The Other David that Mattered the Most

Most of the world mourned when David Carrandine died. I was only saddened at the passing of the legend, because me and a select group of individuals were mourning at the passing of another literary giant: David Eddings.

Flashback to 1995. I was still in a relationship with The Devourer of Souls, She Who Is Not To Be Named. I was knee deep high into mystery novels, and was rereading The Sign of Four by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I took a break when Sherlock Holmes was explaining to Watson why his dog, Toby, was confused by the trail left by the villains. I was at her house, and with just the two of us there, I wandered around, stretching the kinks in my legs. The Devourer of Souls was watching her favorite demonic program, T.G.I.S. With the sounds coming out of the room (the oohs and the aahs), I dare not enter the room, lest my soul be stolen. 

It was then, perhaps trying to look for silence, I walked to the family's mini library and studied the books. I wasn't really looking for anything, just scanning around blankly. I was also

 interested in chess at that time, so it happened that a book entitled The Magician's Gambit caught my eye. I took it out, look at the cover, saw it was fantasy. And it was a part of the series: namely The Pawn of Prophecy, The Queen of Sorcery, Castle of Wizardry and Enchanter's End Game.

Curious (and partly because I have nothing more to read after the Sign of Four) I ventured to The Devourer's room (thank God for commercial breaks) and asked her if I can borrow the books. With a dismissive hand she said take it, Bobby Andrews and Angelu De Leon just came on screen. I took it home, and it stayed in my shelf for a couple of days. Then I opened the first book. 

I finished the first book in a couple of days, the whole series in a week. Then I found the second part of the series (another five books) and finished that under a week. Then I found other books written by David Eddings, and those that I didn't buy I cajoled, wheedled and even one time offered my soul (which I forgot was in the possession of the Devourer) just to borrow The Redemption of Althalus. 

With that simple stroke, I shifted from a mystery buff to a fantasy fanatic, and paved the road for me to read not only the wondrous works the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien, George R. R. Martin, Terry Goodkind and Raymond E. Feist but also to traverse to science fiction reading Isaac Asimov, Douglas Niles Adam,  Neil Gaiman, Timothy Zahn and Ray Bradbury.

But I always come back to David Edding's books. If I ever get to have a book published, I will match it to the standard of an Edding's character dialogues, which are both very alive, witty and real. And every year, without fail, I always read at least one series, just to experience his story once again.

Now that storyteller has died. At the ripe old age of 77, David Eddings died quietly in his house. His last fantasy series was The Dreamers, the last book just released three years ago. He will always be remembered for his characters like Prince Kneldar and Belgarath, of Sparhawk and Althalus. His Rivan Codex will be regarded by the faithful masses as an introduction to world building and fantasy writing. But for me, he will be remembered for he introduced me to the fantasy genre, and because of that, made me for what I man.

Kudos sir, and may you rest in peace knowing you touched a lot of people with your stories.

State of Mind: In Mourning

Song of the Day: I'm So Sorry by Morrisey

Book of the Day: The Rivan Codex by David Eddings

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