Read: Wolves of the Calla–“The Way of the Eld”; “Todash”

You could probably look at this section as an illustration of how bloat affects these books. During their palaver with the Calla’s representatives, and again during their todash journey to NYC77, each member of Roland’s ka-tet is given a sentence or two to ponder or comment upon nearly everything that’s said, done, or seen. Even the neutral narrator takes too long to get to the meat of the story, wasting time on unnecessary and uninteresting details. I’m not sure we needed to know that the plates Roland had Jake use to show off his targeting prowess were still greasy, you know? Normally I’d support that kind of attention to detail, but the book fairly groans under the weight of all that accumulated minutiae.

An abridged version might have cut to the chase, and given these chapters’ standout sections a little more space to shine. For those keeping track at home, those standouts included Roland’s todash flashback to the battle of Jericho Hill, the last stand of the gunslingers. In a thrilling “Charge of the Light Brigade”-type sequence, we learn how Roland’s pals Alain and Jamie De Curry bought it, we see Cuthbert take his fatal wounds and still insist on going down shooting and cracking jokes, and we get the pretty glorious image of Roland leading his surviving troops in a suicidal charge against the enemy (“the barbaric remnants of Farson’s forces” or something to that effect, implying that Flagg/Fannin/Farson/Marten/Walter/Man in Black/Dark Man/Good Man/Ageless Stranger/Walkin Dude/Wizard/Maerlyn/Legion/etc. had already buggered off, abandoning his followers now that the main work of destroying civilization had been accomplished) while screaming “NO PRISONERS! NO PRISONERS!” That’s pretty much the Roland I want to see.

The other highlight was the Calla residents’ description of what happens to the roont twins when they’re sent back by the Wolves. The most horrifying aspect is how the poor kids grow from child-size to over seven feet tall in the span of a year to a year and a half. The process, vividly described as like teething for their whole bodies, leaves them screaming and crying in near-constant agony, which their ruined brains can’t possibly process. Now, this is the kind of thing it might have been better to be shown rather than told during palaver, but aside from that it’s pretty nightmarish, one of the first genuinely horrific images these books have conjured up in a long time. It’s also a key to really appreciating Tian Jafford’s desperation, and to hating the Wolves something fierce. That should help sustain me through the fallow periods before we finally get to see Roland charging the bastards, screaming “NO PRISONERS! NO PRISONERS!”

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