machinshin

Yesterday, I was looking for something to read, and I grabbed a fantasy book. I read the first few pages, and it was just terrible. I flipped through some of my favorite fantasy books that I've read, and it just seems like I've out grown the genre. Now, the book in question, is some sort of piece involving *gasp* an ancient evil brought back to life after eons of sleep, to wreak havoc on the people of..."Corona" was the name of this little world. Of course, the first thing this "demon" did when he awoke was think of the legendary hero that stabbed him through the heart. So...it took me about three seconds to do the entire plot of the book in my mind. Young man "A" discovers that a hero has been born in him, and he must defeat an ancient evil that threatens to ruin the world. There are surely going to be a cast of characters that defy the imagination. I see...a gristly dwarf, a nimble and snooty elf, a tough but vulnerable woman that the hero will save and fall in love with. This orgy of sophomoric crap culminates 5 books later with the climactic battle between hero "A" and demon. The world is safe, hero and woman live on, and name their children after the elf or dwarf that died to show that protagonists are vulnerable, but only if you're and elf or a dwarf. I have enjoyed several fantasy books that did not follow this mold at all. Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series has characters that are engaging, and elements that were original and very compelling. I suppose that indicting the entire genre of fantasy is a bit harsh. R.A Salvatore is the Jerry Bruckheimer of the fantasy world, so it might not be fair to judge the progression of the art by his work. Regardless, I do feel much less interested and consumed by fantasy as I once did. This saddens me, because for a time, those books were a wonderful place that I could find solace from the real world in. I could feel strong, smart, and pretend I was as good looking as al-Lan Mandragoran, or as tricky and wisecracking and Matrim Cauthon. So many classic books in my eyes were fantasy, but now it seems so different. I am seeing why people say the things that they do about these books, and it is discouraging to think that something I once treasured greatly is now being revealed to be defunct and as bad as people claim it is. Oh well, whatever. I guess losing your previous identity is part of growing up.