My brother hails this book as the only book worth reading anymore. He wants me to love it. I want to love it. And it is good so far. The descriptions are lovely and the characters and their cultures are interesting, but the prose is full of sentence fragments, a style I've never been able to fully embrace, and I feel like I'm being bashed over the head with all the foreshadowing. Okay! I get it. Impending DOOM. You've made sure I saw it coming a good 300 miles away. Can we just get it over with now and move on?