On page five of Prince of Thorns, I almost stopped reading. By page 12, I went to my computer to read a few reviews from some trusted bloggers/critics to reassure myself that it was a book I truly wanted to give a chance. By page 40 of Prince of Thorns, I couldn’t put it down.
So, why’d I hate it?
The novel begins in such a caustic, morally insensitive way that I was almost instantly reminded of Stephen Donaldson’s Lord Foul’s Bane, the first book to bring me such ire that I almost literally threw it into the fireplace. I finished Lord Foul’s Bane, on the strength of two trusted readers, but ended up hating the novel so much that I haven’t touched Donaldson since. That experience rang though my head as I began Prince of Thorns. The protagonist/narrator, Jorg, was just such a little fuck, so insensitive and hard to relate to, that I couldn’t fathom reading an entire novel centred around him.
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