Rhythm of War: Book Four of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 4) by Brandon Sanderson
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Rhythm of War: Book Four of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 4)

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An instant #1 New York Times Bestseller and a USA Today and Indie Bestseller!

The Stormlight Archive saga continues in Rhythm of War, the eagerly awaited sequel to Brandon Sanderson's #1 New York Times bestselling Oathbringer, from an epic fantasy writer at the top of his game.

After forming a coalition of human resistance against the enemy invasion, Dalinar Kholin and his Knights Radiant have spent a year fighting a protracted, brutal war. Neither side has gained an advantage, and the threat of a betrayal by Dalinar’s crafty ally Taravangian looms over every strategic move.

Now, as new technological discoveries by Navani Kholin’s scholars begin to change the face of the war, the enemy prepares a bold and dangerous operation. The arms race that follows will challenge the very core of the Radiant ideals, and potentially reveal the secrets of the ancient tower that was once the heart of their strength.

At the same time that Kaladin Stormblessed must come to grips with his changing role within the Knights Radiant, his Windrunners face their own problem: As more and more deadly enemy Fused awaken to wage war, no more honorspren are willing to bond with humans to increase the number of Radiants. Adolin and Shallan must lead the coalition’s envoy to the honorspren stronghold of Lasting Integrity and either convince the spren to join the cause against the evil god Odium, or personally face the storm of failure.

Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson

The Cosmere

The Stormlight Archive

  • The Way of Kings
  • Words of Radiance
  • Edgedancer (novella)
  • Oathbringer
  • Dawnshard (novella)
  • Rhythm of War

The Mistborn Saga

The Original Trilogy

  • Mistborn
  • The Well of Ascension
  • The Hero of Ages

Wax and Wayne

  • The Alloy of Law
  • Shadows of Self
  • The Bands of Mourning
  • The Lost Metal

Other Cosmere novels

  • Elantris
  • Warbreaker
  • Tress of the Emerald Sea
  • Yumi and the Nightmare Painter
  • The Sunlit Man

Collection

  • Arcanum Unbounded: The Cosmere Collection

The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series

  • Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians
  • The Scrivener's Bones
  • The Knights of Crystallia
  • The Shattered Lens
  • The Dark Talent
  • Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians (with Janci Patterson)

Other novels

  • The Rithmatist
  • Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds
  • The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England

Other books by Brandon Sanderson

The Reckoners

  • Steelheart
  • Firefight
  • Calamity

Skyward

  • Skyward
  • Starsight
  • Cytonic
  • Skyward Flight (with Janci Patterson)
  • Defiant

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ISBN-10

1250757304

ISBN-13

978-1250757302

Print length

1232 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Tor Books

Publication date

October 25, 2021

Dimensions

6.2 x 2.05 x 9 inches

Item weight

2.31 pounds



Popular highlights in this book

  • Nalathis. Scadarial. Tal Dain. Do you recognize any of those?

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  • I have begun searching for a pathway out of this conundrum by seeking the ideal person to act on my behalf. Someone who embodies both Preservation and Ruin. A … sword, you might say, who can both protect and kill.

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  • There was a weakness here. In the division between the Vessel and the Shard.

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B0826NKZHR

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Editorial reviews

Praise for the Stormlight Archive

“Classic Sanderson, with multiple story lines and unexpected twists and turns . . . Successfully balances introducing new elements and satisfactorily resolving some threads, leaving fans to eagerly await the next in the series.”―Publishers Weekly on Oathbringer

“Excellent . . . cranks up the level of intrigue to dizzying extremes…Sanderson’s experiment is working, and he gets better with every book. The journey will be worth it. Yes, you should buy this book. Yes, this is a series worth following to the end.”―Tor.com on Words of Radiance

“Absolutely revels in its fantasy world, one of actual gods, bizarre magic, knights with superpowers, spirits and sorcery, monsters, demons, and magic sword called Shardblades. It embraces the fantastic, and does so with an astonishing amount of creativity . . . Words of Radiance is a must-read.”―io9 on Words of Radiance

“Words of Radiance may be the most accomplished followup to a popular first novel in the last 15 years.”―Buzzfeed on Words of Radiance

“Sanderson is a master . . . Fans and lovers of epic fantasy will find the ending satisfying, yet will eagerly await the next volume.”―Library Journal on The Way of Kings

“Epic in every sense.”―The Guardian on The Way of Kings

“Sanderson is a master of many aspects of the fantasy genre: epic world-building, coherent systems of magic and unforgettable character development. All those are in peak form in his masterwork, The Way of Kings.”―Paste Magazine, “The 50 Best Fantasy Books of the 21st Century (So Far)”

“Brandon Sanderson’s reputation is finally as big as his novels.”―The New York Times on Words of Radiance

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Sample

First, you must get a spren to approach.

The type of gemstone is relevant; some spren are naturally more intrigued by certain gemstones. In addition, it is essential to calm the spren with something it knows and loves. A good fire for a flamespren, for example, is a must. —Lecture on fabrial mechanics presented by Navani Kholin to the coalition of monarchs, Urithiru, Jesevan, 1175

Lirin was impressed at how calm he felt as he checked the child’s gums for scurvy. Years of training as a surgeon served him well today. Breathing exercises—intended to keep his hands steady—worked as well during espionage as they did during surgery.

“Here,” he said to the child’s mother, digging a small carved carapace chit from his pocket. “Show this to the woman at the dining pavilion. She’ll get some juice for your son. Make certain he drinks it all, each morning.”

“Very thank you,” the woman said in a thick Herdazian accent. She gathered her son close, then looked to Lirin with haunted eyes. “If … if child … found…”

“I will make certain you’re notified if we hear of your other children,” Lirin promised. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded, wiped her cheeks, and carried the child to the watchpost outside of town. Here, a group of armed parshmen lifted her hood and compared her face to drawings sent by the Fused. Hesina, Lirin’s wife, stood nearby to read the descriptions as required.

Behind them, the morning fog obscured Hearthstone. It seemed to be a group of dark, shadowy lumps. Like tumors. Lirin could barely make out tarps stretched between buildings, offering meager shelter for the many refugees pouring out of Herdaz. Entire streets were closed off, and phantom sounds—plates clinking, people talking—rose through the fog.

Those shanties would never last a storm, of course, but they could be quickly torn down and stowed. There simply wasn’t enough housing otherwise. People could pack into stormshelters for a few hours, but couldn’t live like that.

He turned and glanced at the line of those waiting for admittance today. It vanished into the fog, attended by swirling insectile hungerspren and exhaustionspren like jets of dust. Storms. How many more people could the town hold? The villages closer to the border must be filled to capacity, if so many were making their way this far inward.

It had been over a year since the coming of the Everstorm and the fall of Alethkar. A year during which the country of Herdaz—Alethkar’s smaller neighbor to the northwest—had somehow kept fighting. Two months ago, the enemy had finally decided to crush the kingdom for good. Refugee numbers had increased soon after. As usual, the soldiers fought while the common people—their fields trampled—starved and were forced out of their homes.

Hearthstone did what it could. Aric and the other men—once guards at Roshone’s manor, now forbidden weapons—organized the line and kept anyone from sneaking into town before Lirin saw them. He had persuaded Brightness Abiajan that it was essential he inspect each individual. She worried about plague; he just wanted to intercept those who might need treatment.

Her soldiers moved down the line, alert. Parshmen carrying swords. Learning to read, insisting they be called “singers.” A year after their awakening, Lirin still found the notions odd. But really, what was it to him? In some ways, little had changed. The same old conflicts consumed the parshmen as easily as they had the Alethi brightlords. People who got a taste of power wanted more, then sought it with the sword. Ordinary people bled, and Lirin was left to stitch them up.

He returned to his work. Lirin had at least a hundred more refugees to see today. Hiding somewhere among them was a man who had authored much of this suffering. He was the reason Lirin was so nervous today. The next person in line was not him, however, but was instead a ragged Alethi man who had lost an arm in battle. Lirin inspected the refugee’s wound, but it was a few months old at this point, and there was nothing Lirin could do about the extensive scarring.

Lirin moved his finger back and forth before the man’s face, watching his eyes track it. Shock, Lirin thought. “Have you suffered recent wounds you’re not telling me about?”

“No wounds,” the man whispered. “But brigands … they took my wife, good surgeon. Took her … left me tied to a tree. Just walked off laughing…”

Bother. Mental shock wasn’t something Lirin could cut out with a scalpel. “Once you enter the town,” he said, “look for tent fourteen. Tell the women there I sent you.”

The man nodded dully, his stare hollow. Had he registered the words? Memorizing the man’s features—greying hair with a cowlick in the back, three large moles on the upper left cheek, and of course the missing arm—Lirin made a note to check that tent for him tonight. Assistants there watched refugees who might turn suicidal. It was, with so many to care for, the best Lirin could manage.

“On with you,” Lirin said, gently pushing the man toward the town. “Tent fourteen. Don’t forget. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The man walked off.

“You say it so easily, surgeon,” a voice said from behind.

Lirin spun, then immediately bowed in respect. Abiajan, the new citylady, was a parshwoman with stark white skin and fine red marbling on her cheeks.

“Brightness,” Lirin said. “What was that?”

“You told that man you were sorry for his loss,” Abiajan said. “You say it so readily to each of them—but you seem to have the compassion of a stone. Do you feel nothing for these people?”

“I feel, Brightness,” Lirin said, “but I must be careful not to be overwhelmed by their pain. It’s one of the first rules of becoming a surgeon.”

“Curious.” The parshwoman raised her safehand, which was shrouded in the sleeve of a havah. “Do you remember setting my arm when I was a child?”

“I do.” Abiajan had returned—with a new name and a new commission from the Fused—after fleeing with the others following the Everstorm. She had brought many parshmen with her, all from this region, but of those from Hearthstone only Abiajan had returned. She remained closed-lipped about what she had experienced in the intervening months.

“Such a curious memory,” she said. “That life feels like a dream now. I remember pain. Confusion. A stern figure bringing me more pain—though I now recognize you were seeking to heal me. So much trouble to go through for a slave child.”

“I have never cared who I heal, Brightness. Slave or king.”

“I’m sure the fact that Wistiow had paid good money for me had nothing to do with it.” She narrowed her eyes at Lirin, and when she next spoke there was a cadence to her words, as if she were speaking the words to a song. “Did you feel for me, the poor confused slave child whose mind had been stolen from her? Did you weep for us, surgeon, and the life we led?”

“A surgeon must not weep,” Lirin said softly. “A surgeon cannot afford to weep.”

“Like a stone,” she said again, then shook her head. “Have you seen any plaguespren on these refugees? If those spren get into the city, it could kill everyone.”

“Disease isn’t caused by spren,” Lirin said. “It is spread by contaminated water, improper sanitation, or sometimes by the breath of those who bear it.”

“Superstition,” she said.

“The wisdom of the Heralds,” Lirin replied. “We should be careful.” Fragments of old manuscripts—translations of translations of translations—mentioned quick-spreading diseases that had killed tens of thousands. Such things hadn’t been recorded in any modern texts he’d been read, but he had heard rumors of something strange to the west—a new plague, they were calling it. Details were sparse.

Abiajan moved on without further comment. Her attendants—a group of elevated parshmen and parshwomen—joined her. Though their clothing was of Alethi cut and fashion, the colors were lighter, more muted. The Fused had explained that singers in the past eschewed bright colors, preferring to highlight their skin patterns instead.

Lirin sensed a search for identity in the way Abiajan and the other parshmen acted. Their accents, their dress, their mannerisms—they were all distinctly Alethi. But they grew transfixed whenever the Fused spoke of their ancestors, and they sought ways to emulate those long-dead parshmen.

Lirin turned to the next group of refugees—a complete family for once. Though he should have been happy, he couldn’t help wondering how difficult it was going to be to feed five children and parents who were all flagging from poor nutrition. As he sent them on, a familiar figure moved along the line toward him, shooing away hungerspren. Laral wore a simple servant’s dress now, with a gloved hand instead of a sleeve, and she carried a water bucket to the waiting refugees. Laral didn’t walk like a servant though. There was a certain … determination about the young woman that no forced subservience could smother. The end of the world seemed roughly as bothersome to her as a poor harvest once had.

She paused by Lirin and offered him a drink—taken from her waterskin and poured into a fresh cup as he insisted, rather than ladled straight from the bucket.

“He’s three down,” Laral whispered as Lirin sipped.

Lirin grunted.

“Shorter than I expected him to be,” Laral noted. “He’s supposed to be a great general, leader of the Herdazian resistance. He looks more like a traveling merchant.”

“Genius comes in all shapes, Laral,” Lirin said, waving for her to refill his cup to give an excuse for them to keep talking.

“Still…” she said, then fell silent as Durnash passed by, a tall parshman with marbled black and red skin, a sword on his back. Once he was well on his way, she continued softly, “I’m honestly surprised at you, Lirin. Not once have you suggested we turn in this hidden general.”

“He’d be executed,” Lirin said.

“You think of him as a criminal though, don’t you?”

“He bears a terrible responsibility; he perpetuated a war against an overwhelming enemy force. He threw away the lives of his men in a hopeless battle.”

“Some would call that heroism.”

“Heroism is a myth you tell idealistic young people—specifically when you want them to go bleed for you. It got one of my sons killed and another taken from me. You can keep your heroism and return to me the lives of those wasted on foolish conflicts.”

At least it seemed to almost be over. Now that the resistance in Herdaz had finally collapsed, hopefully the refugee flood would slow.

Laral watched him with pale green eyes. She was a keen one. How he wished life had gone in another direction, that old Wistiow had held on a few more years. Lirin might call this woman daughter, and might have both Tien and Kaladin beside him now, working as surgeons.

“I won’t turn in the Herdazian general,” Lirin said. “Stop looking at me like that. I hate war, but I won’t condemn your hero.”

“And your son will come fetch him soon?”

“We’ve sent Kal word. That should be enough. Make sure your husband is ready with his distraction.”

She nodded and moved on to offer water to the parshman guards at the town entrance. Lirin got through the next few refugees quickly, then reached a group of cloaked figures. He calmed himself with the quick breathing exercise his master had taught him in the surgery room all those years ago. Although his insides were a storm, Lirin’s hands didn’t shake as he waved forward the cloaked figures.

“I will need to do an examination,” Lirin said softly, “so it doesn’t seem unusual when I pull you out of the line.”

“Begin with me,” said the shortest of the men. The other four shifted their positions, placing themselves carefully around him.

“Don’t look so much like you’re guarding him, you sodden fools,” Lirin hissed. “Here, sit down on the ground. Maybe you’ll seem less like a gang of thugs that way.”

They did as requested, and Lirin pulled over his stool beside the apparent leader. He bore a thin, silvered mustache on his upper lip, and was perhaps in his fifties. His sun-leathered skin was darker than most Herdazians’; he could almost have passed for Azish. His eyes were a deep dark brown.

“You’re him?” Lirin whispered as he put his ear to the man’s chest to check his heartbeat.

“I am,” the man said.

Dieno enne Calah. Dieno “the Mink” in Old Herdazian. Hesina had explained that enne was an honorific that implied greatness.

One might have expected the Mink—as Laral apparently had—to be a brutal warrior forged on the same anvil as men like Dalinar Kholin or Meridas Amaram. Lirin, however, knew that killers came in all kinds of packages. The Mink might be short and missing a tooth, but there was a power to his lean build, and Lirin spotted not a few scars in his examination. Those around the wrists, in fact … those were the scars manacles made on the skin of slaves.

“Thank you,” Dieno whispered, “for offering us refuge.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Lirin said.

“Still, you ensure that the resistance will escape to live on. Heralds bless you, surgeon.”

Lirin dug out a bandage, then began wrapping a wound on the man’s arm that hadn’t been seen to properly. “The Heralds bless us with a quick end to this conflict.”

“Yes, with the invaders sent running all the way back to Damnation from which they were spawned.”

Lirin continued his work.

“You … disagree, surgeon?”

“Your resistance has failed, General,” Lirin said, pulling the bandage tight. “Your kingdom has fallen like my own. Further conflict will only leave more men dead.”

“Surely you don’t intend to obey these monsters.”

“I obey the person who holds the sword to my neck, General,” Lirin said. “Same as I always have.”

He finished his work, then gave the general’s four companions cursory examinations. No women. How would the general read messages sent to him?

Lirin made a show of discovering a wound on one man’s leg, and—with a little coaching—the man limped on it properly, then let out a painful howl. A poke of a needle made painspren claw up from the ground, shaped like little orange hands.

“That will need surgery,” Lirin said loudly. “Or you might lose the leg. No, no complaints. We’re going to see to that right away.”

He had Aric fetch a litter. Positioning the other four soldiers—the general included—as bearers for that litter gave Lirin an excuse to pull them all out of line.

Now they just needed the distraction. It came in the form of Toralin Roshone: Laral’s husband, former citylord. He stumbled out of the fog-shrouded town, wobbling and walking unsteadily.

Lirin waved to the Mink and his soldiers, slowly leading them toward the inspection post. “You aren’t armed, are you?” he hissed under his breath.

“We left obvious weapons behind,” the Mink replied, “but it will be my face—and not our arms—that betrays us.”

“We’ve prepared for that.” Pray to the Almighty it works.

As Lirin drew near, he could better make out Roshone. The former citylord’s cheeks hung in deflated jowls, still reflecting the weight he’d lost following his son’s death seven years ago. Roshone had been ordered to shave his beard, perhaps because he’d been fond of it, and he no longer wore his proud warrior’s takama. That had been replaced by the kneepads and short trousers of a crem scraper.

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About the authors

Brandon Sanderson

Brandon Sanderson

I’m Brandon Sanderson, and I write stories of the fantastic: fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers.

Defiant, the fourth and final volume of the series that started with Skyward in 2018, comes out in November 2023, capping an already book-filled year that will see the releases of all four Secret Projects: Tress of the Emerald Sea, The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England, Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, and Secret Project Four (with its official title reveal coming October 2023). These four books were all initially offered to backers of the #1 Kickstarter campaign of all time.

November 2022 saw the release of The Lost Metal, the seventh volume in the Mistborn saga, and the final volume of the Mistborn Era Two featuring Wax & Wayne. The third era of Mistborn is slated to be written after the first arc of the Stormlight Archive wraps up.

In November 2020 we saw the release of Rhythm of War—the fourth massive book in the New York Times #1 bestselling Stormlight Archive series that began with The Way of Kings—and Dawnshard (book 3.5), a novella set in the same world that bridges the gaps between the main releases. This series is my love letter to the epic fantasy genre, and it’s the type of story I always dreamed epic fantasy could be. The fifth volume, Wind and Truth, is set for release in fall 2024.

Most readers have noticed that my adult fantasy novels are in a connected universe called the Cosmere. This includes The Stormlight Archive, both Mistborn series, Elantris, Warbreaker, and various novellas available on Amazon, including The Emperor’s Soul, which won a Hugo Award in 2013. In November 2016 all of the existing Cosmere short fiction was released in one volume called Arcanum Unbounded. If you’ve read all of my adult fantasy novels and want to see some behind-the-scenes information, that collection is a must-read.

I also have three YA series: The Rithmatist (currently at one book), The Reckoners (a trilogy beginning with Steelheart), and Skyward. For young readers I also have my humorous series Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians, which had its final book, Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians, come out in 2022. Many of my adult readers enjoy all of those books as well, and many of my YA readers enjoy my adult books, usually starting with Mistborn.

Additionally, I have a few other novellas that are more on the thriller/sci-fi side. These include the Legion series, as well as Perfect State and Snapshot. There’s a lot of material to go around!

Good starting places are Mistborn (a.k.a. The Final Empire), Skyward, Steelheart,The Emperor’s Soul, and Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians. If you’re already a fan of big fat fantasies, you can jump right into The Way of Kings.

I was also honored to be able to complete the final three volumes of The Wheel of Time, beginning with The Gathering Storm, using Robert Jordan’s notes.

Sample chapters from all of my books are available at brandonsanderson.com—and check out the rest of my site for chapter-by-chapter annotations, deleted scenes, and more.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4.8 out of 5

44,038 global ratings

Iatrophus Lauroti

Iatrophus Lauroti

5

It doesn't get any better than this

Reviewed in the United States on July 7, 2024

Verified Purchase

The expansion of world, incredible character arcs, and layers upon layers upon layers of meaning that only reveal themselves upon re-reading and revisiting sections... It's incomprehensible how he continues to do it, but he does, and what a gift to us. The book demands a bit more of the reader, but if you give to it, it will give back to you abundantly.

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Jacob Liljenquist

Jacob Liljenquist

5

An incredible work of modern fantasy

Reviewed in the United States on February 11, 2022

Verified Purchase

On occasion, there comes a piece of art into the world that comes to refine and redefine its genre. Just as 'Star Wars' came to be emblematic of the space opera and summer blockbuster, and 'Scream' reinvigorated the slasher film, I firmly believe 'Rhythm of War'--and more broadly, the Stormlight Archive as a whole--to be a landmark novel in the genre of modern fantasy, and a novel which everyone should read. At its heart, what sets 'Rhythm of War' apart from other modern fantasy is its relevance, its originality, and its optimism. Not coincidentally, these are three reasons why the novel should be read.

In terms of relevance, we live in a world of contention and chaos. Mental health problems are continually on the rise, there is political and cultural turmoil around the globe, and we as a race have yet to deal with the awful specters of racism, poverty, and sexism. While many modern fantasy novels deal with such themes, there is a tendency towards the fantastical--to brush aside reality in favor escapism. Not so with the Stormlight Archive! Amidst the fantasy of epic battles and arcane mysteries of the novels, we are treated to characters who battle realistically with depression, who struggle to reconcile differences of belief and ideals, and who struggle with both external and internal racism and sexism. In 'Rhythm of War', Sanderson is able to effectively create a compelling fantasy narrative that is nonetheless nested in the personal struggles common to all humanity.

And what a narrative it is! I will freely admit that Sanderson has certain flaws as a writer, such as an over-reliance on a few favorite 'pet tropes.' Yet, despite his weaknesses, this man EXCELS at crafting unique narratives and settings. Foreshadowing seems to come second nature to the man, but he does it with all the subtlety of a master painter. His world-building is unparalleled amongst his contemporaries, in part because of how well thought out it is. To give you a sense of what this man is capable of, he's invented a set of laws that dictate exactly how all magic in his written universe work. You heard me right--Sanderson invented a set of magical physics for the specific purpose of ensuring his world-building is consistent.

Finally, while Sanderson's writing is both relevant and creative, there is something more than this that sets apart 'Rhythm of War' and the Stormlight Archive as a whole. We see in modern fantasy a trend towards the dark and the gritty, evident in series like 'Game of Thrones' and 'The Witcher.' While these shows and novels are not necessarily bad, they create the unfortunate connotation that 'real art' must be dark, fetid, Machiavellian, needlessly violent, and filled with gratuitous sex--in a word, cynical. Furthermore, these series treat the problems of their world as a given, in a way 'giving-in' to their cynicism, admitting that it is a part of life and reality. This is where Sanderson truly shines apart, and why 'Rhythm of War' is so essential for the modern reader. It doesn't shy away from violence, nor from showing that people have great potential for cruelty and villainy. However, despite all of the terrible things that happen in the novel, Sanderon's characters consistently show that just because our world is bad, doesn't mean it cannot become better. Where other novels choose cynicism as a means of coping with the realities of an imperfect world, 'Rhythm of War' opts instead for optimism, and in doing so gives the modern reader a reminder that there is always hope for a better world, provided we are willing to sacrifice for it.

In the interest of time, I'm cutting my review here short. In summation: if you are looking for a creative book, that is truly engaging and original, read this! If you are looking for a fantasy novel that is nonetheless relevant to modern life, read this! And finally, if you are sick and tired of seeing pessimism and cynicism dominate the literary landscape, and want something hopeful instead, read this!

One final note: yes, the book is long. Over 1000 pages, to be semi-exact. For some, this is a deterrent. Don't sweat it! It reads quite easily, and the series flows very smoothly. May I also point out that you just read this entire review, and I promise you--it's a lot more fun than my writing!

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11 people found this helpful

Bryan Desmond

Bryan Desmond

5

Life before death.

Reviewed in the United States on December 6, 2020

Verified Purchase

Is it even possible to give these books less than five stars? Is it even allowed? Every time we are blessed with a new book in the Stormlight Archive, it becomes one of the best books I've ever read. Plain and simple. They're just that fun. They reach those heights, that level of epic.

A forewarning, this review will be unfettered praise.

I somehow seem to forget just how much I love this series between installments. It's only natural I suppose, to need to immerse yourself in something again to remember just how much it grips you, but still, I seem to forget. It's just such a good story. Every little piece of it. The more we learn the more fun it is, and it is already a massive, interwoven, deliciously complex story. I can't get enough. And so when a new installment appears, I am consumed. Not just in the story itself, but the universe of which it is part. The story, the Coppermind entries, the WoB, all of it. Consumed.

Rhythm of War starts extremely strong. The one year time-jump makes catching up to the new norm a very fun experience. Our favorite characters are challenged in new and distinct ways: by forcing them to re-examine what it means to uphold their Oaths, by requiring them to face truths at the risk of losing the love around them, by pushing them to shed doubt in the face of danger, by challenging them to seek freedom when it would be so much easier to give up. In a series known for upping the ante with each new book, this installments still feels fresh; like an important piece of the puzzle, and a natural extension of the story. One gets the sense that Brandon knows exactly what he's doing...

And so I was enthralled. Having just finished it, I still am. There's nothing like the last stretch of a Sanderson book. He may be the only author who leaves you with more questions than you had when you began, but I thank him for it. He takes you up to the highest highs, and let's you ponder the future, marinating in the experience. His books are just so cool. And that sounds trite, but it's really not. No other books make me sit back and think "Damn, that is so cool" as often as Sanderson's. It's just a fact. And no they aren't literary masterworks or Pulitzer Prize winners, but the complaints that I used to see--hell, the complaints that I used to have--about his books are hard to apply these days. His skills have grown in noticeable and appreciated ways as things like character development and emotionally charged scenes become a major strong point in his work.

I go on and on about Brandon's worldbuilding, everyone does. But there's a damn good reason for that. Because as much as he is growing in other areas, worldbuilding and plotting remain his major strengths. He builds the kinds of worlds that are so interesting you stay up thinking about one little piece of them when you should be sleeping. Roshar--and the greater cosmere in general--is an incredible place to visit, and one that grows more enticing by the page. It is science-fiction flavored fantasy in the same way that something like Dune is fantasy flavored science-fiction. And for someone like me, that's a homerun.

No review of this book could even come close to summarizing all my thoughts on it. Installments of the Stormlight Archive are massive, and each one is a lengthy experience. A lot runs through your head during a thousand pages; more than a thousand. Plus, to truly review this book I would need to delve into the most massive of massive spoilers. But I will say this...

There is no doubt that the Stormlight Archive is Brandon's best series; he admits this himself. 'Magnum Opus' may be the term thrown around down the line. As such, this is the series where he's really starting to open things up, as far as the greater cosmere is concerned. It’s still on a small enough scale that you don’t have to have any idea what I’m talking about, but the connections are flowing. He is no longer being coy about the existence of other planets, and the ability to travel to and from said planets. It’s right there in the text, and it’s all starting to come out. So what that does is get readers who may have never read any of his books other than Stormlight really excited for the cool things they’ve yet to discover. And it also offers a hugely rewarding reading experience for those who have read the other cosmere books, as we piece things together and notice all the "hidden" gems. The balance Brandon has achieved in this is nothing short of remarkable.

I won't pretend his books are for everyone. Sometimes people want something more, and what's more subjective than one's reading material? But if you're looking for a fun world to immerse yourself in, with a master storyteller at the helm, pick up a book by Brandon Sanderson. Maybe I'll see you on the other end of the rabbit hole.

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