Recently, I finished reading the last book in the Wheel of Time series. While walking home, I saw a copy of the book in a Free Library on my street and picked it up. I was reminded that I hadn’t yet finished the last book, and felt an immediate compulsion to do so.
I read the first book over 18 years ago, while on a student exchange in Japan. The book was a gift, and I brought it with me across the ocean tucked in my luggage. Doing so was costly, as I had to give up precious clothing space. Being 16 and on my own in Japan had a profound effect on me, and so did the first book of the series, The Eye of The World.
The story is an epic high fantasy with hundreds of characters, different cultures, unique creatures, and a world incredibly rich in details. The books have over 10,000 pages in total, containing more that 4 million words. The first book was published in 1990 but sadly the author didn’t live to finish the series. Robert Jordan died in 2007, but left an extensive set of notes so the books could be finished.
Knowing the themes as well as I do, his death fits oddly well with his writings. Below is the first paragraph of the first book:
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, and Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of time.
But it was a beginning.
The Wheel of Time deals with cycles. Death and rebirth, the balance of light and dark, the internal struggle we all deal with day to day. The theme of a beginning rather than the beginning is pervasive and repeated over and over.
I’m still trying to parse the final words of the series:
There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the tuning of the Wheel of Time.
But it was an ending.
In 4 million words, this was the first time an ending was explicitly mentioned. On the last sentence, on the last page, of the last book with the author long dead.
When I think about that, I’m filled with loss and hope at the same time. It seems to me this is exactly what the author was trying to convey the entire time.