And this story, having no beginning, will have no end....Always, worlds within worlds,,,,,Nothing ever begins. Many decades ago the Seerkind (creatures of magical abilities) decided to hide themselves through a spell or "Rapture" in a safe haven after being hunted down and eradicated by humans for centuries (with humans most commonly depicting them as demons and fairies in their mythological tales) as well as being decimated by a destructive being known as The Scourge - The Scourge's form is entirely unknown to the Seerkind, given that none of those assaulted by the Scourge survived to describe it. The Seerkind collect a number of beautiful/enchanted places, hills, meadows and mountains, alongside their belongings and themselves and undergo a spell which encloses all of them in the rug. They also leave the wife of one of their kind, a non-seerkind woman named Mimi Laschenski, outside in the human world with the purpose of keeping and guarding the rug and also unleashing the world of the Fugue someday when the world had become a safe place for them. Eight decades later, a sudden interest emerges for the rug at the time an elderly Mimi (having recently gone through a stroke in her old age) expires. Calhoun Mooney, an ordinary young man, accidentally comes into contact with the rug and realises its magical nature; Suzanna Parish, Mimi's granddaughter is given clues to the rug's existence from her grandmother (who can no longer speak since the stroke) and moves to uncover its secrets; Immacolata, exiled by the Seerkind into the human world, wants to find the rug and destroy her race. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any story springs. The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and the tales that preceded that; though as the narrator's voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making.” ― Clive Barker, Weaveworld 89 likes like “To dream in isolation can be properly splendid to be sure; but to dream in company seems to me infinitely preferable.

This book was SO BORING.


This is one of my very favorite books.


 I don't usually reread books,

 but I do with Weaveworld.


 It is so imaginative and fantastic -

 imagine the coolest, craziest rug 

you've ever seen. 


Seriously, this book sucks.

Then imagine that it's actually a world, whose magical inhabitants wove themselves into the rug to hide themselves from The Scourge, which seeks to destroy them.

A rather silly British fellow has a few of these magical people appear from a torn segment of the rug, and he's off on the most intense adventure... The concept was cool and the characters were alright (kind of wooden, really), but the writing was just... it was lacking... FIRE, I guess. I was just so hum-drum. There was nothing that drew me to read it. 
When I first started it, I was into it enough to keep going. I gave it a good hundred pages and it started getting interesting. But when I hit about 450 I started reading it just to finish it. I figured I only had 200 pages to go and I can read about 100 pages an hour or so, especially given the large title pages and etc in this book, but at night when I would go to read, I'd end up on Reddit instead, or I'd write something or I'd do cross stitch! I figured I was just tired. But then today, I had just finished working my ass off all morning for work, so I decided I was going to do a little reading at lunch. I picked up the book, got through 1 page, and decided I would rather LIFT 25 LB GARDEN STONES in the yard than read this book. Now, that sparked a revelation in me, that I really couldn't give a SHIT if the main characters lived, if the scourge got everyone, or if all the Weaveworld raptures dissipated. I have never done this before, but I skipped ahead and the read the last page, and then chucked the book over my bannister.