I’m sorry these entries about Eddings’ work haven’t had much to them in the way of substance, but I’ve internalized so many things about these books that I think my brain just kind of shuts down where they are concerned. Do other people have this problem with certain books or films? I know my brain shuts down when I watch The Pirate Movie as well, and it’s of even lower quality than these novels (it’s downright horrible, as opposed to simply “not great”, as Eddings’ books are). I’ve thought about whether or not I’m just afraid to look too closely about works that, though unashamedly lowbrow (and seriously, Eddings has nothing to be ashamed of; these books are a boatload of fun), are still incredibly dear to my heart. Robertson Davies, my literary idol, had the same issue with Stephen Leacock, being unable to look at his work without a certain amount of vaseline on the lens, so to speak. Although Davies did also say at one point that a steady diet of only the best is just as bad for you as a steady diet of nothing but junk. At any rate, this marks the end of The Belgariad, and now I’ll get on to the five books of The Malloreon.
Next up: Guardians of the West, by David Eddings.
