The Illearth War, the second book after Lord Foul's Bane is a bit more violent, but Covenent continues his tortured existence. I wonder if the author, Stephen Donaldson was beset by such angst? I think if I were in such a state I couldn't settle down and write a book, and if I wasn't I couldn't remember what it like in order to describe it properly. I suppose that's why I'm not a writer. Wordsworth said that poetry is: 'emotions recollected in tranquility'.