Brisingr by Christopher Paolini

This book was as I expected, no worse and no better. Paolini's prose is somewhat awkward, but serviceable. His plotting and characters seem very formulaic, and while I admire his linguistic attempts, he's no philologist (and no Tolkien, for that matter). The real flaw of this book (which felt in some ways like a holding pattern, deferring the real trial until the final book) was the plodding plot; Paolini has a poor sense of timing and let many questions simmer and develop for far too long. Still, since I am now this far in, I will probably read the fourth book when it comes out.