Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book.
These oil-stained pages recount the tales of the Fallen,
a frayed empire, words without warmth. The hearth
has ebbed, its gleam and life’s sparks are but memories
against dimming eyes – what cast my mind, what hue my
thoughts as I open the Book of the Fallen
and breathe deep the scent of history?
Listen, then, to these words carried on that breath.
These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again.
We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.

Steven Erikson – Gardens of the Moon

This opening is the reason I absolutely fell in love with this book. It’s a beautiful, lyrical opening that reflects well on the pages that follow it. The Book of the Fallen, is presented here as a historical document and we are invited to join in the reading of this book, the hearing of this tale – with the assumption that the reader/narrator is quite elderly (its gleam and life’s sparks are but memories against dimming eyes) and may even have lived through some or all of the events in that history! How crazy is that? The story hasn’t even started yet and the scope of this series is already immense!

The idea of history repeating itself is not a new one, and there are plenty of examples (all of this has happened before and will happen again – iykyk) but the way it is written here, really struck me. Check out these last lines again.

These tales are tales of us all, again yet again.
We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.