You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
milfhunter37 's review for:
A Crown of Swords
by Robert Jordan
A Crown of Swords takes a slower, character-centric approach, diverging from the action-packed climax of Lord of Chaos. This shift allows for a deep, nuanced exploration of the political and personal machinations within the White Tower and among our key characters. This volume stands out for its introspective tone, delving into the power dynamics between Elaida and Alviarin, which is both fascinating and unsettling. Through their rivalry, Robert Jordan provides a compelling look into Elaida’s psyche—her overconfidence, narrow-mindedness, and controlling nature. She sees the world only through her own skewed lens, which drives her to act without doubt or consideration. The details of her nervous ticks and coping habits add richness to her character, emphasizing the tension simmering beneath her authoritarian exterior. This intricate character study of Elaida's flaws highlights her vulnerability even as she wields power, making her arc one of the book’s most captivating elements.
On the other hand, we see real growth with Nynaeve and Elayne, who are thankfully more mature and bearable in this installment. Where they once came off as haughty, dismissive, and even insufferably disdainful toward men, they’ve now begun to shed some of their arrogance. They’re starting to earn their worth as significant players in the story, even if not yet as equals to more seasoned characters. Their interactions feel more grounded, and it’s a relief to see them humbled, realizing that their roles require more than just stubbornness and pride. This shift makes their chapters more enjoyable and hints at the possibility of them becoming the leaders they aspire to be.
The progression of Min’s relationship with Rand is also notable, though it’s not without its flaws. While the foundation of their romance initially feels somewhat forced, the relationship develops organically as they spend more time together. Min’s grounded and practical personality serves as a stabilizing influence for Rand, helping to temper his rage and anchor his rapidly unraveling mind. Her presence is a refreshing counterpoint to the more strained romantic arcs with Elayne and Aviendha, which feel less developed by comparison. With Min, Rand experiences a genuine connection that feels realistic, providing him a sense of peace he desperately needs.
However, Perrin’s role in this book leaves much to be desired. His staunch opposition to having the captured Aes Sedai monitored by the Wise Ones, despite the fact that they tortured and humiliated Rand, is puzzling and frustrating. These Aes Sedai inflicted unimaginable trauma, locking Rand in a chest to suffer in the heat, intending to parade him as a puppet for Elaida's power. They sought to break him down completely, aiming to reduce him to a mere symbol of her authority, with plans to strip him of any agency or dignity. In a world on the brink of chaos, Rand’s role is indispensable, and his freedom is essential for humanity’s survival. The stakes are clear—if Rand doesn’t have control over his destiny, the world’s only chance of survival against the Dark One is lost. For Perrin to take the moral high ground here, championing the Aes Sedai’s comfort and suggesting they shouldn’t be monitored, feels not only misguided but shockingly naive. His reasoning, simplified to “they’re women, so we shouldn’t make them uncomfortable,” trivializes the severity of their actions and ignores the broader implications of their betrayal.
This absurd stance is only exacerbated by his relationship with Faile. Her possessive and erratic jealousy creates a toxic dynamic that Perrin seems either unwilling or unable to confront. Faile’s emotional volatility and even physical confrontations with her own family reveal a lack of maturity, casting doubt on her readiness for the partnership they’ve entered. Perrin’s failure to address or temper her behavior speaks to a fundamental flaw in his character growth. Instead of standing as a steadfast and insightful leader, he’s compromised by his blindness to her faults and his inability to assert himself. This dysfunctional relationship dims Perrin’s potential and mars his judgment, suggesting he’s far from ready for the responsibilities of his role. His character, once so grounded, now appears diminished and frustratingly obstinate, failing to rise to the challenges that face him.
The ending of A Crown of Swords also veers from the climactic resolutions readers have come to expect, opting instead for a more ambiguous conclusion to Rand’s battle with Sammael. Rand’s confidence that Mashadar must have taken Sammael—despite having no real confirmation—reveals a worrying mix of arrogance and recklessness. He assumes victory without evidence, despite Mashadar’s known unpredictability. This oversight, especially following his harrowing captivity, seems almost willfully blind and careless. It’s inconsistent with the caution he’s learned to exercise and suggests a dangerous degree of overconfidence. Rand’s acceptance of the Illian crown, after previously wanting to relinquish control over Cairhien and Andor due to the immense stress of ruling, further highlights a troubling shift. Where he once recognized the toll of responsibility, he now embraces the power and even toys with the idea of being “king of the world.” This shift in attitude feels disconnected from his earlier struggles and hints at a dangerous path toward megalomania.
Rand’s recurring recklessness—venturing to the rebels without the Maidens after his near-capture by Aes Sedai—is equally baffling. His actions dishonor the Maidens, who view his refusal of their protection as a personal affront, even to the point of considering suicide to restore their honor. This stubborn independence, though seemingly noble, leaves him vulnerable. Time and again, he puts himself at risk by disregarding their protection, culminating in a near-fatal injury from a Shadar Logoth-tainted blade. His arrogance leads him to act without consideration for the loyalty of those around him, nearly costing him his life. While it’s tempting to hope that Rand’s behavior is setting the stage for future growth, the heavy-handedness of his arrogance makes it difficult to overlook his shortcomings.
Despite the flaws in Perrin’s and Rand’s characters, there’s a sense that their actions and missteps serve as intentional setups for future arcs. Cadsuane’s entrance, though abrasive and borderline disrespectful in her initial interactions with Rand, brings much-needed perspective. Her intervention during Rand’s brush with death redeems her, suggesting she may play a key role in guiding him away from his destructive tendencies.
In the end, A Crown of Swords doesn’t deliver the grand-scale action and resolutions of previous volumes. Instead, it delves into the intricacies of its characters—their flaws, ambitions, and moral failings. While some characters, like Elaida and Min, shine with newfound depth, others, like Perrin and Rand, test our patience. The book’s strength lies in its ability to weave complex interpersonal dynamics and moral ambiguity, making it an essential chapter in the series and a thoughtful setup for what lies ahead in The Wheel of Time.
On the other hand, we see real growth with Nynaeve and Elayne, who are thankfully more mature and bearable in this installment. Where they once came off as haughty, dismissive, and even insufferably disdainful toward men, they’ve now begun to shed some of their arrogance. They’re starting to earn their worth as significant players in the story, even if not yet as equals to more seasoned characters. Their interactions feel more grounded, and it’s a relief to see them humbled, realizing that their roles require more than just stubbornness and pride. This shift makes their chapters more enjoyable and hints at the possibility of them becoming the leaders they aspire to be.
The progression of Min’s relationship with Rand is also notable, though it’s not without its flaws. While the foundation of their romance initially feels somewhat forced, the relationship develops organically as they spend more time together. Min’s grounded and practical personality serves as a stabilizing influence for Rand, helping to temper his rage and anchor his rapidly unraveling mind. Her presence is a refreshing counterpoint to the more strained romantic arcs with Elayne and Aviendha, which feel less developed by comparison. With Min, Rand experiences a genuine connection that feels realistic, providing him a sense of peace he desperately needs.
However, Perrin’s role in this book leaves much to be desired. His staunch opposition to having the captured Aes Sedai monitored by the Wise Ones, despite the fact that they tortured and humiliated Rand, is puzzling and frustrating. These Aes Sedai inflicted unimaginable trauma, locking Rand in a chest to suffer in the heat, intending to parade him as a puppet for Elaida's power. They sought to break him down completely, aiming to reduce him to a mere symbol of her authority, with plans to strip him of any agency or dignity. In a world on the brink of chaos, Rand’s role is indispensable, and his freedom is essential for humanity’s survival. The stakes are clear—if Rand doesn’t have control over his destiny, the world’s only chance of survival against the Dark One is lost. For Perrin to take the moral high ground here, championing the Aes Sedai’s comfort and suggesting they shouldn’t be monitored, feels not only misguided but shockingly naive. His reasoning, simplified to “they’re women, so we shouldn’t make them uncomfortable,” trivializes the severity of their actions and ignores the broader implications of their betrayal.
This absurd stance is only exacerbated by his relationship with Faile. Her possessive and erratic jealousy creates a toxic dynamic that Perrin seems either unwilling or unable to confront. Faile’s emotional volatility and even physical confrontations with her own family reveal a lack of maturity, casting doubt on her readiness for the partnership they’ve entered. Perrin’s failure to address or temper her behavior speaks to a fundamental flaw in his character growth. Instead of standing as a steadfast and insightful leader, he’s compromised by his blindness to her faults and his inability to assert himself. This dysfunctional relationship dims Perrin’s potential and mars his judgment, suggesting he’s far from ready for the responsibilities of his role. His character, once so grounded, now appears diminished and frustratingly obstinate, failing to rise to the challenges that face him.
The ending of A Crown of Swords also veers from the climactic resolutions readers have come to expect, opting instead for a more ambiguous conclusion to Rand’s battle with Sammael. Rand’s confidence that Mashadar must have taken Sammael—despite having no real confirmation—reveals a worrying mix of arrogance and recklessness. He assumes victory without evidence, despite Mashadar’s known unpredictability. This oversight, especially following his harrowing captivity, seems almost willfully blind and careless. It’s inconsistent with the caution he’s learned to exercise and suggests a dangerous degree of overconfidence. Rand’s acceptance of the Illian crown, after previously wanting to relinquish control over Cairhien and Andor due to the immense stress of ruling, further highlights a troubling shift. Where he once recognized the toll of responsibility, he now embraces the power and even toys with the idea of being “king of the world.” This shift in attitude feels disconnected from his earlier struggles and hints at a dangerous path toward megalomania.
Rand’s recurring recklessness—venturing to the rebels without the Maidens after his near-capture by Aes Sedai—is equally baffling. His actions dishonor the Maidens, who view his refusal of their protection as a personal affront, even to the point of considering suicide to restore their honor. This stubborn independence, though seemingly noble, leaves him vulnerable. Time and again, he puts himself at risk by disregarding their protection, culminating in a near-fatal injury from a Shadar Logoth-tainted blade. His arrogance leads him to act without consideration for the loyalty of those around him, nearly costing him his life. While it’s tempting to hope that Rand’s behavior is setting the stage for future growth, the heavy-handedness of his arrogance makes it difficult to overlook his shortcomings.
Despite the flaws in Perrin’s and Rand’s characters, there’s a sense that their actions and missteps serve as intentional setups for future arcs. Cadsuane’s entrance, though abrasive and borderline disrespectful in her initial interactions with Rand, brings much-needed perspective. Her intervention during Rand’s brush with death redeems her, suggesting she may play a key role in guiding him away from his destructive tendencies.
In the end, A Crown of Swords doesn’t deliver the grand-scale action and resolutions of previous volumes. Instead, it delves into the intricacies of its characters—their flaws, ambitions, and moral failings. While some characters, like Elaida and Min, shine with newfound depth, others, like Perrin and Rand, test our patience. The book’s strength lies in its ability to weave complex interpersonal dynamics and moral ambiguity, making it an essential chapter in the series and a thoughtful setup for what lies ahead in The Wheel of Time.