Like the stewed, gnarled, irredeemable epics of Stephen Donaldson before him, Eddings' preposterous books—and their inevitable appearance on the best-seller lists—prove only that fantasy fans like what they like, regardless of originality, narrative skill, insight, in fact any positive qualities whatsoever. Why this should be so—who knows? By now the formula is wearisomely familiar. Good (represented by those who just want to rule in peace) must contend with Evil (they look nasty, hurt people, and like to give orders), with the destiny of the world (or, better, the entire universe) at stake. The heroes—in this case, a chummy and indistinguishable assortment of kings, sorcerers, godlings, and bigwigs—shall go on a Quest (Good King Garion's infant son has been abducted) with some ghastly fate to be averted (an unspeakable Evil-enhancing ritual involving said infant). A talisman or two usually helps (a Good magic sword plus an oracular Orb, an Evil Sardion). The Quest must form a protracted travelogue, to the length of at least three books and preferably five. And our good-humored heroes will overcome lots of tough obstacles (captivity, plague, demons) with maximum waving of swords and spells. Assume, for the sake of argument, that there is a plot, and pad it with suitably enigmatic utterances (bits of ancient lore, awful prophesies, dire warnings). Mull over lightly. Package. Success!