The Malloreon

David Eddings, Guardians of the West
King of the Murgos
Demon Lord of Karanda
Sorceress of Darshiva
The Seeress of Kell

I didn't reread these three summers ago when I went on my Eddings binge because I didn't have a copy of the first one. I finally fixed that a few weeks ago, so figured it was about time to decide whether these are worth keeping.

Um.

Really bloody annoying sexism? Check.
Racism as shorthand for character? Check and double check: the only reason the titular King of the Murgos is a human being is that he's half Drasnian (by which I mean "half Silk").
Plot consisting of characters being led around by the nose for no good reason? Check.
Godawful dialect? Check.
General exhaustion and no real desire to read much further by midway through book four? Check.

And yet. I've read these books so often, especially the first three, that they're seared into my brain. In a lot of ways they're the only good memories of junior high that I've got. The dialog's snappy, the individual episodes aren't too bad. . . meh. I've got the Elenium for that, and it's shorter, to boot.

Anyone want hardback copies of the Belgariad and the Malloreon?

i am so. bloody. tired.

Work is obscenely busy. Things I'm not ready to talk about are falling apart. My car just required $1K worth of work. Gaming on Saturday turned out to be stupid for several reasons. My internal clock is convinced that bedtime is around one and wakeuptime is no later than 8:30, which means I'm losing the opportunity to catch up on sleep on the weekend. I just spent a week and a half reading five books that were supposed to be brainfluff but I couldn't turn my brain off enough to enjoy the fluffery. Whine whine whine.

Tribal Cafe last night, on the other hand, was nothing short of phenomenal. One very gothic duo who were alright but didn't wow me, for I think the same reason much of Belly Horror on Friday didn't: it seemed. . . more about the dancer and less about the dance, if that makes any sense. One duo (Shadhavar) that were pretty much exactly why I like going to Tribal Cafe. And Frank, about whom I can only say "yowza." That and "i think i felt my kinsey score rise."

Plus the weather was good, and there was a steelpan busker in Adams Morgan who was pretty awesome. He played "Hoedown" and another couple of pieces I ought to have recognised but didn't, all of which translated well into ringing percussion.

Yeah. Maybe thinking about better things will keep me rocking out and having fun.