There's some overlap, as will be seen, but the most obvious is the hodge podge of religious influences that constitute more literary criticism, and the most obvious of those is the apocalyptic Christology. Restricting myself to the sharp highpoints:

Despite very human flaws Rand is an almost stereotypical Christ figure, prophesied savior heralded by miracles at his birth and everywhere he goes thereafter, with an extended Passion that runs throughout the series. His return signals the end of the world and his blood will save it, and any Westerner with eyes to see and ears to hear can see the significance of names like "Dragon" "Tarmon Gaidon" and "Shai'tan."

Of course, that last example is an Islamic rather than Christian form, because TWoT is no Christian apologetics. Jordan is more Tolkien than Lewis in terms of agenda (in terms of subtlety he's closer to the latter, but attention to the Trilogy and HoME plus knowledge of Tolkien's personal life makes it clear he had a dog in the fight as much as Lewis did.) There are elements of many other religions in TWoT because Jordan’s story is more universalist and comparative. Most of the Forsaken are named for arch-demons about whom Christian theology says little or nothing, but the Talmud has many tales of them as gripping as TWoT, the most famous being Sammael's creation of Lilith as Adams ideal companion at God's request. When she proves less biddable than Adam demands he rejects her and she dedicates herself to eternal vengeance, so Hell's fury becomes a woman scorned (sound like anyone we know?) We have animist elements in things like the Green Man (a very murky figure even in his Medieval origins, who seems to come from nowhere, already ancient) usually taking a Celtic form. We have Jainist elements in the original Aiel, preserved in the modern Tinkers (again, I can't recall either way: Have we ever seen a Tinker eat meat?) who stand in for real world Gypsies. Others have noted strong Buddhist elements in Ishamael (if suffering is the product of worldliness, surely ending the world will end suffering, yes?) and Gnostic ones in Rand's experience at the end of TGS (I won't make that more explicit because some still haven't read it, but those familiar with Gnosticism and the scene know what he meant.) There are plenty of other examples, so many examining all would take at least an entire thread.

There's a lot more than comparative religion, but that feeds into another Great Theme which I'll call the Jungian Theme. It's impossible to read TWoT without seeing true archetypes wholly apart from religious ones, character tropes we recognize at an unconscious instinctual level because they're bred into our bones. What makes the TWoT special and fairly unusual is that Jordan doesn't just recycle them in their standard roles; he mixes them, twists and inverts them. The series is never more "speculative" than here. Just within the Arthurian mythos we see:

Lancelot rather than Merlin smitten by Viviane, who lacks any malevolent elements.

Gawain rather than Arthur (who's a thousand years dead) smitten by Guinevere (she begins entangled with the Arthurian figure of Rand, but only so that Jordan can surprise the reader when the story doesn't go as it "should.")

Morgan le Fay in the role of wise mystical mentor to the hero, and it is she that becomes Merlin's Love interest (perhaps in a nod to The Mists of Avalon) she locked in the impenetrable tower. Merlin will still go there—to rescue rather than become a prisoner.

All the standard archetypes are present and it's obvious Jordan is familiar with Joseph Campbell, but whether the stock characters will do as expected is never certain either way. Sometimes they do exactly as they always do, and sometimes they do exactly the opposite. Jordan blatantly foreshadows a fate for Rand right out of Mallory, never more obviously than when Nicola Foretells, "The lion sword, the dedicated spear, she who sees beyond. Three on the boat, and he who is dead yet lives...." After all the times Jordan has flipped a trope though one my enduring incentives to keep reading is to see whether it goes just as in Mallory or Rand gets a reprieve and an opportunity to live out his life in peace. The fact is, however, even Mallory doesn't tell us Arthur's eventual fate: It's left open ended and largely up to the reader to decide if he lives or dies. Arthur is mortally wounded, but Avalon can cure anything, but the sheath to Excalibur that stops him bleeding to death is lost. Does he make it in time? Can even Avalon heal him? We simply don't know, and despite being almost overpopulated with archetypes that's generally the situation with all of them in TWoT.

This illustrates another Great Theme: The conflict between fate and free will. Tigraine chooses to go to the Waste and become Shaiel, but what of the world if she doesn’t? Does she never die on Dragonmount bearing the Dragon Reborn? What if she goes but Laman doesn’t decide to symbolize the apparently unassailable position in which he placed Cairhien (soon to be Cairhien-Andor) by making a throne of the Tree of Life? What if Tam al'Thor tells Kari he can't support an Aiel foundling on a Companions salary and whether they have kids is for the Wheel to weave as it wills? For the Wheel of Time spins the Age Lace, but it does so with threads of each person's life to live as they please. The richer stronger threads have more influence, but less freedom. Does the Wheel bind leaders to the Pattern, or do the leaders shape the Pattern of the Age Lace? Do eventful times produce great leaders, or do great leaders produce eventful times? Very real historians have asked the latter question for centuries, and will continue, but the truth seems to be that it's a mixture of both, and that's certainly true in TWoT. As a personal aside I'll say I believe some events are fated but each man decides his own destiny.

We also have a great Love theme, and I don't mean romance even if there is plenty of that. As early as TGH Rand begins deliberately isolating himself from those he cares for most, at great pain to himself as well as them, to protect them both from himself and his foes. Yet the farther he goes along that road the more worrisome it becomes since as the world’s savior he more than anyone needs a motivation to fight, but systematically strips himself of all that's important to him. Two thirds of the way in he's basically waiting to die because he can't just kill himself. That's a miserable place to be (trust me) but in a world savior it's a disastrous one because it undermines his willingness to endure complete sacrifice with nothing to gain, and encourages him to take Ishamael's nihilistic view: The end of the world is the end of suffering, seemingly the only way to end it. Even if he does battle on, no concern for those he's defending risks victory being as bleak as defeat.

Yet even if those he Loves are worthy, how dare he Love them knowing most will betray and all fail him sooner or later? How heavily can Jesus invest in Peter knowing that in His darkest hour Peter will deny even knowing Him, and that even when he repents it will ultimately mean he shows his Love by demanding his inevitable crucifixion be inverted to honor his Lord? "A man who trusts everyone is a fool, and a man who trusts no one is a fool. We are all fools if we live long enough." Even mad Lews Therin is sane enough to know this from bitter experience. Time and again we see the folly of trusting too much or too broadly, are told that "trust is the color of death." Yet we also see the folly of trusting no one, and the high costs (though this belongs more properly in a theme of its own and will be later addressed as such.) If Manetheren paid a high price for trusting Aridhol completely, the loss of a friend to the end like Manetheren was just part of the price Aridhol paid for trusting no one. A man needs someone he can trust absolutely just as he needs to realize how few such people are. That's not just a fact of TWoT, it's a fact of life we can all benefit from knowing, a perfect example of what I mean by a Great Theme.

Whom can one trust though when all are so frail, so easily corrupted, so naively unsuspecting? Seemingly ideal leaders conclude "no one" and it spells their doom. Wise, intelligent, perceptive and strong people often rise to great heights, and their assurance mere mortals are inadequate to share their burdens is reinforced by how often it's true. Yet those they keep in the dark are left to draw their own conclusions even as their masters ignore them as irrelevant, which often results in checkmate from ones own pawns while focused ten plies ahead of the game. Pedron Niall, Siuan and Elaida each hold positions of unsurpassed authority, and have earned them, but are unmade by those close at hand because completely unable to delegate anything to the corrupt and/or incompetent people surrounding them. Siuan can't risk the Hall knowing what she knows, so she conducts her machinations in secret, wards her own inbox against pilfering, until the Hall's growing frustration invites Elaida to topple her and provides plenty of willing assistance. When the moment comes we're reminded that "even the wise cannot see all ends" and left to lament that perhaps if she'd let a few trusted advisers in on the secret (even Leane expresses annoyance she wasn't told the truth before she was captured and stilled for treason) it might have been prevented.

Or take my favorite example using one of my favorite characters: Pedron Niall. He sets up a decoy spymaster, both to divert attention from the real spymaster and to help separate true intelligence from the baseless rumors that are all Omerna learns, because he knows how credulous the unwashed masses are, He dismisses increasingly frantic and grave reports from his man in Tarabon because, though the man is agitated, it's only because he lacks the perspective and equilibrium of the wise Lord Captain Commander. Finally a report arrives with an indisputable fact that's indisputably alarming, casting all the previous ones in a new light--and the irrelevant Omerna reaches across and knifes down his Lord Captain Commander before he can do anything, all because he misinterprets designs on the White Tower and Morgase as tolerance due to Niall never bothering to tell him otherwise. With his last breath he struggles to present his murderers the alarm that could have rallied the Westlands against the Return, but it's so stained and smeared with his lifeblood they remain as oblivious as he'd always kept them. By the end of the novel the Seanchan have sacked Amador and taken the Dome of Truth itself. For all the examples we've seen of corruption and betrayal, ironically Niall's fatal flaw is lack of faith in his subordinates.

It's a common flaw in TWoT's great leaders: Elaida is as contemptuous and if Siuan is less insulting she's no less maddeningly patronizing. Against this we have Moiraine's shining counter example: She begins with her cards close to her chest (though she does make one notable exception in Lan, and this saves her from disaster more times than we probably realize because when she gets in trouble he knows both what to do and what not to do.) By TFoH though she's learned the hard way that not only is Rand more cooperative when she puts her cards on the table, he's more effective when he's not fighting blind. It pays other dividends because it's an act of good faith Rand desperately needs: When Moiraine takes a risk and shows her faith in him, he reciprocates and begins revealing his thoughts and plans (compare their relationship by the end of TFoH with Moiraine's challenge on the Finns in TSR that's dismissed with "it's surprising what you can learn in books.) Which of course leads inexorably back to trust: Without Moiraine Rand is alone again, Min and the rest share his bed and some of his thoughts, but they can't be the kind of confidant Moiraine was because they can't advise him as she did even if he tells them everything. Cadsuane fails pathetically as a substitute because the advantage of experience that suits her to the role make it impossible to learn the vital lesson Moiraine did: To control saidar you must surrender to it. Rand is left like Niall and Siuan, and we know how that went.

Then there's the corruption that comes from within, the Dark One's windfalls born of those who can't see evil is more than a name. The most infamous is Aridhol, Shadar Logoth, and it's clear enough no one needs to be reminded of anything except perhaps this: Neither Mordeth nor Shadar Logoth ever served the Shadow (knowingly.) They just did some of its best work. Elaida and Niall are both influenced by whatever Mordeth became when he merged with Padan Fain to a degree that makes it impossible to guess how much of their downfall was inevitable and how much a product of that, but they always had many of the same predispositions. The White Tower is the strongest of the Dark One's foes from its creation until its fracture--and mercilessly persecuted by the Whitecloaks, whose proudest moment was the one time they managed to burn an Amyrlin at the stake, an example of Great Justice only slightly diminished by the fact she was already dead. There's a difference between justice and vengeance though and we repeatedly see Jordan beat the drum for a refrain I've sung many times on several CMBs: When you become the enemy, surrender, because dead or alive they've already won.

Somehow this is usually lost in the commonly expressed frustration with Rand’s unwillingness to torture Semirhage. Most think it no more than Jordan's quaint Southern gentleman instincts expressed in Rand’s refusal to kill a woman, and there's certainly reason for that when we look around at the role of women elsewhere and their treatment by other characters (Mat is just as horrified by killing women, even foes, even Darkfriends) but in this case Jordan is saying a great deal more. We see the same considerations when the Wonder Girls hold Moghedien prisoner, but I don't think it's the perception of women as delicate little flowers that causes Egwene to instantly recoil at the thought of extracting secrets with hot irons. No more than the Towers restrictions on interrogating initiates that so exasperate the Wonder Girls when they capture Ispan and Falion. I've seen comparisons made between the Shadow and the very real phenomenon of militant religious terror, but this aspect is never addressed despite the fact Rand might well have said with the White House "we do not torture." It's not as simple as that though, is it? Many applaud Perrin's maiming of a Shaido, threatening to take all his limbs one by one and leave him to beg in a Wetlander village, as his first human act in far too long, but his revulsion and self-loathing afterward is completely understandable. Yet if my wife were captive to people who'd abandoned even their own limited morality, would I do less?

There's a great deal more, but that's seven examples of what I consider Great Themes in The Wheel of Time. One for each Ajah, perhaps (except the Black, of course.) They aren't trivial, they have much relevance outside of the fiction in very real lives. Not just today, but always. TWoT is more than an interesting story, though it is that, it also has some edifying qualities worth seeing, and it doesn't take much effort to see many of them, only the will.

That doesn't make it literature, great or otherwise. The standard, however poorly defined, is higher than that. An author must have something to say, but he must also say it clearly and aesthetically (two tasks often at odds.) He can't be trite (and some would say the end of TGS is just that) or ham-fisted, but he also can't be obscure or vague. He must be creative and fairly original: I can't copy the Aeneid word for word and call myself a writer. He must tell an engaging story so that he not only has something to say but an audience to hear it. What he has to say must be more timeless than "TV is bad" or "the steam engine is great" and many works acclaimed great literature in their day have passed into irrelevance since for just that reason (Man vs. Nature has lost some of its cache, and not many people can relate to the average working class whaler today.) Where TWoT falls in that I don't know, it's far from perfect and the third fourth of the series plainly displays, IMHO, that the author was living on borrowed time but laboring on in the service of his work and readers. I'm leery of judging the literary merit of any contemporary work for the same reasons it's dangerous to rate a President whose administration you know from experience rather than history: Bill Moyers was uniquely positioned to give insights into LBJ's Presidency, but would be the first to admit he can't be objective.