My worst literary nightmare has come true. Yes, I do have nightmares involving literature. Anyway, Robert Jordan, author of the gigantic and unfinished Wheel of Time epic fantasy series, has died. I started reading these with the publication of... Hmmm... I think it was book 4 at some point in high school. Book 11 came out a couple of years ago, and was sort of a nice progression from the previous few volumes, where not much seemed to happen. Finally things were moving again, and rumor had it there was only one more to go. I felt the story needed two more, but I figured maybe fan apathy was making him have to finish it off. I mean this series was INCREDIBLE up through book 6 or so, and then got bogged down under it's own weight. Too many characters to deal with, and too many storylines that aren't that exciting. Then I heard about Jordan have some blood disease or heart condition, and that he and his wife were working together to get the last book done before he died, because it was one of those, "You have maybe a year to live" kind of things from the doctors. As I hear it now, the book is not done. It might be a better legacy remaining unfinished. People can always wonder what might have been, and no one will have to be disappointed.

In all this, I should mention that of course my prayers go out to the family of James Oliver Rigney Jr (Jordan's real name). No matter what, he brought me to such utter joy and excitement as I have rarely had in reading. In the fantasy genre, only Tolkien and perhaps Martin stand higher. He was truly a master of his craft, and I guarantee I will remember and reread these books for the rest of my life.

Edit: I should have mentioned that I met the man at two different book signings, and my dear Mother waited in line herself at a signing I couldn't get to myself for an hour and a half. We both found him to be charming in the brief words we shared.