Like many readers, or former readers, of the Wheel of Time, I fell in love with the cycle’s first book, The Eye of the World. And that affair continued strong for a least a couple of more books before things began to take a turn for the worse. I have to say that even though I tired of his wordiness, rambling plot threads, and other issues, I did eventually return with each new book, though often long after its initial published date. The Wheel of Time was, for a time, a great series and many people may still consider it such — though it certainly would have been better as a cycle of six novels — and I think it will be a series that endures in fantasy literature, perhaps moreso now with his untimely death.
I was looking forward to the final chapter of tale begun almost two decades ago, and I had high expectations, as the 11th novel, Knife of Dreams, was his strongest in over ten years. Bad luck. Worse for his family and friends of course, and his fervent fans, and for anyone that admires writers and craftsmen and people who create.