A memory of light and postdocs

Since the early 1990s, I have eagerly awaited each new volume. I lugged those books to my after-school and summer jobs in southeast Virginia, inhaled them during my breaks while dressed in an idiotic costume because I worked at a theme park. Around the turn of the millennium, I put up with being teased by my college roommates in North Carolina during a time when I was otherwise on hiatus from genre fiction (The Path of Daggers and Winter’s Heart were the exceptions). Five and a half years ago, I was packing up my books to move from Boulder, Colorado, to Seattle, when it was announced that Robert Jordan had died. Then in 2009, I attended a reading at the most excellent University Bookstore to check out this Brandon Sanderson fellow who had taken over the series. I was cautiously optimistic, but when Egwene defended the White Tower in The Gathering Storm (AWESOME), I decided I trusted Mr. Sanderson to do the series justice, though I remain unconvinced that he got Mat’s voice right. Towers of Midnight was released on my birthday, and I had zero interest in going out to party that year. And here I am, about to crack open the final volume of The Wheel of Time, A Memory of Light.

It’s strange feeling to see a series writ so large across your personal history. And for the record, I understand The Wheel of Time has flaws. Many will point out the mid-series slump, the bloat, the tropes. Perhaps if I started the series today, it wouldn’t have the same effect on me. But I don’t care. Because I love it. And because it’s impossible for me to separate myself from something that has spanned more than two decades of my life. I wouldn’t want to. I am some 4-million-words devoted. Honestly I’m not convinced anything so bookshelf-sagging huge could be perfect, but as I’m trying to say, that’s not the point.

I’ve been prepping for A Memory of Light by reading recaps. I’m in awe of this world, and my head feels a bit full.

For the past couple of releases, I’ve taken a personal day when the book comes out, and this year is no different (though I’m a week or so late). But it’s even sweeter because I’ve been in high gear at the day job for the past several months, and I just now submitted my applications for all the fancy super-competitive postdoc fellowships. High five?

This whole postdoc-applying experience has been fraught. I feel extra neurotic and overworked, and I have developed a strong tendency to slip into passive voice (damn proposals). My email inbox gives me hives. Not the least of my concerns is that I don’t feel ready to leave Seattle at all. But not moving would represent a very definite and deliberate shift in my career goals, one I’m not ready to make given how long and hard I’ve worked at the science thing (and how much I enjoy it when I don’t have to think about promoting myself). Not to mention this will be the second time Andrew has moved across a large chunk of the country for my academic career–and there’s guilt associated with that. I have an amazing husband.

But! Enough fretting. I’ve done all I can for now, and I have a book to read.

P.S. Random photos!