Two McMillion

Granted. You're a drab. I would like a universe that is an exact copy of this one sans me getting a curse when I get a boon from the nightwatcher.

I think the ending to the first book ran largely on rule of drama. In some ways, it's not more inherently implausible than anything else in the book before it. Plus, as the beginning of a trilogy, we know the story isn't over yet. I'm a lot more willing to forgive things like drawing on the mists if I have confidence they're a question that's going to be answered and if I know there's still more trouble on the horizon. In that sense, Mistborn 1 delivers. The lesson here, I think is that readers want, before everything else, good stories. Some things are more conducive to good stories and some are less so, but anything is acceptable if the story itself is good enough.

Before anyone gets all indignant, let me stress that I think the ending of the Mistborn series is done well. I enjoyed it. Deus ex Machina is generally held to be a bad trope, but like all trope it's perfectly possible to do it well. If the ending of the original trilogy is indeed one, then it is perhaps the best execution of one that I've ever seen. Having said that, I think there's some room for discussion of it. I think very few of us felt cheated at the end of the original trilogy, but when you get down to it just describing the ending is the kind of thing that sounds cringeworthy. Character becomes a god, solves all the problems in a couple pages? How can that be good? And yet it is. TV tropes defines a Deus ex Machina as follows: I would argue that the ending of the trilogy meets all three of these requirements. Sazed's taking up the shards was obviously a solution, and it was obviously the only solution to the problem. 2 is perhaps arguable, as Vin previously held some of the power. However, in that case we were clearly shown she couldn't use it to save the world. To me, that means the ending meets all three requirements. The ending to the first book is this somewhat as well, with Vin's newfound ability to draw on the mists. In the same way, the ending to the second book was arguably a diabolis ex machina. However, I believe these worked because in those cases we knew the story wasn't over yet- we knew there was more. Further, in the first book the reveal that TLR was Rashek was cool enough that it made up for the suddenness of Vin's ability to draw on the mists. So, as far as I'm concerned, the ending is a deus ex machina. The real question, to me, is "why don't we care"? Why isn't this a bigger deal. There are eight one-star reviews for the third Mistborn book on Amazon; only one cites the ending as a reason for the rating. Two of the fifteen two-star reviews mention it (there are 396 total reviews of the third book on amazon). So, clearly, while some unfortunately dislike the book, the ending of it doesn't seem to be a major factor. Why not? I think we can name a couple factors. First, the fact that by writing an excellent two previous books, Sanderson has bought the reader's grace. We love the book, and so if the ending is indeed a flaw (and I'm not convinced it is)- well, Sanderson had earned it, frankly. The second is the fact that while the final solution may somewhat come out of thin air (though I admit this is arguable), we do see most of the disparate elements previously. The copperminds, for example. The Lord Ruler's belief that a Terrisman must be the Hero. And of course, even Vin taking up one of the shards temporarily. The burning of Ruin's body is another factor that is part of the solution, and really a thing the whole solution built up towards, so that element makes sense. But even so, none of that makes the ending something we were going to see coming. Another factor that I think can be pointed to is the epigraphs. Looking back on the book, the POV of these is clearly godlike. And for good reason- the speaker is a god. In a way, then, Sanderson has prepped us throughout the book to accept a character who is a god. When Sazed takes the shards, it is less of a surprise and more of a realization of something we've known all along. So those are my thoughts. I think the book is very instructive as to why some endings work and some don't. What do you think?

Sanderson's non-Cosmere works seem to get short shrift among his fans sometimes. It's not hard to see why. Sanderson has constructed this vast, teeming world of secrets and magic, shards and chasing Hoid around the galaxy, and I love it as much as any other fan. Yet for all that, I think I can say this truthfully: The Rithmatist is my favorite Brandon Sanderson book. Favorite? Sure. The Way of Kings is vast and sprawling, a remarkable achievement that I've no doubt is destined to be placed alongside Lord of the Rings and Wheel of Time as classics of fantasy. And it is a wonderful book- make no mistake. But it's just the start of the Stormlight Archive, just the beginning of bigger and better things. It's not like The Rithmatist. Mistborn brings us to world that turns fantasy tropes on their head, gives us the best magic system fantasy's seen in years, and brings ever-increasing stakes to resolution with three twist endings. But it's not like The Rithmatist. Alcatraz is pure humor and a delightful romp, a model I've studied for my own writing. But it's not like The Rithmatist. Why do I like The Rithmatist? There are lots of reasons, of course. I love the setting- steampunk, alternate history, and humankind holding out against an advancing evil. The magic, where chalk and drawings come to life in a fantastical RTS. The expectations turned on their heads- Hardin, you double subverted trope, you. But most of all, I think I like The Rithmatist because of Joel. You see, Joel is a fairly normal kid. He's a smart kid, the kind I like to read about. But he's not magical. In this he differs from most of Sanderson's other protagonists: he has no superhuman powers of his own, and is forced to rely on his wits to save the day. Which he does. Multiple times. Do you know how refreshing it is to see that in fantasy? To see a hero survive by his wits and not his powers? I love that. It's fundamentally the story of an underdog, and of course we love underdogs. But Joel also wants to be a Rithmatist. He wants it more than almost anything. I think most geeks can relate to this- don't we all want to run with Sazed on the walls, to fly with Vin on dropped coins? Isn't that why we read fantasy? But Joel's desire is especially personal to me. You see, I spent most of my early life almost obsessed with the idea of gain superpowers by some means. Magic, mutation, invention, it didn't matter- I just wanted SOMETHING. You might not have guessed it to look at me, but my nine, ten, eleven year old mind was always plotting some way to become something more than human. Puberty seemed like the best way, I thought. That was when the X-men always got there powers. Puberty came and went as expected, and no powers were forthcoming from it. Would you believe that through my teenage years, in some part of me, that desire never died down? It's true. Even as it become less and less likely, that desire never quite vanished. It's really not dead today. All you have to do to is give me a book where someone has an interesting power, and I'll spend hours contemplating life with that power. Days. Thinking about how I'd use it, what I'd fix with it. Normal? I doubt it. But that's me. I think Joel would understand that part of me. I think he'd understand what it means to have some part of you that wants to be something more, some part of you that won't rest until it has had its taste of power. Joel knows about that; he feels it every day. But Joel never lets his sense of desire hinder him. He doesn't let what he can't have wear him down. And more than that, he's not ashamed to let that part of him be. He studies Rithmatics. He loves Rithmatics, even though he knows he'll never have them. Why? Because that's who he wants to be. He's not defined by what others say he has to be, not limited by the strict dreams that everyone else wants to impose on him. No; Joel is his own man, at his core. I sympathize with Joel's frustrations, too. All these people around him, all these people with the gift of Rithmatics, and they never seem to love it, only seem to waste it- that's a feeling I've felt many times. We're given so much, and at times we do so little with it. Sometimes I want to scream; I think Joel would scream with me. And then sometime we're given the chance to get what we've always dreamed of- as Joel was, when he went into the booth in church- and we don't get it. Sometimes we fail. Sometimes our dreams crash and burn and leave us without any pieces to pick up. Life is that way sometimes. Joel would understand. But it's the ending that seals the deal for me. The moment in the tournament where Joel and Melody step into the ring, when their diverse skills come together into a single, sweet note of triumph, where everything that Joel loved becomes the key to his victory in a way he couldn't possibly have expected- that's the real kicker. It's the moment when Joel realizes that he's not a Rithmatist, that maybe he'll never be one- but yet, it's still all right. Because I think that's the real message of The Rithmatist. It's the idea that even if you never have everything you want, you can still have everything you need. It's the triumph of sheer normality in world that seems set against it. It's the victory of the underdog that we all long to see even if it's not the way we expected to see it. It is, in other words, a victory of the finest kind- a victory of the small man, a victory of the normal man. That's what I had to learn growing up. You're never going to be Vin. You're never going to be Sazed. You're a normal human being, and you're going to be a normal human being all your life. And that's okay. There are still triumphs, there are still victories, there are still wonders and gifts for you, too. You're a human being, and that's all it takes. My name is Mike, and I am a normal person, the kind it seems like the world has it out for sometimes. My name is Mike, and I am facing the challenges of life without powers or magic to get me through them. My name is Mike, and as far I'm concerned, it's going to be enough.

This would mean that, in terms of earth weapons, a Shardbarer is effectively invulnerable to small-arms fire. Even your .45 caliber pistol don't have the energy to crack shardplate. Conversely, however, quite a few rifles could crack it at a distance of 200 yards or more- just about anything larger than a .243.

Feruchemy is probably the system I could use in real life with the least disruption. People might start asking me why I wear all that metal, of course... Now, if I could have the full complement of the Lord Ruler's powers...

I have the kindle edition of WoK and can't find this map in it. Could someone post an image?

Here's an idea you may or may not want to run with. There's evidence that in societies where there's an oppressed group, the members of the oppressed group often still adopt the values of society at large, unless there's a source telling them differently. In other words, unless someone specifically taught Silluka differently, it's highly likely that she would share the belief of her society with regard to disabled people- in other words, that she would think herself worthless and without hope/purpose. It's not necessary for her to think sweeping statements about the society as a whole- just thinking about it relation to herself should be enough. I think readers can pick up on it.

One thing to remember is that not all of the land gets the highstorms.

Good piece. The main character is well-drawn and sympathetic, her situation and problems drawn out well. It reminded me a bit of Elantris. About the only problem I could see is the ending was rather abrupt, but it's really just a matter of a few sentences. I will comment that the protagonist's thoughts were very modern. That is, the way she thought of the poor, the downtrodden, etc- in a lot of ways, those are very modern thoughts and ideas. This could possibly be justified, if the magic of the world has allowed philosophy to advance faster than technology, but in some places it felt a lot like a modern woman injected into a fantasy setting. Some examples: Page 5: I'm not sure how believable this is, coming from a girl who's lived on the streets all her life in a society that, as far as I can tell, has yet to reach Enlightenment ideals. Why does she care about reading when apparently nobody else her age does? Page 9 has probably the most glaring example of this: Again, why is she aware of this when apparently nobody else is? Paring a discussion of societal inequality with the word "privilege" brings to mind modern discussions of the subject. I feel like she'd be more worried about herself rather than society at large- how she's going to starve, how she's doomed to be in the streets. And to be fair, she does do this in many places. It's really just in a few where the modern comments come out. But on the whole, well-written and readable. I would be interested in reading a book of this.

This is getting better as it goes on. We're seeing more development of the world and the characters now, and the piece is better for it. Rose shows off her skills, Prince gets some character development, and the world gets fleshed out a bit. It's getting more intriguing now, but the manticore remains the incongruous element. I'm having a bit of difficulty inserting one into what feels almost completely like a standard western in other respects. The search scene was a little awkward, but you probably handled it as best it could be handled. Good to see Rose take a more active hand in matters there, too. Doesn't seem like women are well thought of in this world, given the discussion of the sheepherds. Not a bad or good thing, just an observation. On the whole, I enjoyed this and look forward to more. Minor typo on page 8, I'm pretty sure Prince's aunt taught Rose, not taunt her.

This was a strong and well-written piece, but I believe the ending weakened it substantially. You built up the horror of the situation well- the trap in the game of cards in which there was no escape, the other players dropping off one by one, but when Rick won it almost seemed to come too easily. So it felt a little like the horrible unearthly power wasn't so horrible after all, and became something of a letdown. The ending was also very sudden, without a lot of fanfare or even sweet relief, which probably contributed to that feeling. As a prologue to a longer piece, I think this could work. It's interesting enough to draw me in and make me want to read on. But as a standalone I think it feels like a lot of buildup and very little payoff.

I have to ask- is this the extent of the second and third chapters? They don't have really a complete feel about them- I was left thinking there had to be more. That's not really a bad thing, I suppose. Anything to keep someone reading, right? But it probably wasn't the best kind of feeling to leave someone with all the same. The chapters seemed to end abruptly, I guess. For the writing itself, I'm searching for ways to connect the goings-on with the angel and not seeing them quite yet. I think the thing you may have to deal with here is that you built up expectations with that exciting prologue, and now you have the reader's goodwill for a bit to do other things. The trick is to have something else cool or important or significant happen before that goodwill expires. You'd still have it from me at this point, though, the abrupt ending notwithstanding.

Brute strongmen.

I'm going to do my darndest to have something for Monday.

Historical fantasy always feels odd to me; I know a fair bit about ancient cultures, so the discovery of functional magic in a setting I already feel like I know always tends to send me scrambling. The girl's character seemed strange to me; on the one hand, I felt like a thirteen year old shouldn't act as adult as she did; on the other hand, who can say what kind of experience she's had, given her line of work? But that whole scene felt odd to me, even though I know it really could have happened in the Rome of old. I guess my point is, dealing with a young girl in what's implied to be a sex trade is so fraught with peril that it is bound to be difficult to get right. I wasn't comfortable reading this part. Then again, neither was Verus. Pet peeve of mine: The line where Verus says "storm the gods"- in addition to the anachronism, this idea is incredibly off-base from how the majority of the ancient world seems to have thought about the gods. Further, such sentiments have become something of a fashion in fantasy, so hearing again makes me roll my eyes at something I've seen before. Perhaps more generally, the implied threat in that scene of Verus losing control and then it not happening takes a lot of strength out of it for me. He seems so much like he's going to do it, and the reconsideration may not be necessary- it was already clear to me as the reader that acting agressively was a bad choice. The weakest part was likely at the end, when he meets the family. It just feels like not much has happened, and the chapter ends on a low note. Still, I have to echo what others have said, that you draw Rome very well. I'd say this has good prospects.

I enjoyed this quite a bit. Juxtaposing an angel with multiple murders is an effective device to draw me into the story. I really have very few negative things to say; I think this is well done and am interested in reading more.

I think the biggest issue I see with this piece is a lack of conflict. Yes, we have Rose's quest for the Manticore, but that's really in the background right now, and so far all opposition has been temporary. I wonder if a better beginning for this piece wouldn't be an In Media Res opening- start with Rose in the middle of some important battle or something, and then flashback to what you're doing now. Because I think I understand what you're doing here- you're doing a lot of setup for payoff later. That's fine, but the reader needs reminding that the payoff is eventually going to come. In these situations, I think an In Media Res beginning could be a useful tool, since it means the reader has already seen that conflict is coming, and there is tension in how it will get there. Something to consider, IMO.

My first thoughts as I read this were of other works. "cut flower sound" harkens back to Rothfess, as does the stranger in the bar. The twinkle in the eyes of the man behind the bar made me think of King's Dark Tower novels. Other than that, I have to echo others that not much happened here. Which is a shame- there are tantalizing hints that Elmer is more than he appears. What does it mean, that it looked exactly like his idea of a saloon? Is a time traveler of some sort? Hasn't he seen a saloon before? His speech impediment seemed interesting, too, but that seemed to go away after a while. Is it truly necessary that this chapter end in slumber? That's the biggest thing here. Even a sentence that contains something unusual about Elmer would go a long way towards making this a little more interesting. On the whole, not a bad start, but not the best I've seen.

I think Topomouse is right- part of the point was that, despite being built up as omnipotent boogymen, the Forsaken really weren't all that great at what they did. I think that's pretty clearly expressed in book 4 when Nynaeve bests one of them in a fight in the space of a few minutes. She's shocked that she was actually able to win, since she'd assumed from the stories they'd be so powerful.

You actually do a pretty job with the worldbuilding, getting information to us without it being too much of an infodump. Props for that, it can be pretty hard. Fair warning about the philosophical opening: it doesn't bother me, but I've heard those sort of openings are a turn-off to a lot of people. As for the rest: this chapter tries to do a lot of things. It tries to worldbuild, it tries to introduce a main character, it tries to have action, and it tries to have mystery. That's all quite good, but unfortunately doing all of that well is fairly difficult. The action, especially, needs some revision, I think; it's more or less the meat of the chapter after all. I think one thing that would improve this a lot would be a little more twang and style to the narrator's voice. There are hints of this in places, but mostly he describes what happens in fairly neutral tones. First person narration, by nature, puts a lot more demand on the narrator to perform, and I think him doing so would have helped the action, worldbuilding, and the like. It might have made it flow better and been more entertaining. It would have given us a better picture of the main character.

I was not initially drawn into the story as I read it. Perhaps it would have been different if I had read the intro, but as it stands it was mostly plodding through. I was, however, caught off guard by the mention of nuclear war near the end. Up until that point, I assumed I was reading an alternate history. The revelation that nuclear war is a thing made the idea of an oil crunch make much more sense. So by the end, I was indeed being drawn in by what I thought was a twist. That said, I feel like the trip to get to that payoff could have been a little better, for example tightening up the Dante portion. I'm also not particularly intrigued by either the world or the characters at this point; there hasn't been a real moment when I connected with them. You mention a manticore but show no evidence the world is particularly odd otherwise. Without evidence of other unusual things that happen, the manticore feels out of place. I think this story could be improved by making the town and world a little more different than ours, with some extra hint that the fantastic is factual here. And maybe some action here in the first chapter. Were this the beginning of a book I picked up off a shelf, I would have been intrigued enough by the nuclear war revelation to read a little further, but you would need to quickly grab my attention and show me I should keep reading.

No one moral is likely too, though there are plenty of immoral people in the world. One solution might be to bribe, threaten, recruit,or blackmail all the immoral people who also have nukes.

Depends on if Feruchemical attributes are stored in the spiritual realm and if shardblades cut things there.

Why does it seem unlikely?