Oh, God-fucking-DAMMIT.

Let me explain.

I’ve been a fan of Bernard Cornwell’s books for a couple of years now. I started watching the Sharpe movies (based on his Napoleonic era novels and starring Sean Bean) and after that it was all downhill from there (or uphill, considering he’d written a few dozen novels I could peruse with fresh eyes). He’s a brilliant author whose flair for conjuring vivid historic battle sequences (set in a variety of time periods) is unparalleled in my experience. Yes, he’s that good.

About a month or so ago I finally got a copy of Lords of the North the third novel in his new “Alfred the Great” series. I’d read the first book, The Last Kingdom, couple of years ago (it was actually the first of Cornwell’s books I read), but because it was amazing I wanted to wait until they were done before ploughing through all of them. I’d rather wait an extra year or two to read them all at once than sit biting my nails waiting for the next installment to come out.

So, a week or two ago, I sat down and proceeded to consume all three with terrifying speed and intensity. In all honesty, this is the first book series I’ve read in several years (probably since George R.R. Martin’s “Song of Ice and Fire” books) that I’ve forsaken sleep over, staying up until four or five in the vain attempt to “get my fix.”

Basically, the story, set in the late ninth century, is about Uhtred, heir to Bebbanburg, a fort on the Northumbrian coast (just south of Scotland). His father is killed in battle and he is taken by the Danes (who might improperly be called Vikings) and raised as one of them. He grows to become a man and finds he is not entirely sure where his allegiances lie (even though he is a Saxon, he has no love for them, and he loves his abductor Earl Ragnar as a father), and also finds that his destiny will lead him back and forth across England, always somehow intersecting with the destiny of the man who will become known as Alfred the Great.

Right. So, I made it to The Lords of the North a day or so ago, stayed up extremely late last night reading it and spent every spare moment today engrossed in its pages, trying to get to the end of the trilogy. Because it is a trilogy, right? WRONG. I don’t know where I got that idea from, but not only does it not wrap up neatly at the end of the third volume, not only is it not a trilogy, it’s a full-blown ongoing series.

And that is, I suppose, awesome, because they really are amazing books. But on the other hand:

FUCKING SHIT WHORE GODDAMMIT!

I need closure! Though I’m not going to get it anytime soon.

But at least I have something to look forward to now, other than Martin’s quasi-imaginary, I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it A Dance of Dragons. And ultimately, more books filled to the brim with full-on Danish badassery are always welcome.