Robert Jordan

Yesterday morning I got the news that Robert Jordan passed away. I don’t know if any of the few who check this blog read his epic The Wheel of Time, but it heavily marks my literary world. I was introduced to his series as a freshman in high school, back in 1995, and though I went through bouts of frustration at the lack of apparent motion through the middle books in the series, I continued to read them and continued to be delighted by the world, the characters, and the story Jordan was weaving.

And now the story will be left to the hands of another to complete. I know we will see the end of this grand tale, but will it feel the same? I doubt it.

But how wrong-headed is this? A man has died, leaving behind a family who loves him, and readers who love him not just for the sake of the world he created, yet my thoughts return to the story and how it will end. What a selfish life I lead. The story should be the furthest thing from my mind as I mourn the passing of a giant. For Jordan was a giant. His shadow fell across the entire genre and his works were, no doubt, the inspiration for many writers to try their hand at this beautiful craft—I know he inspired me.

To Harriett and Wilson, my heart goes out to you. I hope and pray that your dear friend and companion has found rest in the arms of his Creator, in whose presence is unending Light.