A final page was turned...
This morning I head the sad news that one of my all-time favourite authors, David Eddings, had died aged 77.
I first discovered Pawn of Prophecy, first book of The Belgariad, thanks to it being the only book in the sci-fi/fantasy section of the bookshop to be anything other than a primary colour (most likely red, *maybe* yellow if it was being 'different) with a black spine. It was a bright shining lavender, and it stood out like a sore thumb. Nowadays book colours are all over the place so the Eddings books no longer stand out for being different, but back then it was the only one. Pawn of Prophecy started slowly, and even by it's end had not really sped up much, but I was hooked and had to wait for the next one to arrive, searching the shelves each month in the hope that this would be the one. Ten years later the Belgariad was finished, and the pace of the books had grown from the gentle start to a frenetic whirlwind of battle spanning an entire world that even today leaves me breathless as the final page is turned.
I have read thousands of books over the years, but few have left such a mark, or been re-read with such regularity. The joy those books bring are a legacy that anyone would rightly be proud of. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's an old white-bearded tramp who's saying that he needs some help recovering a glowing blue stone...
I first discovered Pawn of Prophecy, first book of The Belgariad, thanks to it being the only book in the sci-fi/fantasy section of the bookshop to be anything other than a primary colour (most likely red, *maybe* yellow if it was being 'different) with a black spine. It was a bright shining lavender, and it stood out like a sore thumb. Nowadays book colours are all over the place so the Eddings books no longer stand out for being different, but back then it was the only one. Pawn of Prophecy started slowly, and even by it's end had not really sped up much, but I was hooked and had to wait for the next one to arrive, searching the shelves each month in the hope that this would be the one. Ten years later the Belgariad was finished, and the pace of the books had grown from the gentle start to a frenetic whirlwind of battle spanning an entire world that even today leaves me breathless as the final page is turned.
I have read thousands of books over the years, but few have left such a mark, or been re-read with such regularity. The joy those books bring are a legacy that anyone would rightly be proud of. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's an old white-bearded tramp who's saying that he needs some help recovering a glowing blue stone...