I loved the first few books in this series - they were well written, well imagined, and populated with very distinct characters.
Like most fantasy readers, I love getting lost in another world, so I even appreciated their vast size.
But then I came to a terrible and boring one. I think it was number five or six? It seemed that the plot required all of the characters to move to new locations, so there was a whole book of people travelling around the landscape. All they did was ride horses, camp, and feel great angst. For 800 pages.
At that point, I gave up on them.
But when I was on a beach holiday a few years later, I saw the next volume at the second hand store. I had time to kill, so I grabbed it, and it was pleased to find the plot had gained momentum again.
I read the next half dozen volumes in much the same way, just casually. Then I heard that Robert Jordan had died, and his wife had picked another author to take up the reins.
