That effectively concluded the conversation, but it was not the end for me. I could not remember the Bene Gessrit word for their “messiah”. I knew the word meant, “One who could be many places”, but for the life of me I could not make out its translation. It felt shameful. I have read Dune countless of times, but that one word evaded me.
The word Muad’dib kept creeping to my mind. I had to tell myself over and over that it’s not the one. Muad’dib meant desert mouse.
Then I challenged myself to remember that word without searching the Internet or scanning the glossary of terms in Dune. The hint of the word kept creeping up for the next few days but I still could not recall it in full. A few days later, while staring at the cover of Dune a thought began to take shape in my mind. A few seconds later, I remembered the term Lisan al’gaib.
It sounded right, but it felt a bit wrong. I quickly looked at the book glossary and realized my mistake. Lisan al’gaib meant “The Voice from Another World”. It was a Dune term for their messiah, but it was not the Bene Gessrit term. It was a Fremen term.
I kept staring at my Dune collection. I felt the inner workings of my mind reorient itself. It was as if a fog was about to be lifted to reveal a secret. I could make out some details of the word but it was not yet enough. Then I voiced out words that sounded like the Dune messiah.
Hararazak?
Kwaszarark?
Then something clicked in my mind. It felt as if the clouds were finally lifted. The term was finally revealed. It was as clear to me as if I had always known it.
Kwisatz Haderach.
Those were two words. No wonder I had a hard time trying to recall it. I was stuck with trying to find one word, when what I was actually looking for was two words.
Nevertheless, the experience made me realize something. It was not that I finally remembered Kwisatz Haderach. It was the strange but welcome feeling in my mind when it seemed that puzzle pieces seeming to reorient themselves to form one giant picture.
Has my mentat potential finally awakened?!

*Yeah. I’m one big fan of hers.

This is a SPOILER FILLED review. Don’t read if you are offended by spoilers like me.

I just finished Robert Jordan’s and Brandon Sanderson’s The Gathering Storm, and I have one word for it: AWESOME!
Although it can be rightly said that Bran is not RJ, he still delivered a novel fit to be numbered in the epic saga that is the Wheel of Time. RJ will always be THE author of the Wheel of Time. Bran, however, has proven that he is worthy to deliver the voice of RJ to us hopeful fans.
I loved every word of Book 12 of the Wheel of Time. It is one of the few books that have accompanied me till the first signs of sunrise. As I read the book, there were times when I had to force myself away from it knowing that a sleepless night would mean that I would have a hard time comprehending it by day. And now that I got that off my chest. It’s time for the gritty part of my review.
I found one chapter that was really off from the rest of the book. Towards the middle part of the book, Mat and company found a strange village. After following the prompting of the phantom dice in his head, they discover its secret. It turns out that the Pattern snaps in the village every sunset. All hell breaks loose as Mat and company stave off violent mobs of otherwise ordinary townspeople suddenly turned into agile zombies, or what passes off as zombies in Randland.
It was a shameless filler chapter. Other than that, I still think Mat is cool. If only he could drive sense into that bald head of that Seanchean Nine Moons: Tuon.
I was disappointed with the Semirrhage arc. After weeks of grueling her into breaking short of physical torture, Branjordan kills her off! Alright, she did have her moment of glory as she snapped the male a’dam (domination band) on Rand. Even though it was literally a gripping scene, I was left frustrated after that chapter. It’s not because Rand becomes super emo after, it’s just that I wanted to know more about her history and the workings of her mind.
Despite that shocking encounter, there was, however, one redeeming factor for me immediately after that scene. Rand kicking Cadsuane out of his entourage just got me. Don’t get me wrong. I love Cadsuane, but her utter dislike of men just galls me. She needed to learn a lesson. Fortunately, she got that from the father and son duo of Tam and Rand. Get that, old hag!
Then there’s Rand. His pseudo emo style was gnawing at me. He was acting like a teenager recently spurned by his love. He keeps saying, “I must be strong.”
“I must not feel, because I would only get hurt or hurt others if I do.”
“I must be harder than steel. I must be cuendillar.”
He even changes his voice into monotone to fit his new outlook in life. He was too full of himself and his acting that I desperately wanted to shout at him, “For the love of the Light, CUT IT OUT ALREADY!” He did that with a hearty laugh at the end of the book, but not before he breaks his vow against hurting any woman even if she may be the most violent, sadistic, and perverted Darkfriend of all. Oops, there were two women.
Yet Egwene bags the prize on this book. I must admit that I used to hate her. She was the fifth wheel of every group that she belonged to in the book. Her character used to be ordinary and plain. That all changed when she was taken in by the Aiel. I started to liker her then, but grew to love her when she was raised Amyrlin by the rebels.
Light! She was awesome. Breaking no laws but being punished nonetheless; never complaining; never surrendering; changing hearts, minds, and opinions; she was a beacon of hope in the Tower.
Then when the Seanchan raid came my emotions were so mixed that I just couldn’t understand what I was feeling. Egene was vindicated. She rallied the novices, teaching them to Link so that she could hold as much of the Power beyond her forkroot altered system could handle. Then she retrieved a sa’angreal which made her unstoppable, godlike, and impossible. Damane had their a’dams suddenly fall off. Sul’dam burned to ashes as they stood in shock. Raken and to’raken fell from the skies, and she was responsible for all of this.
It came to a point that I wanted to stop because the scenes held too much in them. I wanted to savor every moment of Egwene’s vindication. Yet I could not stop from what was unfolding before me. My emotions were so mixed that I got confused as to what I should be feeling. Should I be angry at the Seanchan, the White tower, or at Elaida? Should I be happy at the vindication of Egwene, at her
competence, or at her power? Should I feel sad about the fate of the captured channelers?
Then I noticed something strange around my eyes. I touched them. My fingers felt a sheen of moisture. Was I really crying? I suddenly laughed at the absurdity of it. I was laughing and crying and being confused all at the same time.
Now there were a lot of other scenes that have struck me in the book, but those were the scenes that I remembered the most. The Gathering Storm was worth the wait of the interim after Knife of Dreams. Though I still mourn the passing of Robert Jordan, I am, however, thankful that Brandon Sanderson has made RJ’s vision alive.
Thank you RJ for creating the world of the Wheel of Time.
Thank you Bran for letting us continue to live in it even though its creator has gone.

In a universe where death has been abolished, and all types of pleasure are available for the asking; what else should humanity do?

So that was what the love story part in the novel was about, and I must say that I didn’t pick the book because of it. I read it for the background setting, and I almost dropped it when the first few pages revealed that Love was the primary theme.
Yet author Robert Shea weaved this book magnificently. It was totally gripping, and the backdrop naturally enfolded the plot. Truth be told, I had only one cheesy moment even though page after page of it was screaming romance. The intricacies of religious clashes held my full attention. It had been so long since such writing affected me.
Four religions clash in the book. Catholicism, which teaches love in the bonds of marriage and clerical celibacy but whose followers and priests disobey. Catharism, which teaches spiritual love but considers the body and the material world as evil. Islam; which tolerates harems and polygamy while at the same time advocating restraint, for the forbidden would be allowable pleasures in Paradise. L’amour courtois, the Religion of Love, which ignores all rules for Love’s sake.
Continuing with the tradition of romance novels, Love triumphs in this book. Yet it is hard won and bought with innumerable deaths for the sake of religion. Cathars are burnt by Catholic inquisitors. Captured crusaders are given the choice to convert or die by Muslim captors. Innocents die as pawns, fit only for sacrifice.
It is a harsh book, but it is one worth reading.

PS After reading the book, I would never look at a priest blessing with the sign of the cross the same way again. People saw it is the sign of oppression and treachery, and by it millions were killed. In a way, I sympathize with the Cathars not because my Protestant predecessors suffered under the same damned Inquisition, but because I believe that freedom of religion and conscience must be honored by every state.

Terry Pratchett, acclaimed fantasy author, is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
Now I’ve only read one of his books but it was a great experience. The the setting of when I read it was great as well as the actual content of the book. Details of the setting may appear in another for a blog post, but the text was nothing short of fantastic. It was humor, satire, and adventure rolled into one. Pratchett’s books are literally out of this world in that it is set in the Discworld and that they offer a different type of reading experience. It is Discordian, and it is FUN.
Yet it would only be a matter of time before that humor and wit would be silenced forever. Alzheimer’s is a degenerative disease characterized by memory loss and loss of cognitive function. There is still no cure for it. Nevertheless, Pratchett proves he still hasn’t lost his humor and wit along with the following words, “I know it’s a very human thing to say ‘Is there anything I can do’, but in this case I would only entertain offers from very high-end experts in brain chemistry.”
From his words, we do not know if he is still hopes for a recovery or he is only tempering the sad event with a joke. But as his works have shown us, the difference between those two doesn’t matter. It’s the laughter that matters.