Wizard's First Rule Quote Series: 02

[pirateygoodness]

I've obtained copies of the entire Sword of Truth series - ie, the series that Legend of the Seeker, the awesome kickass TV show of rad chicks making out and punching shit - is based on. The books seem to be less rad.

I plan to post book excerpts under the cuts, for the purpose of gentle mockery and lighthearted discussion. These will always be posted with warnings - there is, I have been told, some non-con in the books, and that will be warned for extensively, as will anything else I quote that I feel is particularly problematic and/or triggery.

Today's quotes are about Goodkind's ridiculous ways of describing emotion. He. . .is either not very articulate, or has never really done a lot of emoting in his life, because Richard and Kahlan seem to respond to most upsetting life experiences with one of the following: tears, vomiting, or RIGHTEOUS AND UNCONTROLLABLE MURDEROUS RAGE.

Wizard's First Rule, by Terry Goodkind, p108-109, 120-121
Warnings: oh my god the worst fucking writing. Also, anger.

As if in a trance, Richard grasped the hilt and pulled the sword free, the blade making a ringing, metallic sound that hung in the air. Richard had never heard a sword make a sound quite like it. His hand closed tightly around the grip, and in his palm and on his fingers opposite he could feel the bump of the gold wire that spelled out the word Truth on each side of the hilt pressing almost painfully into his flesh. Inexplicably, it felt precisely correct. The weight fit him exactly. He felt as if a part of him was now complete.

From deep within, he felt his anger stir, brought to life, searching direction. He was suddenly aware of the tooth against his chest.

As his rage rose, he felt an awakening power rushing into him from the sword: the twin to his own anger. His own feelings had always seemed independent, whole. This was like having an image in a mirror come to life. It was a terrifying specter. His anger fed on the force from the sword, and in return, the wrath from the sword fed on his anger. Together the twin storms spiraled through him. He felt like a helpless bystander, being dragged along. It was a frightening and at the same time seductive sensation that bordered on violation. Fearful perceptions of his own anger twisted with tantalizing promise. The bewitching emotions rushed headlong though him, seizing his anger, soaring with it. Richard struggled through the rage. He was on the brink of panic. On the brink of abandon.
(p. 108-109) #stupidmetaphors #ridiculousphrases #runonsentences #anger

This is what happens the first time Richard holds the Sword of Truth. We'll ignore the fact that the sword is like a borderline-veiled euphemism for his penis, here - THIS IS RIDICULOUS. Oh my god. And it happens over and over again - every time he picks up the effing sword, which is like once every twenty pages, we have to discuss his rage for at least a half page, IF NOT LONGER.

THIS IS THE REASON THIS BOOK IS EIGHT HUNDRED PAGES. If Richard could chill out just a bit, I swear it'd be half as long.

To contextualize this next quote a bit: Richard has just learned that Darken Rahl was the dude who killed his father, and why his father was killed. (Spoiler alert: torture, powerful magic, etc.) This is his response.

The door that held back his anger, and the wall of reason containing his temper, burned away in a flash of hot desire. A lifetime of rational thinking evaporated before his searing fury. Lucidity became dross in a cauldron of molten need.

Richard reached out to the Sword of Truth, curled his fingers around the scabbard, gripping it tighter and tighter until his knuckles were white. The muscles in his jaw flexed. His breathing came fast and sharp. He saw nothing else of what was around him. The heat of anger surged forth from the sword, not of its own volition, but summoned by the Seeker.

Richard's chest heaved with the burning hurt of his grief at knowing now what had happened to his father, and with that knowledge there was closure, too. Thoughts he had never permitted himself to have became his only desire. Caution and consequence vanished before a flood of lust for vengeance.

In that instance, his only want, his only desire, his only need, was to kill Darken Rahl. Nothing else had any significance.

With his other hand he reached out and seized the hilt of his sword to pull it free. Zedd's hand clamped down over his. The Seeker's eyes snapped up, livid at the interference.

"Richard." Zedd's voice was gentle. "Calm down."

The Seeker, his muscles flexing powerfully, glowered into the other's tranquil eyes. Some part of him, deep in the back of his mind, kept warning him, trying to regain control. He ignored the warning. He bent over the table to the wizard, his teeth gritted.

"I accept the position of Seeker."

"Richard," Zedd said calmly. "It's all right. Relax. Sit down."

The world came rushing back into his mind. He pulled his readiness to kill back a notch, but not his rage. Not only the door, but also the wall that had contained his anger, was gone. Even though the world about him had returned, it was a world seen through different eyes - eyes he had always had, but had been afraid to use: the eyes of a Seeker.

NOT ONLY THE DOOR, BUT ALSO THE WALL. GUYS MY NINTH GRADE ENGLISH TEACHER IS CRYING RIGHT NOW.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FOR FUN. I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY IF YOU THINK THE BOOKS ARE THE BEST THING SINCE SLICED BREAD. JUST KIDDING, ETC ETC.