I've been re-reading Gardens of the Moon over my lunch
breaks, and just indulging the hell out of it. I'd read about a
dozen pages or so and then pack it up for the next day.
This is what I should have done the first time I tried me
some of this Malazan Book of the Fallen—taken my sweet time.
I appreciate Steven Erikson, now, for what he's doing. When I first read it in college, Gardens of the Moon made no sense and I was like, Warrens? I'm enjoying the reread a lot now, for some reason, despite not understanding everything. It's probably because of random forum people reassuring new readers to stick with it and that it'll pay off. And there's always something about projects like this, ones with such sheer scope and depth and ambition, that seems to require a bit of faith on the beholder's part. Like the Pyramids.
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It also helps that I'm reading the august and hefty hardcover tenth anniversary edition I won from Neth (thanks dude!), rather than my disposable mass paperback copy with mediocre cover art.
I never really got why people would pay for expensive hardbacks. Sure you get the book faster, but just borrow it from the library and then if it's really good, buy the paperback, which will have the same exact story inside. But now I think I see; it's the presentation and feel and better paper and roomier text layout and secure binding; the reading experience definitely improves and is worth the premium.
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I finished Ken Scholes's Lamentation a few weeks back, but didn't want to write a review for it. One, because I'm lazy, but two, because the book didn't stir me. I felt no urge to broadcast. The book's good, don't get me wrong, but not that good. It's in faint praise territory. Characters are well-developed; the worldbuilding is imaginative and thought out; plot's interesting and stuff happens regularly. So what am I complaining about? As with all things concerning taste and preference, reason and logic don't factor into what I like or dislike, really, most of the time. It's about gut, baby. I either like something or don't like it; it's not a choice. But I better articulate some reasons so I don't lose all credibility.
So Lamentation is a solid story, with good meat. But it lacks a certain spirit, the kind that stays in your head after you read, and follows you home. There's no haunting here. Nothing's particularly memorable, and it's a pretty ordinary fantasy novel. Now, I read fantasy for the extraordinary, that's the whole point, right?
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I've got two Guy Gavriel Kay books atop my to-read pile, oh boy
oh boy. Tigana and Under Heaven, yes please! 
