A review by dianelikesfrogs
Alvin Journeyman by Orson Scott Card

2.0

For quite some time now, I have been trying to pinpoint the exact date when one of my favorite authors, Orson Scott Card, officially made the jump from writing understated, powerful novels about fundamentally good, human, exquisitely rendered characters in fantastical settings, to writing over-analyzed crap with too much dialogue, too much pontificating about political machinations and without a single bloody word edited out.

Having read both Prentice Alvin and Alvin Journeyman within the past 24 hours, I am pleased to announce that it definitively happened sometime between 1988 and 1995.

I am just plain pissed to say that the amazing and wonderful Alvin Maker series appears to be another innocent bystander, felled in this senseless self-destruction of literary talent.