Forest Mage... Thoughts
Last night I pretty much knocked out Robin Hobb's Forest Mage between the hours of 1:30 and 4:30 AM. (If this sounds like an odd time to begin a book, remember that I don't actually get home from work on Thursdays until midnight.) I was just going to read for a few minutes, but then I got into it... and then the creepiness started occurring. A huge chunk of the plot revolves around a mysterious plague, during which our narrator ends up working as a gravedigger. I was OK with this, until the bodies of plague victims started reanimating themselves and walking around. I was like, "OK, that is it. No more." I don't know if I've mentioned it here (probably, at some point), but I have this irrational fear of dead people. I tend to blame it on my dad making me look at the mummies at the Museum of History and Art when I was about 7. Yeah. So here I am at 3:30ish, thinking it is way too late and I should set the book down and go to sleep. Except now I was too creeped out to sleep, because I kept thinking about dead plague victims walking around. So I just kept reading.
This was the second book of a trilogy. It continues the Robin Hobb trend of abusing her protagonists. Poor Nevare and Fitz. Come to think of it, she refrained from abusing anyone in the Liveship books. No, wait. Wintrow's own father tattooed his face with a slave tattoo and then shortly afterward his hand got cut off. But that was the first book, and things really did go up from there... really.
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