Read all the books...it was like Game of Thrones...every book got worse and worse and WORSE....like they were just stringing it out to make money and prolonging what would have been a good 3 book series instead of 12? 13? books.
Imagine the way this theme will be remembered a few hundred years from now ... (h/t to Guy Fawkes Day)
~~~ Sinister boo-talk: a fable ~~~
Every nation needs its festivals. Especially small nations, three miles in diameter, slowly revolving against the heavens.
On April 1, the Feast of All Fools, Northway Laager opened the doors between the ark segments for the Parade of the Useless Idiots. Johaan and Ayse waited with their ten children for the noise of the approaching festivities. In the distance, the ancient Janissary marching tune Ceddin Dedan stirred the blood. The parade drew closer. A brief pause while the musicians caught their breath, then the Unitarian hymn of military aggression echoed down the long halls. Another pause, then there they were, at the antispinward airlock. A marching band. A float, pulled by six young people wearing dunce caps. A team of acrobats. Another float. Harmonica ensemble. Float. Male chorus. Float.
One by one, a rogue’s gallery of scoundrels rolled past, receiving ritual jeers, and gifts for the community feast after the parade. No bread or wine — these demolishers of civilization had no part in the Table.
The first float bore an effigy of Haggard Haggee, in his traditional pose: bent over, pants around his knees, oversized buttocks gleaming a fluorescent red, rotating back and forth as he mooned the crowds on either side. An idiotic grin on his face counterpointed his inarticulate grumbles, wails, and dirges. “Daddy, why is that strange man showing off his bare behind?” young Emir asked. “Hush. I’ll tell you after the parade,” Johaan answered.
The next float showcased Tugboat Hal. Florid complexion, bristling mustache, four wedding rings on his left hand, this effigy received new old books from a rack on his left, stamped new titles on them, then deposited them into a vendor’s cart on his right, while a blizzard of holographed greenbacks swirled around him.
The Haymaker came through next. Timothy hay, of course. He sat at a spinning wheel, converting straw into jingling gold coin, smiling complacently, of course, even as his wheel emitted screams, moans, and desperate cries.
The final float bore the emblem of a turtle on a fencepost, and depicted a puppet seated on a black-clad puppeteer’s knee. The puppet wore a Confederate uniform with Union field cap. He jingled a bag of loot with one hand and a well-designed book with the other. Out of his mouth came an unending stream of inane blasphemy. “Rejoice, for the Lord hath decided to take a dive! To throw in the towel! The fight is fixed! The game is rigged! God has ordained the global triumph of evil! Let us hale Satan, the real god of this world!”
At this point, the crowd went wild, and howled the gravest insult this community possessed at the retreating parade: “Sinister boo-talk! Sinister boo-talk! Sinister boo-talk!” The parade passed through the spinward airlock, and the families went home to prepare for the evening feast. And to explain to their children who the effigies represented, and why their vile deeds were still held in loathing memory centuries later.
LOL! I believe 13 with 1 prequel and 2 sequels. But, you are probably right. But Tim LaHaye made some money with them.
I remember liking the first 6 books before they started to slip.