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my rating |
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|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1416914285
| 9781416914280
| 1416914285
| 4.07
| 2,018,236
| Mar 27, 2007
| Mar 27, 2007
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did not like it
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 16, 2012
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Apr 08, 2014
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Dec 16, 2012
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Hardcover
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| 0375826696
| 9780375826696
| B0042B4JAK
| 3.95
| 1,799,439
| Jun 01, 2002
| Jun 01, 2005
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did not like it
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wow, so i wrote a scathing review of Christopher Paolini's book when i was a very passionate but stupid and embittered seventeen-year-old. i still get
wow, so i wrote a scathing review of Christopher Paolini's book when i was a very passionate but stupid and embittered seventeen-year-old. i still get notifications on this site from people who either loved or hated this review. i do stand by some of what i said, sure. but more than a decade later, here is what i think i was trying to say, but was so burdened by hatred and jealousy to do so. i'll leave the original in tact for posterity's sake, but it's a super unfocused and awful. you've been warned! When I was fourteen, I admired Christopher Paolini out of jealously: publishing a book at the age fifteen, and having it hit the New York Times Bestseller list? Incredible. Basically unheard of. But in retrospect, over a decade later, I have nothing but empathy for the guy. He was a child when he got published, and his clumsy writing reflects that exactly: the work of a somewhat precocious fifteen year old with a thesaurus glued to his palm and a love for fantasy. He got swept up in popularity and an outpouring of love for his first book largely based on the fact that he wrote it at such a young age. But as a result, he never quite had the opportunity to grow organically as a writer beyond that fifteen-year-old boy who struck authorial gold thanks to parents with serious ties to the publishing world, and a ton of luck. This is clear by the way he flounders to find a voice for the rest of his series; his writing becomes less focused, duller, and possibly even more overwrought and overworked. His characters do seem to grow and change over the course of four novels, but that is truly a low bar to set in terms of expectation. Paolini hasn't been able to break away from the world of Alagaesia; like JK Rowling, who too has fallen from many a fan's graces and continues to Tweet her way into obscurity, Paolini doesn't seem to have any stories left to tell. Maybe the world he "created" is a comfort to him, and something he wants to mine for his own personal enjoyment--or maybe because it was a massive cash cow he milked for years and years, and that's all he knows. Regardless, it's sad to see such stagnancy from someone who might have held some talent as a young person, but whose growth was curtailed due to (in my opinion) premature fame. Wish you and your buckets of money all the best, Paolini~ here's the original review, in all it's cringeworthy glory! Right so. I'll just say it: I hate Paolini's work. To my very core. I don't really think it's so much the "he stole from Tolkien/Lucas/Gandhi/God/my dog..," though whoever may say this has a point. Even though he blatantly took ideas from pioneers in their respective fields, that isn't what bothers me the most. When I was fourteen, I admired him out of mere jealously. I was absolutely green with envy that he could publish a book at age fifteen and receive any kind of acclaim. But in retrospect (and nearly vomiting as I attempted to get through a chapter ofEldest,which I failed at miserably), I realized that I had no reason to envy Paolini at all. He doesn't know how to write. String together a vague semblance of a story? Possibly. But at the end of the day, the description is purple, the dialogue is stilted, and the character development is next to non-existent. For starters, has anyone noticed that he is obsessed with stating distances? Something like, "Two feet away stood three troops of fifty, in rows of five, making ten people per row" is a sentence uncannily close to one I read in the actual book itself. This kind of information is superfluous and distracting, taking away from important aspects of a novel such as character development--which, by the way, he integrates next to none of. WhoisEragon? I seem to have forgotten everything about him, other than the fact that he is creepily obsessed with a woman who has no interest in him, he acquires fighting skills incredibly fast (read: Mary Sue red-flag), and only reprehensible villains disagree with him. Basically, he's perfect, and he only gets even more amazing at everything he does. Where is the fun in a character like that? I do, however, remember Murtagh... a little. Probably because he's the only one who changes at all as a character throughout the book, other than the occasional insight into Eragon's personal airplane--I mean, pet dragon--I mean, companion, Saphira. Even her characterization is sacrificed because she's used as a plot device by Paolini rather than fleshed out as an actual character. None of the characters are memorable and the main character is my least favorite character of them all! How are we supposed to root for the main character when he is nothing but an arrogant snot, constantly reaffirming a holier-than-thou attitude to everyone around him? The plot is a cliche hero's journey that has been done before, andbetter,might I add. Where's the appeal in that? Answer: there is none. What left is there to hold in high regard? His world building skills? False. I don't know why he decided that his world of Alagaesia had to have EVERY single climate condition imaginable, but doing so made his world seem juvenile, fake, and forced. Not to mention boring judging by the awful over-description of said world. With regards to the language he "created"? He mostly ripped from old Norse words. He's admitted to it himself. Look,anyonecan string a bunch of letters together and call it a language. But Paolini hasn't a single clue when it comes to linguistics. And hey, I'll admit that I don't either. But I also don't try to create my own languages--that I more or less steal--and claim that I created all by myself. Seriously, Paolini's alleged arrogance (based on interviews I've seen/read) disgusts me. All in all, sure, it's fantastic that he published a book at such a young age, but are we as a society lowering the bar that much as to celebrate mediocrity? The man is now twenty-eight years old and his successive booksEldest,Brisingrand finally,Inheritanceare decidedly much worse than his first book on every front. That he wrotewhen he was fifteen.This is a huge problem in my eyes. Someone so unwilling to grow or change like any other writer should have their title of "writer" stripped from them. It's insulting. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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May 07, 2007
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Paperback
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| 1405219769
| 9781405219761
| 1405219769
| 3.93
| 45,653
| Sep 01, 2004
| May 02, 2005
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did not like it
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Apr 02, 2007
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Paperback
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