Brandon Sanderson is an author known for his deep and complex worldbuilding, so it was only a matter of time before one of his books drifted into my sights. I chose The Way of Kings (WoK) because it’s easily the longest of his non-sequel novels, so we should have plenty to sink our teeth into. It’s a story of war and politics, of magical gemstones and devastating storms, but how does the setting hold up? Only time will tell. And me. Only time and me will tell.
The Good
Unlike certain other fantasy series I could name,* Sanderson was kind enough to give WoK’s setting a name: Roshar. It’s a pretty distinctive place. I won’t soon forget armored knights flying through the air while wielding the fantasy equivalent of lightsabers. But does that make it good? In some cases, yes!
Storm-Evolved Ecosystems
A major feature of Roshar’s unusual ecology is the highstorms. As the name implies, these are powerful storms that originate far out at sea, then sweep across the main continent and nearby islands, battering everything in their paths. Highstorms are common and regular enough to be predicted, but never with perfect accuracy.
These storms are pretty cool on their own, providing some excellent opportunities for environmental conflict when the heroes are caught in them. Sanderson takes it much further, though, showing how life on Roshar has evolved to deal with a world constantly beset by hurricanes. Nearly everything has a hard shell, with most land animals resembling various species of crustacean. When a storm comes, these creatures hunker down and depend on their shells to protect them.
Plants are the same way, with most possessing a hard shell that their leaves, vines, and flowers can retreat into when threatened. It’s like sleeping grass but turned up to 11. This allows for a lot of very cool description, with plants rippling back into their shells as characters pass by. We also see that most animals have specialized into crushing jaws or pincers, since just about everything edible has a hard shell to get through. It’s enough to make you wonder why humans don’t also have shells, but Sanderson has an answer for that: humans are originally from another world, brought to Roshar in the distant past by poorly understood magic.
Speaking of magic, the highstorms also provide Roshar with its main source of magical energy. It’s called Stormlight,* a glowing aurora that permeates highstorms. This Stormlight can be captured in gemstones, which are then used to power the setting’s various magitech devices. Not only is this cool, but it’s also efficient. Since highstorms are already such a noticeable part of the setting, Sanderson doesn’t need to introduce some other source of magic; he just uses what he already has.
Mesa Battlefields
The majority of WoK’s plot takes place on the Shattered Plains, an evocative name for a battlefield where human kingdoms make war against their enemies. These plains are actually thousands of mesas clustered together: high plateaus with deep chasms between them. This is very cool to imagine, but it adds a lot to the story beyond aesthetics.
Most noticeably, Sanderson uses the Shattered Plains to shape how the story’s big war is conducted. Moving soldiers between plateaus is a big challenge, especially in hostile territory where permanent bridges are impossible to maintain. Portable bridges are a huge part of warfare, and the speed with which they can be deployed is often the deciding factor in a battle. Naturally, one of the main characters is a bridgeman, and his hardships provide the story’s most compelling drama.
The chasms between plateaus also provide a cool environment for the protagonists to explore. Most of these chasms run so deep that there’s very little light unless the sun is directly overhead, and the whole place is scattered with the bodies of soldiers who’ve fallen to their deaths from the mesas above. That’s pretty creepy, and there’s the added danger of encountering one of the setting’s many monsters, raising tension considerably whenever a character has to venture down into the dark.
Wartime Economics
The war in WoK is supposedly fought in the name of justice for an assassinated king, but it’s quickly apparent that something else is at play: money. You see, the Shattered Plains are home to a special variety of monster that contains valuable gemstones within its body. These monsters pupate on the mesas,* and in that state they can be easily killed for their valuable innards.
By the time the story starts, the war’s original purpose has mostly given way to battling over these gems. So long as the recovered gems are worth more than the costs in soldiers and material, the ruling princes earn a profit. This is a fascinating way to portray the idea that war is a game the upper classes play to enrich themselves, to everyone else’s detriment. Sanderson makes it a literal aspect of his world and, therefore, much easier to explain than if it were just an abstract political concept.
This idea plays a big role in the story of Kaladin, the bridgeman I mentioned earlier. His main source of conflict is that the ruling princes are happy to let bridgemen be killed by the enemy if it means a better gemstone return. The princes can always find more warm bodies to carry the bridges, and they grow ever richer even as Kaladin’s comrades die around him. The ratios are a bit off, as it’s difficult to believe that any amount of money could replace bridgemen at the rate described, but the concept is incredibly compelling.
Fantasy Lightsabers and Powered Armor
WoK has several different types of magic, but the most common are powerful artifacts called Shards. These come in two forms: Shardblades and Shardplate. The blades are basically lightsabers – weightless weapons that can cut through almost anything without effort. Meanwhile, the plate is a kind of powered armor, both protecting the wearer and enhancing their physical abilities with the energy of Stormlight-infused gemstones.
This kind of tech is common in space-opera scifi settings, but it actually works much better in fantasy. Even the most powerful magic swords can’t compete with modern firearms, so the only way to justify their use is with a healthy dose of handwavium. Powered armor is more believable, but even so, it doesn’t quite make for an unstoppable juggernaut, since anti-tank weapons probably exist.
In a fantasy setting, Sanderson doesn’t need to worry about any of that. Most combat happens at close range anyway, where Shardblades are brutally efficient. And since no one has invented a rocket launcher yet, Shardplate works to its full effect. That doesn’t mean the plate is quite invincible, though, and I really like the way it shows damage: by an ever-increasing number of cracks that leak Stormlight from the armor’s gemstones. The image is cool to imagine, and it gives readers an easy way to keep track of how much trouble a Shardplated character is in.
As a bonus, Sanderson even has a cool answer for the age-old question of why Jedi don’t just briefly turn off their lightsabers to get past an enemy’s guard. Shardblades can be summoned out of the ether at their wielder’s command, which is a lot like turning on a lightsaber, but the process takes about ten heartbeats. Long enough that, in most cases, a Shardbearer wouldn’t want to dismiss their weapon and then resummon it, though Sanderson does show us occasional exceptions.
Intimidating Enemies
The war I keep mentioning is primarily fought between the human country of Alethkar and a fantasy species called the Parshendi. While the Parshendi aren’t always handled well in the plot,* there’s a lot to like about them. Most importantly, they don’t appear to be an inherently evil species. They did murder the human king for mysterious reasons,* but WoK is very clear that, individually, the Parshendi are just as morally varied as humans. That’s admittedly a low bar to clear, but as we’ve seen in past worldbuilding posts, fantasy stories don’t always manage it.
Beyond not being orcs, the Parshendi are well situated to oppose humanity on the Shattered Plains. They’re bigger and stronger than a typical human, which makes them difficult opponents, but their numbers are limited. Battles between humans and Parshendi often come down to large formations of human soldiers taking on small groups of the enemy, which creates a strong contrast. The Parshendi also grow their own armored carapaces and pass commands through song, which is just cool.
But the Parshendi’s most interesting feature is their ability to jump. Across long distances, humans are actually faster, but the Parshendi’s heavily muscled legs allow them to leap dozens of feet at a time. This adds a new dimension to fighting them, literally – they can easily leap over their human enemies for a flanking attack. Such attacks raise the Parshendi’s threat level and also let Sanderson keep his fight scenes dynamic and action-packed.
The Bad
As much as I praise WoK’s worldbuilding, not everything is sunshine and roses. The book just keeps going, revealing more and more new setting elements that should have been left out.
Confusing Timescales
Conceptually speaking, there’s no reason a fantasy world has to use something akin to the Gregorian calendar for measuring time. Practically speaking, most fantasy worlds should anyway, and WoK is a great example of why.
Every unit of time on Roshar is different from what we use in the real world. Days have a different number of hours, weeks have a different number of days, months have a different number of weeks, etc. I honestly couldn’t get any kind of useful conversion rate from reading the book, so I’m depending on fan research instead.
All these unusual timescales do is create confusion. We’re told Kaladin has been a slave for eight months, which is an important plot point. But to figure out how long that actually is, you have to do some complicated math that I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around. As best I can tell, it’s about ten and a half real months, but don’t quote me on that.
At the same time, Rosharan years are a little longer than real-life years, so every character is about two to four years older than their stated ages. This often doesn’t matter, but for the younger characters, it can make a big difference. Roshar also has “seasons” that last anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks, which really don’t sound like seasons anymore. If the temperature rises for a week in March, we don’t call that “summer” except as a joke.
None of these unusual time measurements ever add anything to the story; they’re just confusing. It’s possible Sanderson has plans for them later on, but it’s probably not worth the cost of readers having to Google how old each character is.
Abundant Spirits With Little Impact
One odd facet of Roshar are the spren: magical spirits that seem to come in every form you can imagine. Some spren are themed around nature, like rainspren and rockspren. Others are tied to emotions or abstract concepts, like fearspren and gloryspren. There’s effectively a spren for everything, and they appear when that thing is happening. Mostly. Sometimes Sanderson doesn’t feel like describing the spren, so they don’t appear. The characters talk about it being a mystery why spren appear sometimes and not other times, but it mostly feels arbitrary.
Beyond when they appear, the main problem with spren is that they’ve barely affected the setting, despite being everywhere. Everyone on Roshar is constantly surrounded by glowing magic spirits, and yet human society is almost entirely unchanged. As far as I can find, the only spren-inspired change is that surgeons know to disinfect wounds, as they can see rotspren retreat from antiseptic.
That’s better than nothing, but it’s small potatoes for such an intrusive aspect of the world. It just seems like ever-present supernatural beings should cause more changes than that. Instead, you could take the vast majority of spren out of the story, and nothing on Roshar would change. In later books, we do discover other important types of spren,* but with books as long as this one, that’s a long time to wait.
Arbitrary Magic
It feels very strange to critique a Sanderson book for having arbitrary magic, but here we are nevertheless. The magic in this setting is all over the place, with little rhyme or reason. Shardplate is superstrong armor powered by Stormlight, while Shardblades don’t seem to use Stormlight at all. A third type of artifact called a Soulcaster can use Stormlight to transmute any substance into any other substance, which is a pretty wild expansion of capabilities.
Then we have another kind of magic called Surgebinding. This uses Stormlight but no artifacts. Instead, Surgebinders are people who can use Stormlight to give themselves enhanced strength, fast healing, and also gravity manipulation. This increasingly random set of abilities isn’t helped by terminology like “double Basic Lashing,” which sounds like placeholder text from the alpha test of a video game.
Since this is Brandon Sanderson, I can easily believe that he has a full explanation for how WoK’s magic system works and how the disparate powers are actually part of a greater whole.* But it really doesn’t feel that way in WoK. I can’t look at known magical effects and make any predictions about what future effects might be or how different powers might be used together. It’s effectively arbitrary, whatever Sanderson’s world bible says.
This is far from the worst arbitrary system I’ve seen, as Sanderson at least establishes the different powers before he uses them to resolve major conflicts. But it still feels cobbled together, especially when Surgebinding enters the picture. Why does Stormlight have dominion over biological functions like strength and healing and also over a fundamental force like gravity?
Unchanging Culture
I’ve given WoK a lot of praise for how well Sanderson considers worldbuilding implications for warfare and fight scenes. Unfortunately, he doesn’t pay the same attention to most other aspects of Rosharan culture. In this world of regular highstorms and ever-present spren, human society is still mundanely feudal, just like you’d expect in a less unusual setting. I understand that not every book series can explore the effects of natural disasters to the same extent The Broken Earth does, but Sanderson doesn’t seem interested in trying.
It’s also disappointing how little impact the various magic items have had on the setting. Shardblades and Shardplate are both fairly present, but Soulcasters have a minimal impact. That’s especially weird since, of the three magic items, Soulcasters are by far the most capable. It seems like the power to turn anything into anything else would have far-ranging consequences, but it just doesn’t. Instead, we’re often told about various Soulcasting feats that we’d otherwise have assumed were accomplished through mundane means. Apparently the Alethi army doesn’t need supply lines because it can create food in the field with Soulcasters. That’s neat, but without the explanation, you’d just assume the army had regular supply lines. We’re told about several buildings that were made with Soulcasters, but they look like normal buildings made by carpenters.
Worse, Soulcasters are far from the only magical items that populate Roshar, and the rest are even more ignored. Collectively referred to as fabriels, there are entire schools of engineering devoted to inventing new varieties, but it’s not until quite late in the books that we finally see any evidence of them. For at least half of the story, WoK seems to have a medieval tech level until Sanderson grudgingly shows us enchanted pens that can be used to communicate long-distance. Then we finally get a trickle of other fabriels that can heat rooms or numb pain. These have theoretically been in the world all along; we just haven’t seen them before.
Bizarre Gender Roles
If WoK’s general culture is disappointingly conventional, its gender roles are the opposite: so arbitrary that they don’t seem real. The first thing that really grabs your attention is that despite this being a patriarchal society, men aren’t allowed to read. Anytime a man needs to do research, check his accounts, or consult battlefield reports, he needs a woman there to read for him. That’s just… not how anything works.
In real life, tasks like cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing are often considered unmasculine because there’s an expectation that women will perform them instead. A man doesn’t have to cook if his wife or female relative is preparing all the meals. But this doesn’t apply to reading. In WoK, a man still has to be present for a woman to read to him, so not knowing how to read isn’t saving him any time. In fact, it’s making things much less convenient, as being read to typically takes more time than reading something on your own.
Reading is only the tip of the iceberg, though. The setting has strict gender roles, but they don’t make any sense. Men are warriors and leaders, but women are engineers and scholars. In any rational world, those roles would have a lot of overlap. Since all the weapon engineers are women, they would have a lot of say in how wars are conducted. Since women are the only ones allowed to read and research, they would be important in crafting laws. None of that happens, at least not in this book.
In reality, social stratification primarily exists to benefit those with power at the cost of those without. On Roshar, someone seems to have divided up all the cool jobs by throwing darts at a board.
And, of course, there’s the fact that women’s left hands are considered highly erotic, to the point that they must be covered. Look, what makes certain body parts sexy will vary across cultures, but this is just silly. It especially doesn’t make sense since even upper-class women are all expected to have professions like painting or researching, tasks that are much easier to perform with two uncovered hands. Plus, all the conventionally sexy parts are still considered taboo, which makes this addition feel even more out of place.
Absurd Cultural Values
While the Alethi are generically feudal, they aren’t the only human society on Roshar. Another important culture is the Shin, and oh boy are they a can of worms. We don’t see a whole lot of Shinovar itself, but the main tidbits we learn are that Shin barter by undervaluing their goods and that soldiers are the bottom tier of their society, effectively traded around like slaves.
Trade via undervaluing one’s goods doesn’t seem very practical, but it pales in comparison to the absolute absurdity of oppressed soldiers.* There’s a very simple reason soldiers are never going to form an oppressed underclass: they have all the weapons. Anyone who wants to oppress them can take it up with Mr. Slicey, the anti-oppression greatsword.
While slave soldiers have existed throughout history, they typically had far more power and influence than the type of slavery we envision since, again, they had weapons. They also existed alongside free soldiers, since no actual group of humans would give slaves all the weapons. At the same time, when a society did rely too heavily on slave soldiers, those same soldiers inevitably became a privileged class of their own, as we can see with groups like the Janissaries and the Mamluks.
To get around this problem, Sanderson describes the Shin as being so devoted to their cultural rules that no one ever dares break one. This is personified in the character of Szeth, an assassin banished from Shinovar and forced to kill at his new owner’s command. He claims to hate killing, and he can stop anytime he wants, but his devotion to Shin cultural rules is just too great.
This just isn’t believable, and it even feels a little racist. According to Sanderson, the Shin are supposed to look like white people, but their description makes them sound more like anime characters, with cartoonishly large eyes and short stature. That’s not quite Asian coding, but it comes pretty darned close, and it feels like WoK is trading on the stereotype of Asian cultures being overly rigid and honor bound, regardless of what Sanderson intended.
Contrived Enemies
Earlier, I praised the Parshendi for having a high threat level without dipping into the toxic trope of an inherently evil species, and that’s all still true. However, the Parshendi are seriously lacking in other areas. Over and over again, we see the Parshendi act not as rational beings looking out for their own interests but like video game enemies whose only purpose is to get in the hero’s way.
For example: We’re told that when the war between humans and Parshendi began, the Parshendi didn’t have much experience with large-scale warfare. That’s reasonable, but by the time the story starts, they’ve been at war for six years and they still don’t seem to have learned. Over and over, we see them shoot at Kaladin and the other bridgemen, even though it’s made very clear that doing so doesn’t help them win the battle. They do this because as the protagonist, it’s important for Kaladin to suffer adversity, not because it’s something the Parshendi would actually do in this situation.
Continuing the trend, it’s difficult to guess what the Parshendi’s goal in this war even is. After assassinating the Alethi king, we’re told that the entire Parshendi population hightailed it to the Shattered Plains and just camped out there as the Alethi besieged them for years. The Parshendi don’t try to negotiate, win allies from other human kingdoms, or do anything else that might improve their situation. I guess they’re hoping the Alethi will go away eventually?
A final oddity is that the Parshendi are shown to be honorable and virtuous, but they never make any effort to capture human soldiers alive. Even in scenes where the humans are surrounded and have no hope of victory, the Parshendi never offer terms of surrender. Instead, they force their enemies to fight to the death, which only increases the Parshendi’s own casualties. Of course, the meta reason for this is that if the Parshendi were the kind of enemy you could surrender to, it would be too easy for Kaladin and his bridgemen to escape the mistreatment they get from their own side. They could just walk up to the first Parshendi they see and surrender.
The Parshendi’s only saving grace is that since so much of their motivation is kept mysterious, it’s technically possible that all of their inconsistencies could still be explained. But so much about them is contrived that I find this highly unlikely, and even if I’m wrong, their early appearances will still feel contrived.
What We Can Learn
Here we are, over 300,000 words later, looking at the worldbuilding of Roshar and wondering what it all meant. Obviously it means that we can learn from both Sanderson’s successes and his failures, so that our own stories will be more like Shardblades and less like men not being able to read.
Creative Fight Scenes Are Novel
Speaking of Shardblades, if there’s one thing Sanderson excels at, it’s fresh and novel fight scenes. If your characters ever cross swords in the course of their journey, then WoK offers a useful lesson: use your speculative elements to spice up your fights.
Don’t get me wrong: gritty and realistic fight scenes can be cool too. But if you’re going to add magic, advanced tech, or strange locations to your world, then use them when your characters fight! WoK’s best fight scenes are between Shardbearers, when Sanderson is in his element describing how the blades and plate interact. In contrast, his more mundane fight scenes just aren’t as interesting.
Beyond one-on-one duels, Sanderson also uses speculative elements to enhance warfare in his setting. Fantasy battles can often be somewhat abstract, as it’s hard to visualize important moments when thousands of troops clash on a long front. But by focusing on the bridges and how important they are to get from plateau to plateau, Sanderson gives us a more tangible way to intuit which side is winning.
Novelty Is Best When It Matters
A striking difference between what works and what doesn’t work in WoK’s worldbuilding is whether it actually matters to the story. The highstorms, for example, are vital for understanding the world. Roshar’s environment has evolved around them, and they’re the source of magic. You couldn’t remove them without making big changes to the rest of the setting. They’re also important to the plot, with one character getting caught in the open during a storm and another character receiving strange visions from the storm’s magic.
In contrast, the unusual time measurements and ever-present spren add far less. If you took those out, very little about the story would change. Without rotspren, we’d need another explanation for why doctors know about disinfectant, and there’s one character whose backstory would need to change. She’s a spren herself, but she’s the only one, and it wouldn’t be difficult to give her a less intrusive backstory. Meanwhile, I can’t think of a single thing that would change if we simplified Rosharan timekeeping.
Similarly, the Shattered Plains are critically important for how the Alethi and Parshendi fight their war. Compare that to the magitech fabriels, most of which don’t have any impact on the story until past the halfway point. While both elements have the potential to be cool and interesting, there’s a lot more investment built up in the one that matters more to the story.
The lesson we can all learn is to make the most of what we have. Readers will be far more enthralled by three well-developed speculative elements than six poorly developed ones.
Cultures Aren’t Arbitrary
Many spec-fic authors want to create cool and unique cultures, a desire I sympathize with. We see in this very book how it can be boring to simply recreate medieval feudalism. But in that pursuit, it’s easy to lose track of how a society actually works and start assigning it random traits instead.
That’s how WoK ends up with one culture where men can’t read and another culture where soldiers are oppressed. Those are certainly unusual features, but they’re also very silly. Instead of making Roshar cool and unique, they give it the distinct impression of being bodged together from spare parts.
When creating a fantasy or scifi culture, worldbuilders need to consider why people do the things they do. This can get really complex, but one consistent rule is that those with power get their way. We know that soldiers won’t be oppressed, because they have the martial prowess to resist oppression. We know that men won’t be denied reading in a patriarchal society, because that would be really inconvenient.
The good news is that we have plenty of room for creativity without going to these weird extremes. History provides us with countless examples of unusual societies, but writers can also use the speculative elements of their worlds to build new cultures around. WoK doesn’t do that, but it has all the right conditions to. Sanderson could have explored how the constant threat of highstorms shaped the way humans interact in his setting, but instead he went with arbitrary gender roles.
You Can Just Include Women
While I’m happy to give WoK a hard time for its weird sexism, I don’t think Sanderson had malicious intent when he wrote it. Instead, it seems like he was trying to give women a more active role in his setting while still retaining the social stratification he thought was necessary. WoK even includes a number of sections that talk about the importance of husband-and-wife teams, since the guy can lead soldiers or trade goods and the lady can read records or… paint portraits, I guess, as that’s another of WoK’s “feminine arts.”
The good news is that if you want more women in your fantasy stories, you don’t need to create all these complicated gender roles. You can just craft a world that doesn’t have the sexism we’re so used to in the real world. You can have female engineers without saying that only women are allowed to be engineers. If you want married characters who act as a team, just write them doing that! There’s no need to make one of them unable to read. Relaxing your setting’s gender roles only makes this easier.
The bigotry we see in the real world is not inevitable, and speculative fiction is a great place to explore worlds without it. Don’t be tricked into thinking you have to work within existing prejudices when you’re creating brand-new worlds from scratch!
The Way of Kings doesn’t have the best or the worst worldbuilding of the stories I’ve looked at, but it may have the most worldbuilding. I didn’t even have time to talk about how the weird religion works, mostly because it’s so far in the background that I never formed much of an opinion on it. The consistent pattern is that WoK works when Sanderson is actually using his world for something, and it falls behind when he’s just adding things for the sake of it. That’s true of most books, but it’s especially on display here, where parts of the setting are developed with laser focus while the rest are dropped in at random.
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To be fair, I think soldiers/fighters could be a lower class in a society if there are means of strictly controlling e.g. food production. As in, only alchemists can produce food because [insert magical reason] and therefore they call the shots. Sure, you can keep a sword over an alchemist’s head, but if you do, your next bowl of soup can well be poisoned. And if you just kill them, then you starve, too.
But I recognize this is a niche example crafted specifically for this one gimmick and works only because another class of people has more power than the fighters’ class.
I’m still not sold on that. For one thing, you can’t really force a soldier to fight for you. In a battle, a soldier who is unhappy with their life can simply slip away and desert – either joining the other army or, if that is not possible in this world, simply walk away and find another place to live. You might even get a new faction that way, made up of people who walked away from war and formed their own small parties to survive together.
You can control society through food production in general, but don’t forget it’s not just one soldier. An alchemist poisons a soldier, they’re dead, because another soldier will kill them. There’s more than one alchemist and the others will reconsider poisoning the food. Another way around that would be to have the alchemist eat from the same food first, which means if they still poison it, they’ll die and the soldier will know not to eat it. There also won’t be a world in which alchemy is the only way to get food – how would any kind of sapient species develop alchemy without having access to food? The soldiers could desert and find their own way to grow food.
It is very hard in general to enslave people who wield weapons. ‘Slave soldiers’ in the past were often ‘slaves’ because they were sold to another power, not because they were part of chattel slavery. For instance, several German rulers (from the time when Germany was still ‘the Germanies’ – a loosely-connected group of individual states) sold their soldiers to foreign powers for money to spend (some of them fought on the British side in the War of Independence, hence Sleepy Hollow’s ‘Hessian’ who came from Hessia in Germany).
The world doesn’t have to start with only alchemists making food, but it can get there through a magical catastrophe or even a natural catastrophe. In this world soldiers cannot desert and start their own society. As for alchemists tasting food, I imagine they can make slow workig poison and also an antidote.
And anyway it was a 1-minute example. The point is to never say never because in fantasy it is possible to come up with societies much different to our own and where soldiers are the lowest class in the society. They key is to get the “who has the power?” question right.
“Slave soldiers” were usually a fairly privileged caste of state/private slaves, but there are many cases of common soldiery being cannon fodder conscript fare. Elite troops and officers, however, are different matter.
Good article. I will say as to the dartboard gender roles, I felt like he was mocking our own culture with those a bit, so could have been intentional. As to the left hand? Same thing. In our culture it’s not considered masculine to be a reader, you’re a nerd. And why do we care so much about those roles? I think he was making a statement personally. Same with the safe hand, so many arbitrary rules in our society
Yet, that whole ‘men are not allowed to read’ thing really doesn’t make sense. Neither does the ‘sexy left hand’ one, but that is a different topic.
Cultures above a certain level need some way to write things down and send messages ahead. It is important that those who receive the messages can also read and understand them. If you send an order to a general, it must be carried out quickly. If that general, on account of being a man, first has to find a woman to read it for him and that woman, say, is sleeping or eating or bathing or even giving birth, the order will be carried out later – which could be too late.
Those who can access all knowledge have more power than those who can’t. In this example, the women have more power than the men, which means they would normally also rule – because nobody can be sure that what is read to them is really in the message. A woman could simply change the message to fit with her personal plans.
It makes sense that the more powerful gender keeps access to knowledge to the less powerful one – it doesn’t make sense for rulers to withgo direct access to knowledge and rely on someone else to tell them about it. A man can never write a secret message to someone else (because if you can’t read, you can’t write, either). A man can never be completely certain whether what was read to him is what is in the message. It’s just not something that would last long.
As with arbirtray rules – you will find they usually apply to things which aren’t that important for survival and control of power, but other areas. So, even though I still don’t see how a woman’s left hand is sexy, this I can swallow as some sort of cultural thing. The ‘men aren’t allowed to read’ thing on the other hand would never catch on.
‘keeps access to knowledge FROM the less powerful one’
and
‘for rulers to FOREGO direct access’
Geez, I read this through so often…
I actually agree that the weird gender stuff in the story come off as commentary on the silliness and impracticality of strict gender roles. (Especially given some things that happen in later books.)
However, i didn’t find “structural sexism is dumb” to be an especially hot take, so it just ended up being annoying. I can see how it could possibly open the minds of people who haven’t thought much about it before, though…
One thing I thought while reading would be to make the Parshendi such powerful jumpers that they can jump between plateaus. Like this, humans would be at a disadvantage because they need bridges while the enemy moves easily without them.
This is exactly what happens and is a major strategic problem during the whole war.
They mention the parshendi jumping chasms in the book. I think a few times.
You’re also reading this book during a time where the characters themselves are learning about spren and how things in their world work.
There’s literally an interlude with two ardent studying spren and discovering properties of them.
In later books, you’ll start to see technology being created from this research.
And of course you think a safe hand is silly. I’m sure the people on Roshar would find it extremely weird and terrible that some of our religious cultures cut the foreskin off a child’s sexual organ.
As I said further down, I can just about buy that ‘sexy hand’ thing as something cultural or religious, because it has little influence on power balance, but not the ‘men can’t read’ one, because that has much more influence on power balance than ‘keep that hand covered, girl.’
‘In later books’ is exactly the problem. If an aspect of the world is not important in this book, it shouldn’t play a role in it. Especially in a series that is planned out far in advance (as this one seems to be), you don’t need to drop everything on the reader in the first book. Introduce things as they become important for the story.
You glossed over my whole point of the people in the book learning about spren at the same time as you.
The people don’t know how important the spren are until they learn about them.
Why would we, as readers, need to know everything about spren before it becomes important? Makes no sense at all.
And male ardents can read. Male non ardents use glyphs to “read and write.”
Any man can learn to read, they just view it as a feminine art because of their culture, so they don’t.
First of all, if the spren are not important to the story of the book, they shouldn’t play a role in it. They can play a role as soon as they become important – no matter which book that is in.
Something that gives you access to knowledge and through it to power (because knowledge is power) will never be degraded to ‘feminine art’ and thus not important in any culture. No, men will not disregard reading in a culture in which the written word exists. They will not employ someone to read to them because it is beneath them. Culture simply doesn’t work like this, not when a ‘feminie art’ gives you power. Drawing as a feminine art? Sure. Making music as a feminine art? Certainly. Reading as a feminine art? No way, because reading and writing has a use outside of ‘art.’
Everything isn’t dropped on the reader in this book. However, quite a few hints things to come are. This isn’t overwhelming, it’s useful foreshadowing.
If you look deeper and read on all you negatives will make sense. There’s always another secret
Oh, dear … meta mysteries?
That’s the worst reason for me to read on. If I have to read four books to understand something important from the first, you can be certain I won’t even finish the first one, much less go on.
Well you may not enjoy Brandon Sanderson’s writing then. But personally, I’ve found that he explains enough to not be confusing and keeps enough hidden to be intriguing. I don’t really WANT to know every single fact about a fantasy world when I go into it.
I’m also not sure what you mean by “meta mysteries.” The mysteries in his books seem like regular mysteries to me. For the most part, they are mysteries the characters themselves don’t know the answer to.
Precisely, seeming irrelevant information like the Spren and the fabrials, and their unimportance to the evolution of culture on Roshar eventually takes on enormous importance and forms a huge part of the story. In truth, since we have mostly explored the world through the eye of the characters, many of the things you’d consider unimportant are only unimportant to an individual POV.
It’s still not a good idea to put things which will be important later in the first book and then do nothing with them. Quite some readers, including me, will be put off by that. Others might no longer remember that stuff when it becomes important in another book.
The whole ‘it becomes important later’ thing is not helpful – I’m reading this book and if it gives me so much useless information (from what I can already know), I’m just going to drop it and pick up the next book on my ‘to read’ stack.
But the spren ARE incredibly important to this story. We learn by the end of the book that the powers of surgebinding come directly from the connection between people and spren, a power that was lost in the distant past and is now being rediscovered. Saying the Way of Kings doesn’t need to include spren is kinda like saying Star Wars: A New Hope doesn’t need to mention Jedi or the Force. Just because the concept isn’t fully fleshed out doesn’t mean it’s irrelevant.
Adding to Cay’s point, a lot of readers (myself included) discard information if it’s not readily important, especially if it’s only going to be necessary in a later book.
Agreed! This series is constantly bearing fruit with things coming to fruition throughout the series. What is described as the parshrndi “being like a video game bad guy, just in the way” is unfair and wrong. The storied history and culture of these people’s is constantly being explained. The shin being the first humans on roshar, and therefore looking drastically different explains their xenophobic tendencies, and odd cultural beliefs. I feel that reviewing one Sanderson book without continuing to read the series is not doing it, or yourself justice.
I think reading the first book, especially when it’s this long, should be enough to get a good sense of the worldbuilding. At the very least, it reflects the impression that first-time readers will come away with. “It’s explained later” loses a bit of punch when you’ve already had 300,000 words to clear up the confusion, and even if later books explain these plot elements, that doesn’t change the fact that they seem odd and out of place in the first. Different people have different tolerances for this kind of thing, but it always makes me wary when I’m confused and annoyed by something (when that something has already been longer than the first three Harry Potter books) and someone else tells me secretly it gets good later — especially when “later” means over a million words and counting (considering ten books are planned)! To each their own, but I think this is a valid takeaway whether or not it’s explained later, and it teaches some valuable lessons about worldbuilding regardless.
Journey before destination friend
If the journey is so confusing and frustrating I’m not compelled to continue it, I think that feels worth remarking upon. (Especially since many people are arguing that “destination” — ie, explanations happening later in the series — is so critical.)
Not without knowing the destination.
I find this book incredibly compelling on its own. The next books are also outstanding, but if you didn’t like this one on it’s own, I don’t think there’s anything coming later that’s going to change that. There IS a payoff on virtually everything that is introduced in the WoK, which I appreciate in conjunction with each book having it’s own fantastic story.
I will admit that, while I stand by my other points, at the very least this discussion has made me curious whether the other books improve on any of these points and whether they change. I think the aggravating gender roles thing is my biggest turn-off to reading the series, though a lot of this confusion outlined in the article certainly doesn’t help either.
I think a big part of this is that Brandon Sanderson started this series planning on 10 books. 10 books as long or longer than the first all part of his major Cosmere Epic. Saying that “it becomes important later” is actually a very valid thing to say. I know Brandon also doesn’t recommend that WoK be someone’s first book of his to read, he said in an interview that it is specifically designed to be cryptic and that it’s also odd to have multiple chapters go by before the ‘main character’ is even introduced. It really isn’t the book for everyone, just like there are many LotR haters, A Song of Ice and Fire, Wheel of Time, etc. I’m a big fan of epics. And to me the more the better. I find myself wanting more and more. But not everyone wants that. And that’s okay.
The left hand thing is just… wat. Like yeah different cultures have different taboos, but that just seems so random and out of place. Just the left hand, not the right, so it’s not even about hands in general. And that plus everything else being the same does just feel like darts at a dartboard (and I don’t think it’s coincidence that it’s only women who have this weird random extra “sexy” part… it sure seems like Sanderson wouldn’t have given male characters this kind of thing. It feels gross to me in a way I have trouble articulating, but gross nonetheless.) Maybe it’s explained somewhere, but I have no idea how this kind of ultraspecific erotic focus would happen.
I see some other folks are interpreting it as social commentary, which is interesting. Even if it is, looking at the worldbuilding with gender roles on the whole still doesn’t hold water for me. It’s great to comment on that sort of thing, but constructing a society around commentary about how this kind of thing in the real world doesn’t make sense… still means the society of the novel doesn’t make sense. Especially when arbitrarily dividing up who can read and who can’t, who can do what jobs and who can’t, doesn’t seem like commentary on anything because that’s really not how things work in the real world, where gender roles are part of an intricate system of power and keeping power.
That’s definitely not the case with jobs like engineering, which are very powerful positions, so if it’s supposed to be about how we keep people unfairly confined to predetermined boxes, it’s just ignoring the fact that those boxes and who’s supposed to fill them aren’t a coincidence. Power isn’t arbitrary, and neither are the gender roles in the real world, because they’re all about keeping power from certain groups and maintaining it in others, whereas in this society it just seems scattershot about who can do what, filling very powerful roles on both sides but still confined to them. So it doesn’t seem to be about sexism, really. I’ll grant that I can accept the left hand thing as commentary, though — I can see that.
The gender roles in Alethi society (the group that we see the most of in this book) are closely tied to their religious beliefs. This is not uncommon in the least.
Also, one of the storylines going forward includes individuals who challenge the proscribed gender roles. Hence, I think the books actually address your point – over time there will be individuals who see the value in challenging societal norms and do so, ultimately resulting in changing those norms.
It’s definitely not uncommon for there to be gender roles defined by religion, but defining them this way is certainly not common (and doesn’t exist in any real-world example I can think of, though I’d be happy to hear if people know something about this that I don’t). I mean, religious gender roles follow the system of power I discussed in the comment above — it doesn’t say “we’re going to give both groups powerful positions and no overlap.” It usually does the opposite: give one person all the decision-making ability and control, and leave the other to follow those commands, because a deity said so.
It’s good to hear that later in the series those gender roles are challenged, though. I hope by the end of the series that ridiculous structure has been dismantled.
It seems that the author of this read The Way of Kings as if it were a standalone novel, rather than the first in a series, of which four books are already out. Series never explain everything in the first book, so of course many things feel arbitrary. Brandon included certain things as teasers, some as hints, and others as social commentary. It doesn’t read to me that this article considered any of those possibilities.
The gender roles are a direct commentary on roles in our society without copying and pasting them into another world entirely with different religious influences. The safehand is literally a commentary on how dumb it is to place importance on a part of a body like that (as with ankles in the past, for example.)
That’s not to say that the author doesn’t have a right to these opinions. Having read the other books and thought critically about these points, I think it’s a bit disingenuous to make the point, for example, that things don’t make sense with the magic, without having read the next few books and learned about the magic with the characters as they learn it. Same with the spren, the other side in the war, etc.
First of all, if you read the first of several books and you come away with the idea that there’s just so much presented to you and not explained (that whole ‘it’s explained in latter books’ thing), a lot of people, including me, will simply drop the series and read something else. It’s never a good idea to include things which will only ‘eventually’ become important way ahead. Include them as they become important in a series.
Gender roles still make sense to a degree in a society. They are created through the worth the genders have and how much power each can wield. The men rule, but the women are in control of knowledge (because they can read and the men can’t) – that is very much how you lose control, because knowledge equals power and you as a man have no access to it.
I can (just so) accept that ‘sexy left hand’ thing as a cultural or religious thing. The ‘men can’t read’ thing on the other hand is not something that would have caught on.
I think *enough* is explained by the end of the book to the point that most of the key concepts and storylines are paid off. However, anytime something is being done in multiple parts, it behooves the author to both setup future storylines and leave the reader wanting more.
This article screams “tell me you’ve read one book out of four and stopped without saying you’ve stopped after book one.”
Look, it’s fine to have quibbles, we all do, but I literally couldn’t make it past the “spren don’t matter” section. It shows not only how shallowly the author delved into further books, but I seriously question how much attention they were paying in book one. Syl, dude? Did you just completely skim over every one of her parts?
Unfortunately for all authors, a lot of people will drop a series if a first book leaves so much unexplained and feels so much like random stuff is dropped in their lap.
Yes, the later books will probably explain that stuff, but why put it in the first one? Put into a book what is important for this book, not what will be important two, three, or more books down the line. By the time it will become important, people will have forgotten about it again, especially given that when the first book comes out, it will be months or even years before the next one (and it could be several years before the book where something becomes important).
I can’t help but feel you keep saying “why mention it in book 1” but wouldn’t it be just as weird if he didn’t mention it in book 1 and suddenly in book 3 or 4 there is these ever present Spren and I just didn’t mention them in book 1 so you didn’t know but now they are everywhere and important?
Each book cannot be judged by later books. If they are written well you can do good foreshadowing without being redundant. They should have had importance in the first book that sets up for later books, many authors have set that up and it is usually very rewarding for the reader to see the world grow in this way.
If he wanted the Spren to be prominent later, he should have made them matter earlier even in a lesser way.
If you can’t make book 1 interesting with good pay off many readers have no interest in book 2.
For one, I think the book stands well on its own, even if there are mysteries that aren’t explained. For many fans of Sanderson, myself included, those are greatly appreciated. We like being able to theorize what they mean and why they are there. We’ve also learned that practically NOTHING in a Sanderson novel is done without intention, so it will matter at some point.
The spren are an integral part of the full story and, by their design and nature, permeate the world. Simply having them appear in a later book without previously mentioning their existence would be quite confusing.
Personally, this is one of my favorite authors and books. I both appreciate each individual book as well as the larger collection of knowledge that connects all of them together to tell a much larger story.
I get your points about men not reading and women covering their hands being silly. They are rather odd. you mentioned that they are part of the culture, but didn’t specify that they are part of the religion specifically. And that it is only some people in the world that follow those rules, not all.
I read it as a commentary of how religions can impose ridiculous restrictions on their followers and people follow them without question.
On your points about things like fabrials not being fully explained but mentioned only briefly. I can see your frustration; it definitely made me want to know more about what these things were, but at the same time, the book is already super long and adding those explanations works vere away from the fast paced plot that mainly focused on Kal. They become very important in book 4 when a different character is the main focus. I think it would be pretty weird if they weren’t introduced until book 4 though without having been mentioned in small detail before. It works confuse readers more.
I enjoyed reading your commentary and highly recommend you continue the series.
Part of why the fighting on the Shattered Plains works so well is that it has no clear analogue in real life. Feudal Europe is conspicuously lacking in large deserts and mesa-lands. In fact, to my knowleage, no real-life war has involved that particular combonation of technology and environment. Sanderson has given himself very wide latitude to depict the tactics and whatnot however he wants, because we have no idea how such a war would have played out in reality.
I am reading between the lines in the next part a bit, but not referencing later books all that much.
It is true that Alethi culture would be very unlikely to evolve organicaly, because it explicitly didn’t. Alethi society is, head to toe and stem to stern, modelled after the teachings of The Way Of Kings- not the novel, but the in-world book, it is complicated. The religion, the caste system, the gendery weirdness- all of it is stated, explicitly, in the book, and so it is carried out to the letter without thought or question. Alethi society seems arbitrary because it is, in fact, arbitrary. It was willed into existence from whole cloth by the literal-minded followers of a single man. It would be like if some society read Plato’s Republic and then actually put his ideas into practice exactly as written.
An interesting note on the gendery stuff is the role the Ardent’s play. The Ardent’s (think a monk, a priest, and a secular scholar and/or bookkeeper rolled into one) are considered legal gender-less as far as the law goes. This may be part of the reason the weird arbitrary system survives: It has a built-in release valve for would-be dissidents. Anyone who chafes against their social roles- men who want to learn to read, women who dislike their roles, the lowborn in the caste system, possibly even LGBT people, (Who are mostly absent in the first book), would just join the Ardentia. Opposition to the system would never form into a mass movement, because the system has a built-in mechanism for absorbing and making use of would-be dissidents.
Also interesting to note that the Shin and Alethi are both, in a certain way, honor-obsessed cultures who are simultaneously devoid of honor. Alethi talk big about honor, but Alethkar is a hotbed of intercine strife just coming out of a decade-long civil war, and throw their foot-soldiers into the meat-grinder like it is nothing. They obey the letter of tWoK, but actively trample on the spirit. Likewise, the Shin make a big deal of abhorring violence, yet keep oath-bound fighters like the soldiers and the Truthless, the later of whom they let loose on the rest of the world without a second thought. They only have the luxury of pacifism because others do violence on their behalf. Another faction in a later book, the Honorspren, seem to be riffing on the same theme.
Just for the record, the in-universe Way of Kings book is explicitly not the source of the Alethi’s weird safe hand stuff. That’s apparently from somewhere else, according to Sanderson. https://stormlightarchive.fandom.com/wiki/Safehand
In the novel, the in-universe Way of Kings seems to be more of a manual on leadership that almost no one in the modern age pays attention to. If other weird Alethi stuff comes from that, it isn’t stated. Likewise, the Ardentia are specifically the result of an in-setting war in which the previous religious authority (the Hierocracy) was overthrown.
I think that if you don’t like having to read more down the line to understand things as they are written now, then maybe it’s not so much bad writing as it is just not meant for you. Ultimately, art is not for everyone. Some people, like myself, appreciate this kind of story telling. It’s ok if you don’t like it, but the critique in this article is pretty shallow for a variety of reasons. Mainly because WoK, when compared to the rest of the story, is only the beginning. It doesn’t make sense to critique an entire book based on the first chapter. Why critique the entire series (as far as world building and story continuity goes) based on the first book?
This isn’t a critique of the series, though. This is a critique of the first book… for which you only have to read the first book, just as a critique of the opening chapter is a critique of the opening chapter. It’s not claiming to be about the series. If the worldbuilding in it doesn’t make sense, but is explained later, then it still doesn’t make sense in the first book, and that’s a valid takeaway (especially since it’s what a lot of readers will take away after reading it, whether or not they decide to continue). It’s also a post on what we can learn from WoK, not about the artistic merits of the series as a whole, and there’s a lot to appreciate — as the article does! It seems disingenuous to call it shallow for only being about the first (and massive) instillation and the worldbuilding described there. This is about the worldbuilding in the first book, and that’s what’s being discussed.
I will say that, as I mentioned in a different comment, different people have different tolerances for this kind of thing in terms of whether they’ll read on, and that’s also totally okay.
You SAY it’s about the first book, but the article (and especially the rather inflammatory title) read as though these are series-wide generalizations.
Is the world building in book 1 “lacking” in some ways? Sure, because we are learning about things as the characters do. But wouldn’t most people expect to be left with a LOT of questions after the first book of a 10 book series? I agree with you that there are varying tolerances to that sort of thing, and that’s fine! But perhaps this article would be better couched as “Sanderson falls short on capturing new readers via world-building in The Way of Kings” or something to that effect. You’re seeing visceral reactions because the article title is click-baity and the whole thing isn’t an accurate representation of what you claim the article goal is. My guess is that’s why the original commentor called it shallow – because the supposed goal gets so completely lost.
I’m also very curious about whether the article’s author has read anything else by Sanderson outside of this series. Existing fans who pick up The Stormlight Archives likely expect an ultra slow burn to the unwinding of this story. Obviously plenty of people will have WoK be the first Sanderson book they read, and it very well may turn them off. But I don’t think that’s a failure to world-build…if anything it’s a failure to set expectations. I can appreciate that you’re defending your co-worker (and presumably friend), but as connoisseurs of critique, I hope you’ll read through some of these comments with an open mind as you continue to review and write.
Hello!
I do expect that there’ll be a lot of questions after the first instillation, but with this many loose threads, I think that with as long as this first book is, it could’ve done a better job dealing with them rather than leaving them waving around. That said, I agree that the title would’ve been better suited to focusing on just the first book — and I wonder if that gets at a lot of what people are annoyed about here in the comments, which is mostly regarding not reading the rest of the series.
I definitely know that, from at least one other post off the top of my head, Mistborn has been mentioned, and Sanderson is such a prominent spec fic author that I would suspect there’s more. I’ve actually read Mistborn as well and found it pretty interesting — the distinctive Sanderson magic system really worked for me.
To your last point, I do hope I’ve done a good job of keeping an open mind here as well! My mind has been changed in comment sections before (I didn’t even consider that the hand covering might be commentary!), and I really appreciate good-faith rejections to the article (and to my thoughts on it) like yours. The differing viewpoints have certainly been interesting to read. I suspected this post would be a controversial one from the get-go :)
Oh I wasn’t being disengenuous. I meant it. I think it’s shallow because several of the critiques don’t add up. The Spren not being important? What about the relationship between Syl and Paladin? The gender roles being weird? That’s exactly what most gender roles are. Weird and nonsensical. The magic system not making sense? By the end of the first book it was clear that in order to use magic, you need to speak an oath, and you need stormlight. Stormlight comes from the high storm and it’s captured by gems. Yes there are still mysteries, but the rules up to now DO make sense.
Also, I wasn’t a fan of the ever-so-subtle label of racism towards Sanderson regarding the Shin. Asian coding? I don’t know about you, but when I think of an Asian person, I don’t think slightly bigger eyes or pale skin. Honor culture isn’t unique to Asian cultures either, as European duel culture is a prime example of individuals taking extreme lengths to protect their honor and pride.
Hello again!
The gender roles are “weird and nonsensical” because that’s not how gender roles work, especially not you’re arguing that it’s a commentary about real-life gender roles. In fact, gender roles in real life aren’t arbitrary at all; as I said elsewhere, it’s a very deliberate system of giving power to some and keeping it away from others. It’s no accident they end up this way in real life. In the case of WoK, it’s just flinging the roles all over the place and giving powerful positions to everyone, which misunderstands how gender roles work to begin with or why they’re so prevalent. So it’s in the context of the story that they’re weird and nonsensical: in real life, they serve a distinct purpose of forcing women in to subservient roles, which making all women engineers just… does not parallel at all.
Not sure why you’re bringing up the post’s comment about racism; I didn’t mention that at all.
I didn’t call gender roles arbitrary. I called them weird and nonsensical. That doesn’t exclude them from being bad.
I brought up the article’s comment about racism because it’s one of the many things I find shallow about it. You said I was being disengenuous. I was explaining why I meant it.
Hey, Miles! (this is as far as the comment nesting goes)
Fair enough about your point on disingenuity (is that what it’s called?). Honestly, I also wasn’t sure what to make of the point about potential racism, which is why I haven’t been defending it.
I think we might be in agreement on the gender roles (correct me if I’m wrong). My thoughts on the matter is that if they’re commentary, they’re bad commentary, and even if they’re not (especially if they’re not!), they’re just something that doesn’t make sense in the world, and because of that I do think they’re a bad inclusion to the story. It’s a nonsensical element. I also don’t think that’s a shallow critique to make, since the gender roles seem very prominent in the story. That’s where I stand on it.
Out of curiosity, what other stories would you consider in this vein of storytelling? You mentioned that in your first comment, and now I’m wondering what else qualifies. Curious to see if I’ve read any of them and enjoyed them — might help me see where you’re coming from there.
Replying here since the other comment thread is exhausted.
I don’t know if it’s a real word, but I do like the sound of disengenuity. Flows off the tongue nicely
I would say that we are in agreement on the gender norms with regards to how much substance they add to the story of the first book. In later books they do become more of an issue, but until then, they don’t do much. I think where we disagree is whether or not it’s good commentary. I personally think it is good commentary, but I understand your point about why you think it’s bad. For whatever reason, I didn’t quite grasp what you meant until your last comment. Making them seem arbitrary can be viewed as poor commentary to someone who is legitimately kept down by strict and oppressive gender roles. For that, I will take back that that is a shallow critique.
As far as other stories go that use the same style of story telling (I’m referring to world building over an entire series), the majority of the ones I’ve read have been by Sanderson. The Mistborn, Skyward, and the Reckoners series expound on the world with each book in the series. The Fred the Vampire Accountant series is a more light hearted read by Drew Hayes but follows the same story telling. I’ve seen a few animes too where the story telling is focused on setting up seemingly non-important details that make sense later. Forgive the normie-ness, but Attack on Titan is a fantastic example of that. Lots of little things that raise questions, and by the end of the first season, you have some answers, but even more questions.
Thanks for the pleasant chat so far. It’s been nice to have a good correspondence with someone in a comment section. We need more of that.
Hey, Miles!
Glad we got the gender role confusion cleared up! We can agree to disagree about the commentary; I’ve read some interesting arguments elsewhere in this section about what Sanderson probably intended that to be, and if that’s the case, I can certainly respect the impulse. I can buy that the hand covering was commentary, at least. Was interesting to dive into that.
Of the books you listed, I’ve actually only read Mistborn (book 1, that is), and I found it pretty interesting. I liked the magic system, and from what I can tell, that really seems to be his strong suit. Also the atmosphere; the ash and fog was quite creepy. (It might’ve partially inspired a really convoluted novel thing I wrote back in middle school, called Games of Mist. Clearly no setting elements stolen, haha. May it never see the light of day…)
I didn’t read the rest of the series, I think I actually didn’t realize it was a series at the time. I can appreciate the attractiveness of the storytelling in that book, at least. (I’ve also seen the first episode of Attack on Titan, though I don’t remember much of it. I need to get better at finishing series, clearly!)
I’ve also enjoyed chatting with you; it’s been fun to hear (read?) other folks’ opinions on WoK. Good-faith discourse is always really interesting.
The title “Sanderson Bungled Culture”, is a flawed take but it’s hard to explain why without spoiling the future books.
Problems with the absurdity of gender roles? Future books have characters that directly address the silliness of it or even challenge it with the advent of new cultural shifts due to spoilery and important plot points.
Parshendi being orc-ish and video gamey? That’s the limited perspective of the current narrators in the book. They get more development later.
Issue with the existence for spren? The timeline of it in book 1 has the majority of the world oblivious about the true nature of spren. The nature of science and research applied to a fantasy setting is even the crux of the latest book, where we are still learning about fabrial technology and how spren work.
Also somewhere in the comments someone mentioned that they hated having to read other books for understanding the meta mysteries, which just really highlights how much Sanderson is not the author for them.
One of my favourite things about Sanderson is the meta-ness of the story, especially the Epigraphs that head each chapter and was not even discussed in the article. Hints at past cultures, weird prophetic foreshadowing, and even in a few cases arbitrary ciphers with crytpic messages that fan communities decoded, are all very cool for me.
I feel like there’s be less strong feelings on the article if it was presented more like an opinion and not as indisputable fact. An indisputable fact is that his books are long. That the article takes issue with how he broached the topic of culture is an opinion.
Editor’s note: I’ve removed a comment because of an ableist user name. The content of the comment was fine, so if the commenter would like to try again with a name that isn’t specifically used to mock certain disabled people, I’d probably let it through.
In short, the author and your comment are both off base as I see it. Detail that isn’t immediately addressed in the plot adds to verisimilitude in the sense that it makes things seem real as a strange place. If you go to a location or culture different than your own you may experience a lot of customs, culture, and detail that isn’t understandable in your time there and possibly in your life. That detail makes the place feel and seem alive, which is something that many readers enjoy.
You can have questions never answered and have it add to the quality and immersion of a piece of fiction.
For my previous comment, I would prefer that you just remove my name from it. I think it was better written and a better critique of your critique than this one
I would be interested to see your opinion as the series progresses. Several of your cons focused on a lack of exploration of elements of the world but these continue to get expounded on though the books. Does that lessen your complaints, probably not. But it does change the context and may entice you to keep reading if you know that the author does continue to go deeper.
Interesting points. Do you think an alternate title like Building Way of Kings might work better if if it’s just a critique of that book? Or, would that just make things worse?
On the other hand, if even veteran authors can make these sorts of mistakes in world-building, then I would wonder how beginners can avoid them. It’s something like a minefield trying to figure out what’s best for the story.
It’s an interesting article with some valid criticisms. But is the author not curious about why things are the way they are? Why does everything need an immediate explanation? If Sanderson told you why there was only one spren present in the story right away, for example, it would spoil or otherwise render meaningless significant parts of the story.
It seems Sanderson is very good at writing series and very bad at introducing that series. He seems to have fans who know and expect any pay off of world building to be paid off after reading a massive first book.
That sounds like introducing your beginning very poorly. If you have to read more for the first book to make sense it is probably a poor introduction in the first place.
Fans who stuck with it seem frustrated that non fans read a large book and found it unsatisfying. Each book should be able to make sense on its own. Mystery is one thing, confusing aspects with no reason seems off and does not appeal to a non-fan as good writing.
Make a good first book so non fans have a reason to keep reading.
See, I wouldn’t even say he’s *very* bad, just that his approach has flaws. There’s a lot to like in WoK’s worldbuilding, but it also has problems that a less famous author probably wouldn’t get away with. This is just not something that a lot of fans want to hear.
I’m not an avid Brandon Sanderson reader (have read Elantris, Warbreaker, and the original Mistborn series) but I have watched a lot of his course videos, as he is very clear when he is teaching that what he’s showing are tools to be tried out, and what works for him may not work for anyone else – which is a breath of fresh air among all the differing “rules” you’re “meant” to follow to write well.
The reason I’m bringing it up is because he himself has said that he was only able to write something like the Stormlight series because he was a well-known, trusted author, and he openly acknowledges that privilege.
I’m not sure why people are getting angry at this critique of the first book, when he himself has said the way the series is written is new-reader-unfriendly – it’s a series he always wanted to write, an indulgence. So no-one can be angry if you point out the flaws in that indulgence!
I think most people who are criticizing this article are missing the biggest point. Articles like this aren’t just criticizing works like The Way of Kings in the abstract, they are pointing out what new writers should learn from them.
If you are a prospective writer without an existing fanbase like Sanderson had when he wrote this, you’d never get something like this published because it really does have too much worldbuilding for a single book. Sanderson only got away with it because he was already a well established writer.
Yeah it’s very difficult to plan “be the guy they pick to finish the Wheel of Time” into your career path.
Hey! Long time, first time etc.
I have no love for fantasy sexism, and certainly my major criticism of the series is Sanderson creating a society where wives are required to be secretaries for their husbands, BUT I do want to point out that traditions often do interfere with practicality. Arguably, that is what makes them meaningful in the first place —to be observed, people have to go out of their way to do so. So while the erotic hand thing is pretty goofy, and the inclusion of gender roles are frustrating, I would argue that impractical cultural traditions are essential to nuanced worldbuilding.
Certainly, Sanderson could’ve (and IMO should’ve) chosen traditions that don’t involve a new brand of reductive gender roles (a lot of dudes I know who read this think, somehow, only women reading is a progressive move and I’ve gotten into too many arguments about it), but the in-world irrationality of it, as written, is not a worldbuilding technical oversight.
So the thing to understand is that while gender roles and other prejudiced social rules can seem irrational, they usually make great sense when you look at them through the lens of “how does this benefit the powerful?” With the division of labor in particular, it is of great benefit to men that women be the ones tasked with cooking and cleaning, since that’s a lot of time consuming work than men don’t have to do. Of course, these rules can backfire or have unintended consequences. In the real world, for example, the fact that fewer women are interested in maintain that division of labor has left a lot of men without a clue of how to take care of themselves. But the initial roles clearly have a benefit for dudes.
And here my only nitpick is that I think feudalism seems like an excellent way for Shattered Plains society to be organized. In a world that can’t support a lot of infrastructure or bureaucracy — say, a vast desert wracked by destructive storms — the only way to control large amounts of territory would be to get a bunch of far-flung vassals to swear fealty to you. As long as their taxes and soldier levies arrive in a timely manner, you can leave your vassals to manage their own affairs. But then I realized that you’re using “feudal” to mean “the kind of tech level and aesthetics we associate with medieval Europe,” not a particular way in which society can be organized. But then I did some Googling and realized that “feudalism” is a fuzzy idea to begin with. A lot of historians question whether it’s even a useful concept in medieval European studies, let alone when talking about societies in other times and places (e.g. “feudal Japan.”) So … you’ve given me a lot to think about, I guess!
In a broader sense, “feudalism” is used to mean something like “decentralization without democracy”, although it’s certainly a very broad one.
“That doesn’t mean the plate is quite invincible, though, and I really like the way it shows damage: by an ever-increasing number of cracks that leak Stormlight from the armor’s gemstones. The image is cool to imagine, and it gives readers an easy way to keep track of how much trouble a Shardplated character is in.”
That’s an interesting take to me. I had the exact opposite reaction to it.
So my only contact with The Way of Kings was through a teaser fragment at the end of another Sanderson book I read (either Elantris or Mistborn). It was about a guy infiltrating some fortress to assassinate some other guy (in this power armor).
I was already a bit wary about how Sanderson’s magic systems, though delightfully rational, can feel a bit game’y at times. And then the teaser just kind of broke my spirit. It read to me like a fragment of a video game level where the protag throws some minions around with his Half-Life 2 physics engine gun (“double basic lashing” my ass), then strikes the boss three times in his weak point while keeping an eye on his health bar to know exactly how many blows he has yet to make.
I just completely lost interest in his books after that.
But I’ve been wondering since then if maybe I was too harsh on him. Maybe I lost on some quality high fantasy literature because of one stupid decision by a marketing staff (that a fight scene with no context and a lot of jargon is a good way to advertise a book).
Now, reading your articles, I can finally say with confidence… Eh, maybe?
The silliness seems to run deeper than unfortunate power naming, but there’s probably still a lot of good stuff in there.
But anyway, I just find it funny that Sanderson lost me as a reader not because of the myriad of issues described here (though I can say any of them would be grating to me) but on one small thing mentioned here in passing on the good side.
That intro is definitely bad, and the surge binding (double basic lashing magic) is a major problem in the story. The terminology indeed makes it feel very video gamey, along with the way it doesn’t seem to fit in the world at all. It’s also one of those prologues that throws a bucketload of action at us without any reason for us to care, which is not a good way to begin. I suspect that the plate-cracks wouldn’t have seemed like a problem if the rest of the prologue was better written, but I can’t be sure.
Uh, that intro is what sold me on reading the book at all. Just saying. I reread WoK since tjen and still loved the intro.
It’s hard to tell if you’ve read all the books or not. You occasionally reference the later books in passing, but so many of your questions and complaints were addressed and resolved in them that I doubt it.
Your issue with the time are a bit absurd. We know that their time is longer than ours, so how long was Kaladin a slave? In our time longer than eight months. You don’t need to know down to the second how long Kaladin was a slave. For characters all you really need to know is that everyone is a little older if we used our time.
You’re complaint about the magic could be solved if you just continue to read the series instead of wondering why the book isn’t answering every single on of your questions. The way shardblades and plate work is one of the mysterious of the story and you’re just complaining Sanderson didn’t just give his notes. You cannot talk about a mystery not being explained as an issue when you haven’t read the whole series.
The fact that you call spren unimportant shows how little you understand about the story and magic system. You are not in a position to talk about why the spren do or don’t appear because you’ve only read the first book. You can say: I am curious to see if the later book entries explain spren behavior. But saying that Sanderson just couldn’t be bothered is disingenuous at best.
Soul Casters are explained! Hey bridgemen! Go gather rocks so that the soul casters can turn them to grain. They aren’t too accurate so they need big chucks of rock. And again you would’ve learned more had you kept reading my god.
You are not in a postion to talk about the importance of fabrials being ignored when YOU HAVEN”T READ THE 4th BOOK.
Women are not the only one allowed to read and research. There is an interlude with a man doing research with a women because ardents are allowed to research and read as they wish. Women were oppressed during ww1 and ww2 yet in both wars they were the manufactures feeding the war. Gender roles are not a simple line that goes straight down the middle to begin with. However there are lines. If you noticed there are no women high princes. At the end of the book Dalinar tells Elhokar to have his scribes draft a law and it happens. I’m sorry we dont get to see every step of the law making practice in Alethkar.
Do you have any idea how many people are sexually attracted to feet? Do you know how many weird fetishes’ exist in the our world? People find SCAT sexy. So no I would not consider a society that found hands erotic silly.
It is stated that warriors are treated “..kind of like slaves…” not that they are slaves. They get traded between houses but it is never implied that they are treated poorly. Then you have to account for the honor blades Szeth’s people hold and that we don’t truly know how their culture works because Szeth’s book is the 5th which has not been released yet.
Szeth’s people are not all as honorable as he is. The story focuses on honorable people because that’s one of the main themes of the series. His people lied when they named him truthless and Nale considers him extremely honorable, not that his people are honorable but that he is. Nale knows of Szeth people and does not hold them as a whole in the same regard as Szeth.
The parshendi simply do not have the man power to fight like the Alethi do. It is even mentioned that before they use to do fairly effective raids. But they stopped because there are so few of them left. In all honesty your issue that they just don’t adapt to a type of warfare their people have never participated in sounds like the people asking why there’s a chip shortage even though we have the materials and ability to manufacture them. Once again, had you read the next book you would’ve learned a lot about how the Parshendi were tying to adapt to the war. They shoot at the bridges because they want to avoid conflict all together. They are stalling simply trying to get the gem heart and leave because they understand humans have the numbers they cannot afford to lose. Once again had you kept reading you would’ve learned why the Parshendi don’t take prisoner and why they don’t surrender, its because Sadeas is a bastard. This is of course ignoring one fact, how are they suppose to take these prisoners when they don’t use bridges??????????????????????????????????? How his Kaladin suppose to surrender to them that doesn’t make any sense??? Charge across the on-going battle and start asking the nearest Parshendi currently fighting for their life to take them as hostages??
This entire post has made me frustrated dear lord. You have some good points, mainly the shin soldiers thing, but they fail if Sanderson address them in the 5th book. If he doesn’t then you can say hey this doesn’t make too much sense and I’ll just say yeah and move on.
“…As for music being feminine, it’s interesting that the woman who wrote that treatise–the one you all practically worship in Alethkar–decided that all of the feminine tasks involve sitting around having fun while all the masculine ones involve finding someone to stick a spear in you. Telling, eh?”
“You have some good points, mainly the shin soldiers thing, but they fail if Sanderson address them in the 5th book. If he doesn’t then you can say hey this doesn’t make too much sense and I’ll just say yeah and move on.”
I know you say this as an objection to the article, but honestly I feel like this is a good example of why “it gets explained later” isn’t a reasonable excuse when addressing things that are confusing in the first book. It doesn’t change the fact that they’re confusing. Lots of readers won’t trust that these things will be made clear at a vague “later” date, or will be too frustrated to keep reading and find out. Again people have different tolerances for this, it’s somewhat a personal thing etc etc (see my comments above), and Sanderson can get away with a lot more of this because he has an established fanbase that’s patient enough to trust him on matters like these.
This article is focused on the first book in the series (though I’ll grant that the title makes that annoyingly ambiguous) and these are legit takeaways from reading that book. In fact, that’s kind of what you’re saying with “they fail if Sanderson address them in the 5th book”! You’re essentially claiming that criticism of the book (it’s confusing, parts are convoluted, parts don’t make sense) is valid — until the author explains the confusing thing at a vague future date, at which point the criticism is invalidated. But that misses the point: the original material is still confusing. People will still read it and be confused. The fact that it comes up later doesn’t make them less confused while reading it — and the fact that you’re confused about the shin soldiers now demonstrates that. You have a criticism about the book, and it’s a good criticism! At this point in the series, the shin soldiers don’t make sense. You don’t have to burden your criticism with a caveat about potential future explanation. You can just say it’s confusing.
And that, essentially, is what the article is doing: discussing what confusions readers are left with after reading this book, the first book.
Stormlight Archive was the first series I ever read by Sanderson and I never felt confused just curious.
I guess all mystery stories are just bad until the very end of the book. If they have multiple books in a series well I cant read that I’ll get confused!
That’s just not a valid criticism on the book. The point you make about the writing is far more valid than anything else.
But then again educated men have have Glyphs so its not that solid either. You want to book to do everything at once and the author wants to take his time.
Hello!
Like I said, different people have different tolerances. It’s great that you were curious rather than confused, but that doesn’t mean other people will feel the same way, and if there are elements that are highly likely to make someone confused (weird time systems, hand fetishism, weird gender roles), those are worth examining. This is an educational post, after all.
When I make this argument, I notice people often try to conflate mystery and confusion, and that annoys me a lot. I’m not talking about the mystery genre — that’s usually what people use as an example, and it feels disingenuous because the mystery genre has very clear expectations about how stories will unfold. Usually the lack of clarity as a point of intrigue is the whole focus of the story. Who did it? What does it mean? Why? These are the central questions to the narrative, and lack of knowledge can generate suspense, because the story is about not knowing everything.
However, in WoK, it seems like that lack of knowledge applies to the world, not the story. Many of the “mystery” elements are tangential and confusing, and not unclear to the benefit of the story. And, honestly, you can argue that Sanderson is “taking his time,” but he has to be going pretty dang slow if he can’t clarify some of these things in 300,000 words (or over a million words for the series thus far!).
Again, this is discussing the first book. (I’m not sure why you’re bringing up glyphs? I never mentioned that in my comment. To be clear, I’m not the author of the article.) It is a valid criticism of the book to say that elements of it are confusing. It’s not an article about the series.
For what it’s worth, I’ve also read other Sanderson books and enjoyed them. I think he has a lot of strengths. I think he also has a lot of clout, whether or not you’ve read his books before, as a popular and well-known author, and so readers have a lot of trust that he’ll clarify things down the line. New authors won’t have this luxury, and “be popular already” isn’t good advice. This is an article on what can be learned from both what is and isn’t confusing in WoK.
As a side note, I don’t think the hand thing is akin to a foot fetish, scat play, or other non-mainstream sexual interests, precisely because in this society, it is mainstream. Women are expected to cover it up, whereas I’m not gonna stop wearing sandals just because someone might be attracted to my feet. I think the reason people are finding it so weird to read about is because it IS unusual, but it’s not being treated as unusual in the book. For the record, though, I can appreciate it as potential commentary on the things that ARE sexualized in mainstream culture — though I’d appreciate it more if he contrasted it with desexualizing something that our society considers taboo in addition to making a new taboo.
Why didn’t the almighty give us tools instead of weapons?
Why did the Parshendi assassinate Gavilar? “…that makes no sense…”
Why is Syl following Kaladin and why is she so much more intelligent?
Why does Syl give Kaladin powers? What are the extent of his powers?
Why don’t Bridgeman get shields?
Who are the void bringers?
Who is forcing Szeth to kill off royals?
Why is Dalinar having visions?
Who cut Elhokar’s saddle?
Mystery is baked into the book. These are questions we ask and get answers to, some even get answered by the end of the book. I don’t think you’re going to understand this but I’m going to reference Bleach because its the most apt way to show what I mean.
When White tells Ichigo he’s Zangetsu we don’t understand what he means till hundreds of chapters later. This would confuse people so to avoid that you’d just have us skip the build up and have White begin explaining everything.
“Well you see a million years ago the realms…” that’s not how story telling works. You write in questions and you answer them. With a long series you have more wiggle room with when you give said answers. The story and the world are connected you cant just separate them like that.
For me is feels like you’re just conflating mystery with confusion.
Hello again! (this is as far as nesting goes)
I feel like this goes back to expectations of the genre. In fantasy, there’s not an expectation that facets of the world are even going to be examined, which means that it’s likelier to turn some people off if parts of the world are confusing. I’m not saying everything has to be explained right away, but the patience readers will have for this really varies (see below). I understand that storytelling is all about questions; what I’m saying is that there’s a fine line to walk there, and in a post about walking that line, it makes sense to examine points of confusion that arise after reading the first book.
Yeah, I don’t know Bleach at all. And, honestly, I’m not even talking about WoK in specific anymore — more so bigger theoretical concepts.
I think there’s an interesting discussion here to be had about “good” mystery and “bad” mystery (if we can call it that… I think that’s basically the same as confusion) — ie, questions that draw readers in versus those that throw readers out — but that’s a matter bigger than WoK. Basically whether readers have the patience to get the questions answered is worth looking at, especially when the first book is the thing that determines if you want to read the rest of the series.
I think it’s a big trust thing: trust in the author, trust in the genre, trust in the story. Hence why mileage varies. And clearly readers trust Sanderson, because he’s established his storytelling chops (and clearly there’s a lot to like about the series), but new writers wouldn’t have that luxury, and introducing these dissonant elements with such a long, slooooow burn, is not going to earn trust.
I’ll grant that I was being too simplistic by separating story and world; I think I was trying to establish the big differences between mystery and other genres in broad strokes, but I think I oversimiplified.
I think a setting that mandates that all writting must be read aloud would ban the secrecy alltogether, bad idea in war times. It also allow the enemy to send messages around without worrying about decyphering, as only men are warriors.
Any chance Gardens of the Moon is in the queue for this treatment?
Malazan is one of my favorite series, but Gardens of the Moon is kind of controversial even in the fandom. Some say that it is needlessly obtuse, others that the ‘explain nothing, trust the audiences inteligence’ is a more economic approach. I would be interested in your take, given how love-it-or-hate-it Malazan is.
My opinion: A while back I saw a meme floating around. Someone had photo-shopped the title to “What in the blue fuck did I just read”. And that is a fair assessment, though the approach has it’s charms.
It’s admittedly difficult to do a worldbuilding critique on a book that doesn’t explain any of its worldbuilding, which is one of the reasons I bounced hard off Gardens of the Moon. I might give it another try some day though.
Well this was a hot mess. Like, you could replace every single complaint you made with “I only read one book’s worth of plot, so it is bad”. This review is the equivalent of reading The Fellowship of the Ring and then saying “this is bad because they never destroyed the ring. Also, why are Hobbits short? That makes no sense.”
Like, did you understand that this is a 10 book series before you write this? All of your bad points could be addressed by reading the next few books.
This is an unfair comparison and is a false equivalency. Tolkien was able to craft the entirety of LOTR in less words than Sanderson’s first two books. An IP that has generated nearly 4 billion dollars. Sanderson can take his time if he wants, but at nearly 400k words in one book, I could be finishing the Two Towers and enjoy far better world building and character interaction and development. The criticisms are fair and stand.
I guess there’s two types of gripes you can have with worldbuilding, namely they way the world is introduced and the elements of the world itself.
TWoK is definitely not easy to get into. The book starts with what? Three prologue chapters? I’m also not a fun of the Lashing terminology. I think Sanderson was trying to reproduce his success with his naming convention in Mistborn, but, for me, it doesn’t work so well.
The majority of complaints as to the use of worldbuilding in this article seems to boil down to the question whether worldbuilding needs foreshadowing or not. Do you need to mention something that doesn’t play a huge part in the story in the first book?
I would say yes, as Sanderson tends to write books where the origin of the shape of the world IS one of the major plot points. Introducing elements later, when the resolution is in the same book, for me, would look like the author didn’t have a plan when writing the series.
As for the elements of the world themselves: religious dictates often don’t make sense (or at least not without realizing their historic context). I mean, showing an ankle was considered taboo once. Catholics don’t eat meat on Fridays (and that’s due to an edict from a religious body from a few hundred years ago).
Roshar is predominantly settled by people with Asian-like fenotypes and is a host to a variety of cultures, while Shin are described as being white (the round eyes description is due to them not having epicanthal folds).
I do understand the argument about the worldbuilding being potentially confusing for a new reader (and that it requires trust in the author), that’s why I never recommend Way of Kings as a first Sanderson book.
My explanation for the whole thing is that the gem-gut beast is the larval state of the Parshendi. Probably because they don’t know how human psychology works, they decided that the king was the one who was ordering the hunts, so they cut it short by killing him. Then they moved to the plateaus because they want to prevent the humans from any further kills.
If this isn’t the case a book or two later, then I’d be very surprised.
I think this is probably the most frustrating criticism I’ve read. Your offhand comment about the Shin description being racist; how in the world did you conclude that? I mean, you explained your reasoning. The Shin are described by Alethi as having “Cartoonishly” large eyes because the Alethi themselves are described to have more Asian features, including epicanthic folds and slimmer eyes. The environment and food of their country are similar to that of largely European areas on Earth. Therefore; White. Your point about soldiers being unable to face oppression because they have weapons was a little funny to me, as well.
Aside from that, your criticism of the world building is slightly over-confident in the approach. You talk about concepts you struggled to understand, such as the religion, the purpose of the spren within the plot, the usage of Parshendi, and the strange cultural norms. The most contradictory point was when you explained away a cultural attribute as arbitrary, and then later expressed how unable you were to pay attention to the religion. Did you not, clearly, connect between the culture and religion of Roshar? Jasnah spends many monologues discrediting her own culture as religious frivolity. I think it’s slightly ignorant to claim the world-building lacked foundation when the foundation was given, and you brushed it off as background information. It’s generally the default that religion would have a large impact on culture and gender norms, in Vorinism its seen through separate denominations and how they treat the concept of a Calling.
A large reason for women taking to scholarship and men being dissuaded from passive or intellectual occupations is because of, like in real life, their physicality. The physicality if men makes them more suited for praised occupations like farming and fighting; these occupations are glorified through religion. A mans most honorable Calling is Dueling or whatnot, as the Almighty requires soldiers in the afterlife. To enforce this hierarchy of Calling, women were given the passive occupations. That’s my perception, at least. Moving on,
Your criticism of the magic is valid, but I never noticed the examples you brought up. The inclusion of a Spanreed was implemented when relevant; a character needed to use one, so they did. The inclusion of different fabrials were placed appropriately amongst the wealthy or comfortable narrative, one that Book 1 of TWoK didn’t really explore. The fabrials introduced by Navani’s presence was because, well, Navani was present.
You highlighted your distaste for series that leave you with unanswered questions by the end of one book, and claimed you’d never read the later books if you couldn’t understand key concept in the first one. Many readers of TWoK thoroughly enjoyed and understood many key concepts in the book, including concepts you (again) brushed off as unnecessary or irrelevant to the plot. Including the spren? Which was one of your weirdest points, in my opinion. The spren are relevant and are explained by Jasnah as a natural progression of two intermingled realities; not to mention the Surebinding spren.