and gave him a joyful smile.

            “But it’s hopeless! I have been trying and trying for over a year now. Nothing I try has worked!” Tanlar threw the towel onto the ground, where an unseen servant hurried to pick it up. Already there were maids running around the two men, cleaning the walls and floor from the black dust.

            “You know you can’t say that!” Lord Eiad said growled as he let his anger get the better of him. Tanlar pursed his lips and looked pointedly at the mess around him with a raised eyebrow.

            “Fine, I will work on it for one more month, if I haven't finished anything by then, I will give up.” Without waiting for a reply from his father, Tanlar stormed off back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and raising another small cloud of black dust.