Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Four hundred pages into Reaper’s Gale now. Somebody’s missing, isn’t it? Where is the Preda, the head of the military? Sure, it is a job for an Edur, these days – but who is he? Rautos Hivanar is head of the filthy rich. Hannan Mosag is head of the mages. Who has command of the army?

   Also, I had no recollection at all of that body-switching between Anaster, and Toc. I’m surprised by how blank I am about this. So much stuff happens! A normal human brain could never remember it all. Bits and pieces of the first three books begin to elude me already. Beru fend! Exactly how did Kulp die, and where? Was it Gryllen? I’m not sure…

   Last week, someone recommended I read George R. R. Martin... Yes, of course. Like I’m gonna launch my head into yet another multi-thousand pages marathon, and possibly remember merely half of it!

   Writers are underpaid, I suppose: that’s why the books are huge nowadays. The two hundred page novels may well be a thing of the past... Just one other guy like Erikson or Esslemont comes along, and I’m dead. See ya in Hood’s funeral parlor!

   The Old Man and the Sea, now that is an amazing story – and only a hundred and fifty pages. And Lovecraft’s longest? One hundred?

   Also, I wanted to tackle Balzac, before I die. Huh. That’s twenty thousand pages.

   What I’m saying, I guess, is this. Writers have been underpaid for a long time.