When I first picked up Eragon in Chennai, some 2 years ago, it was out of bland curiosity. I was totally addicted to fantasy fiction then. A vacuum had set in after a heady consumption of LOTR, Silmarillion, Hobbit, HP, Narnia and stuff like that- both as books and movies. The sudden lull once LOTR ended left me craving for magic, improbably mouthed vocabulary, flying monsters and glittering swords. It didn’t help that I was in a place where I couldn’t even have hoped of getting my hands on HP6 nor get to watch HP5. I was devastated.

I tried filling the void by immersing myself into the now-well-thumbed LOTR again and again. My bike became shadowfax, my phone stylus was my wand. Gandalf was brandishing his Glamdring in my desktop, my passwords sang about Legolos’s skills, ringtones sounded eerily similar to elfish songs, mobile themes had the One Ring sucking you in. Thankfully, I never muttered Alohamora before the lifts as Anu claims she does.

So desperate for some dope, I took Eragon that day. It was not particularly deep or lucid or with subtleties. Not even funny/amusing as LOTR could be. But it had enough magic in it. I felt real good when Eragon first uttered Brisingr.

Then came Eldest. It was bigger and richer. The twists and turns, the richness of plot, the colourful characters, complex spells, all made it a delightful read. It was suitable dark and still lively. I would eagerly wait for the clock to strike 6 so that I could rush home to have my fill of it.

So it was that with immense anticipation I bought Brisingr. the title had my mind tingling. After all it is my favourite spell. I was hoping as hell that it will lift me from my current gloom of being marooned far away from home, with so few friends around. But it failed miserably. For one, Brisingr lacks everything Eldest boasts of. Its long, aimlessly meandering, often repetitive and pathetically unimaginative (loved when Brisingr burst into flames though). And to think the original manuscript was much longer!!!

I’ve learnt my lesson. I would rather labour searching for a still-unread Tolkien rather than pick up that tantalising copy of Breaking Dawn – unless someone really convinces me that I should. May be I’ll still pick up the last book of the ‘Inheritance Cycle’, but with much less anticipation.

Never knew Micheal Crichton wrote some 8-odd books as John Lange.  Excerpts read like Robin Cook’s. Hope its isn’t as bad.