This book felt more like story without end. What is the deal with science fiction/fantasy that they feel they cannot tell a story in less than a thousand pages? I started this one once before and never got around to reading the other book in the series, Sea Without a Shore. This time I bravely struggled on, mostly because I put my back out a few weeks ago and need to lay down every so often to make the pain go away.
The story itself seemed interesting: a world once had mages and magic, but they had all died out, taking their magic and knowledge with them. The world is now having a sort of industrial revolution, but the secrets of the mages are out there, waiting to fall into the wrong hands. Sounds like it could be good. And the potential goodness kept me going long after the tedium was boring me to tears. It was like listening to someone (usually DH) tell a story but get so caught up in the details of "Was it three years ago or four? I remember it was after we replaced the water heater so it must have been when the storm blew down the big tree limb. Do you remember that storm? We were out of town at the time" and so on and so on until the original story is hard to remember and pay attention to.
World Without End. Sean Russell. Daw. 1995