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The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle Book 1) Kindle Edition
“I just love the world of Patrick Rothfuss.” —Lin-Manuel Miranda
OVER 1 MILLION COPIES SOLD!
DAY ONE: THE NAME OF THE WIND
My name is Kvothe.
I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
You may have heard of me.
So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature—the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man’s search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.
- Book 1 of 2
- Length
718
- Language
EN
English
- Kindle feature
Sticky notes
- PublisherDAW
- Publication date
2007
March 27
- Reading age18 years and up
- File size4.5 MB
- Kindle feature
Page Flip
- Kindle feature
Word Wise
- Kindle feature
Enhanced typesetting
The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.Highlighted by 15,428 Kindle readers
Besides, anger can keep you warm at night, and wounded pride can spur a man to wondrous things.Highlighted by 7,943 Kindle readers
Fear tends to come from ignorance. Once I knew what the problem was, it was just a problem, nothing to fear.Highlighted by 7,878 Kindle readers
Editorial Reviews
Review
“The best epic fantasy I read last year.... He’s bloody good, this Rothfuss guy.” —George R. R. Martin, New York Times-bestselling author of A Song of Ice and Fire
“Rothfuss’Kingkiller books are among the most read and re-read in our home. It’s a world you want to spend lifetimes in, as his many fans will attest.” —Lin-Manuel Miranda, Pulitzer Prize-winning creator of Hamilton
“Rothfuss has real talent, and his tale of Kvothe is deep and intricate and wondrous.” —Terry Brooks, New York Times-bestselling author of Shannara
"It is a rare and great pleasure to find a fantasist writing...with true music in the words." —Ursula K. LeGuin, award-winning author of Earthsea
"The characters are real and the magic is true.” —Robin Hobb, New York Times-bestselling author of Assassin’s Apprentice
"Masterful.... There is a beauty to Pat's writing that defies description." —Brandon Sanderson, New York Times-bestselling author of Mistborn
“[Makes] you think he's inventing the genre, instead of reinventing it.” —Lev Grossman, New York Times-bestselling author of The Magicians
“This is a magnificent book.” —Anne McCaffrey, award-winning author of the Dragonriders of Pern
“The great new fantasy writer we've been waiting for, and this is an astonishing book." —Orson Scott Card, New York Times-bestselling author of Ender’s Game
“It's not the fantasy trappings (as wonderful as they are) that make this novel so good, but what the author has to say about true, common things, about ambition and failure, art, love, and loss.” —Tad Williams, New York Times-bestselling author of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn
“An extremely immersive story set in a flawlessly constructed world and told extremely well.” —Jo Walton, award-winning author of Among Others
“Hail Patrick Rothfuss! A new giant is striding the land.” —Robert J. Sawyer, award-winning author of Wake
“Fans of the epic high fantasies of George R.R. Martin or J.R.R. Tolkien will definitely want to check out Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind.” —NPR
“Shelve The Name of the Wind beside The Lord of the Rings...and look forward to the day when it's mentioned in the same breath, perhaps as first among equals.” —The A.V. Club
“Rothfuss (who has already been compared to the likes of Terry Goodkind, Robert Jordan, and George R. R. Martin) is poised to be crowned the new king of epic fantasy.” —Barnes & Noble
“I was reminded of Ursula K. Le Guin, George R. R. Martin, and J. R. R. Tolkien, but never felt that Rothfuss was imitating anyone.” —The London Times
“This fast-moving, vivid, and unpretentious debut roots its coming-of-age fantasy in convincing mythology.” —Entertainment Weekly
“This breathtakingly epic story is heartrending in its intimacy and masterful in its narrative essence.” —Publishers Weekly (starred)
“Reminiscent in scope of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series...this masterpiece of storytelling will appeal to lovers of fantasy on a grand scale.” —Library Journal (starred)
Amazon.com Review
10 Second Interview: A Few Words with Patrick Rothfuss
Q: Were you always a fan of fantasy novels?
A: Always. My first non-picture books were the Narnia Chronicles. After that my mom gave me Ihe Hobbit and Dragonriders. I grew up reading about every fantasy and sci-fi book I could find. I used to go to the local bookstore and look at the paperbacks on the shelf. I read non-fantasy stuff too, of course. But fantasy is where my heart lies. Wait... Should that be "where my heart lays?" I always screw that up.
Q: Who are some of your favorite authors? Favorite books?
A: Hmmm.... How about I post that up as a list?
Q: What are you reading now?
A: Right now I'm reading Capacity, by Tony Balantyne. He was nominated for the Philip K Dick award this last year. I heard him read a piece of the first novel, Recursion, out at Norwescon. I picked it up and got pulled right in. Capacity is the second book in the series. Good writing and cool ideas. Everything I've like best.
Q: How did Kvothe's story come to you? Did you always plan on a trilogy?
A: This story started with Kvothe's character. I knew it was going to be about him from the very beginning. In some ways it's the simplest story possible: it's the story of a man's life. It's the myth of the Hero seen from backstage. It's about the exploration and revelation of a world, but it's also about Kvothe's desire to uncover the truth hidden underneath the stories in his world. The story is a lot of things, I guess. As you can tell, I'm not very good at describing it. I always tell people, "If I could sum it up in 50 words, I wouldn't have needed to write a whole novel about it." I didn't plan it as a trilogy though. I just wrote it and it got to be so long that it had to be broken up into pieces. There were three natural breaking points in the story.... Hence the Trilogy.
Q: What is next for our hero?
A: Hmm..... I don't really believe in spoilers. But I think it's safe to say that Kvothe grows up a little in the second book. He learns more about magic. He learns how to fight, gets tangled up in some court politics, and starts to figure unravel some of the mysteries of romance and relationships, which is really just magic of a different kind, in a way.
Patrick Rothfuss's Books You Should Read
The Last Unicorn
Neverwhere
Declare
Beatrice's Goat
Blankets
See more recommendations (with comments) from Patrick Rothfuss
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
A Silence of Three Parts
It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music...but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Inside the Waystone a pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing this they added a small, sullen silence to the larger, hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts, a counterpoint.
The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot and in the rough, splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the weight of the black stone hearth that held the heat of a long dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. And it was in the hands of the man who stood there, polishing a stretch of mahogany that already gleamed in the lamplight.
The man had true-red hair, red as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things.
The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.
CHAPTER ONE
A Place for Demons
It was Felling Night, and the usual crowd had gathered at the Waystone Inn. Five wasn’t much of a crowd, but five was as many as the Waystone ever saw these days, times being what they were.
Old Cob was filling his role as storyteller and advice dispensary. The men at the bar sipped their drinks and listened. In the back room a young innkeeper stood out of sight behind the door, smiling as he listened to the details of a familiar story.
“When he awoke, Taborlin the Great found himself locked in a high tower. They had taken his sword and stripped him of his tools: key, coin, and candle were all gone. But that weren’t even the worst of it, you see...” Cob paused for effect, “...cause the lamps on the wall were burning blue!”
Graham, Jake, and Shep nodded to themselves. The three friends had grown up together, listening to Cob’s stories and ignoring his advice.
Cob peered closely at the newer, more attentive member of his small audience, the smith’s prentice. “Do you know what that meant, boy?” Everyone called the smith’s prentice “boy” despite the fact that he was a hand taller than anyone there. Small towns being what they are, he would most likely remain “boy” until his beard filled out or he bloodied someone’s nose over the matter.
The boy gave a slow nod. “The Chandrian.”
“That’s right,” Cob said approvingly. “The Chandrian. Everyone knows that blue fire is one of their signs. Now he was—”
“But how’d they find him?” the boy interrupted. “And why din’t they kill him when they had the chance?”
“Hush now, you’ll get all the answers before the end,” Jake said. “Just let him tell it.”
“No need for all that, Jake,” Graham said. “Boy’s just curious. Drink your drink.”
“I drank me drink already,” Jake grumbled. “I need t’nother but the innkeep’s still skinning rats in the back room.” He raised his voice and knocked his empty mug hollowly on the top of the mahogany bar. “Hoy! We’re thirsty men in here!”
The innkeeper appeared with five bowls of stew and two warm, round loaves of bread. He pulled more beer for Jake, Shep, and Old Cob, moving with an air of bustling efficiency.
The story was set aside while the men tended to their dinners. Old Cob tucked away his bowl of stew with the predatory efficiency of a lifetime bachelor. The others were still blowing steam off their bowls when he finished the last of his loaf and returned to his story.
“Now Taborlin needed to escape, but when he looked around, he saw his cell had no door. No windows. All around him was nothing but smooth, hard stone. It was a cell no man had ever escaped.
“But Taborlin knew the names of all things, and so all things were his to command. He said to the stone: ‘Break!’ and the stone broke. The wall tore like a piece of paper, and through that hole Taborlin could see the sky and breathe the sweet spring air. He stepped to the edge, looked down, and without a second thought he stepped out into the open air....”
The boy’s eyes went wide. “He didn’t!”
Cob nodded seriously. “So Taborlin fell, but he did not despair. For he knew the name of the wind, and so the wind obeyed him. He spoke to the wind and it cradled and caressed him. It bore him to the ground as gently as a puff of thistledown and set him on his feet softly as a mother’s kiss.
“And when he got to the ground and felt his side where they’d stabbed him, he saw that it weren’t hardly a scratch. Now maybe it was just a piece of luck,” Cob tapped the side of his nose knowingly. “Or maybe it had something to do with the amulet he was wearing under his shirt.”
“What amulet?” the boy asked eagerly through a mouthful of stew.
Old Cob leaned back on his stool, glad for the chance to elaborate. “A few days earlier, Taborlin had met a tinker on the road. And even though Taborlin didn’t have much to eat, he shared his dinner with the old man.”
“Right sensible thing to do,” Graham said quietly to the boy. “Everyone knows: ‘A tinker pays for kindness twice.’”
“No no,” Jake grumbled. “Get it right: ‘A tinker’s advice pays kindness twice.’”
The innkeeper spoke up for the first time that night. “Actually, you’re missing more than half,” he said, standing in the doorway behind the bar.
“A tinker’s debt is always paid:
Once for any simple trade.
Twice for freely-given aid.
Thrice for any insult made.”
The men at the bar seemed almost surprised to see Kote standing there. They’d been coming to the Waystone every Felling night for months and Kote had never interjected anything of his own before. Not that you could expect anything else, really. He’d only been in town for a year or so.
He was still a stranger. The smith’s prentice had lived here since he was eleven, and he was still referred to as “that Rannish boy,” as if Rannish were some foreign country and not a town less than thirty miles away.
“Just something I heard once,” Kote said to fill the silence, obviously embarrassed.
Old Cob nodded before he cleared his throat and launched back into the story. “Now this amulet was worth a whole bucket of gold nobles, but on account of Taborlin’s kindness, the tinker sold it to him for nothing but an iron penny, a copper penny, and a silver penny. It was black as a winter night and cold as ice to touch, but so long as it was round his neck, Taborlin would be safe from the harm of evil things. Demons and such.”
“I’d give a good piece for such a thing these days,” Shep said darkly. He had drunk most and talked least over the course of the evening. Everyone knew that something bad had happened out on his farm last Cendling night, but since they were good friends they knew better than to press him for the details. At least not this early in the evening, not as sober as they were.
“Aye, who wouldn’t?” Old Cob said judiciously, taking a long drink.
“I din’t know the Chandrian were demons,” the boy said. “I’d heard—”
“They ain’t demons,” Jake said firmly. “They were the first six people to refuse Tehlu’s choice of
the path, and he cursed them to wander the corners—”
“Are you telling this story, Jacob Walker?” Cob said sharply. “Cause if you are, I’ll just let you get on with it.”
The two men glared at each other for a long moment. Eventually Jake looked away, muttering something that could, conceivably, have been an apology.
Cob turned back to the boy. “That’s the mystery of the Chandrian,” he explained. “Where do they come from? Where do they go after they’ve done their bloody deeds? Are they men who sold their souls? Demons? Spirits? No one knows.” Cob shot Jake a profoundly disdainful look. “Though every half-wit claims he knows....”
The story fell further into bickering at this point, about the nature of the Chandrian, the signs that showed their presence to the wary, and whether the amulet would protect Taborlin from bandits, or mad dogs, or falling off a horse. Things were getting heated when the front door banged open.
Jake looked over. “It’s about time you got in, Carter. Tell this damn fool the difference between a demon and a dog. Everybody kn—” Jake stopped midsentence and rushed to the door. “God’s body, what happened to you?”
Carter stepped into the light, his face pale and smeared with blood. He clutched an old saddle blanket to his chest. It was an odd, awkward shape, as if it were wrapped around a tangle of kindling sticks.
His friends jumped off their stools and hurried over at the sight of him. “I’m fine,” he said as he made his slow way into the common room. His eyes were wild around the edges, like a skittish horse. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
He dropped the bundled blanket onto the nearest table where it knocked hard against the wood, as if it were full of stones. His clothes were crisscrossed with long, straight cuts. His grey shirt hung in loose tatters except where it was stuck to his body, stained a dark, sullen red.
Graham tried to ease him into a chair. “Mother of God. Sit down, Carter. What happened to you? Sit down.”
Carter shook his head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m fine. I’m not hurt that bad.”
“How many were there?” Graham said.
“One,” Carter said. “But it’s not what you think—”
“Goddammit. I told you, Carter,” Old Cob burst out with the sort of frightened anger only relatives and close friends can muster. “I told you for months now. You can’t go out alone. Not even as far as Baedn. It ain’t safe.” Jake laid a hand on the old man’s arm, quieting him.
“Just take a sit,” Graham said, still trying to steer Carter into a chair. “Let’s get that shirt off you and get you cleaned up.”
Carter shook his head. “I’m fine. I got cut up a little, but the blood is mostly Nelly’s. It jumped on her. Killed her about two miles outside town, past the Oldstone Bridge.”
A moment of serious silence followed the news. The smith’s prentice laid a sympathetic hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Damn. That’s hard. She was gentle as a lamb, too. Never tried to bite or kick when you brought her in for shoes. Best horse in town. Damn. I’m...” He trailed off. “Damn. I don’t know what to say.” He looked around helplessly.
Cob finally managed to free himself from Jake. “I told you,” he repeated, shaking a finger in Carter’s direction. “There’s folks out lately that would kill you for a pair of pennies, let alone a horse and cart. What are you going to do now? Pull it yourself?”
There was a moment of uncomfortable quiet. Jake and Cob glared at each other while the rest seemed at a loss for words, unsure of how to comfort their friend.
The innkeeper moved carefully through the silence. Arms full, he stepped nimbly around Shep and began to arrange some items on a nearby table: a bowl of hot water, shears, some clean linen, a few glass bottles, needle and gut.
“This never would have happened if he’d listened to me in the first place,” Old Cob muttered. Jake tried to quiet him, but Cob brushed him aside. “I’m just tellin’ the truth. It’s a damn shame about Nelly, but he better listen now or he’ll end up dead. You don’t get lucky twice with those sort of men.”
Carter’s mouth made a thin line. He reached out and pulled the edge of the bloody blanket. Whatever was inside flipped over once and snagged on the cloth. Carter tugged harder and there was a clatter like a bag of flat river stones upended onto the tabletop.
It was a spider as large as a wagon wheel, black as slate.
The smith’s prentice jumped backward and hit a table, knocking it over and almost falling to the ground himself. Cob’s face went slack. Graham, Shep, and Jake made wordless, startled sounds and moved away, raising their hands to their faces. Carter took a step backward that was almost like a nervous twitch. Silence filled the room like a cold sweat.
The innkeeper frowned. “They can’t have made it this far west yet,” he said softly.
If not for the silence, it is unlikely anyone would have heard him. But they did. Their eyes pulled away from the thing on the table to stare mutely at the red-haired man.
Jake found his voice first. “You know what this is?”
The innkeeper’s eyes were distant. “Scrael,” he said distractedly. “I’d thought the mountains—”
“Scrael?” Jake broke in. “Blackened body of God, Kote. You’ve seen these things before?”
“What?” The red-haired innkeeper looked up sharply, as if suddenly remembering where he was.
“Oh. No. No, of course not.” Seeing that he was the only one within arm’s length of the dark thing, he took a measured step away. “Just something I heard.” They stared at him. “Do you remember the trader that came through about two span ago?”
They all nodded. “Bastard tried to charge me ten pennies for a half-pound of salt,” Cob said reflexively, repeating the complaint for perhaps the hundredth time.
“Wish I’d bought some,” Jake mumbled. Graham nodded a silent agreement.
“He was a filthy shim,” Cob spat, seeming to find comfort in the familiar words. “I might pay two in a tight time, but ten is robbery.”
“Not if there are more of those on the road,” Shep said darkly.
All eyes went back to the thing on the table. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Inside Flap
The Adem call me Maedre. Which, depending on how it's spoken, can mean The Flame, The Thunder, or The Broken Tree.
"The Flame" is obvious if you've ever seen me. I have red hair, bright. If I had been born a couple of hundred years ago I would probably have been burned as a demon. I keep it short but it's unruly. When left to its own devices, it sticks up and makes me look as if I have been set afire.
"The Thunder" I attribute to a strong baritone and a great deal of stage training at an early age.
I've never thought of "The Broken Tree" as very significant. Although in retrospect, I suppose it could be considered at least partially prophetic.
My first mentor called me E'lir because I was clever and I knew it. My first real lover called me Dulator because she liked the sound of it. I have been called Shadicar, Lightfinger, and Six-String. I have been called Kvothe the Bloodless, Kvothe the Arcane, and Kvothe Kingkiller. I have earned those names. Bought and paid for them.
But I was brought up as Kvothe. My father once told me it meant "to know."
I have, of course, been called many other things. Most of them uncouth, although very few were unearned.
I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
You may have heard of me.
So begins the tale of Kvothe-from his childhood in a troupe of traveling players, to years spent as a near-feral orphan in a crime-riddled city, to his daringly brazen yet successful bid to enter a difficult and dangerous school of magic. In these pages you will come to know Kvothe as a notorious magician, an accomplished thief, a masterful musician, and an infamous assassin. But The Name of the Wind is so much more-for the story it tells reveals the truth behind Kvothe's legend.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.From Publishers Weekly
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From Bookmarks Magazine
Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
About the Author
Product details
- ASIN : B0010SKUYM
- Publisher : DAW (March 27, 2007)
- Publication date : March 27, 2007
- Language : English
- File size : 4622 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 718 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #4,077 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #17 in Coming of Age Fantasy eBooks
- #44 in Coming of Age Fantasy (Books)
- #75 in Sword & Sorcery Fantasy eBooks
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Patrick Rothfuss had the good fortune to be born in Wisconsin in 1973, where the long winters and lack of cable television encouraged a love of reading and writing.
After abandoning his chosen field of chemical engineering, Pat became an itinerant student, wandering through clinical psychology, philosophy, medieval history, theater, and sociology. Nine years later, Pat was forced by university policy to finally complete his undergraduate degree in English.
When not reading and writing, he teaches fencing and dabbles with alchemy in his basement.
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Five stars. Two enthusiastic thumbs up. It's really freakin' good.
That said, it's not perfect. In fact, it's really more like 4.51 stars. Still really great despite a couple of tiny but nagging issues. "Issues" is putting it too harshly, but you know what I mean. I loved reading/listening to this book, especially the first half of it. The second half is why it's not a pure 5-star book for me, but as I said, it's still one of my all-time favorites in terms of pure fun to read. The prose flows beautifully, the descriptions are brilliantly evocative without being too verbose (most of the time), and the characters are real people with real people personalities and dialogue (mostly).
But let's get into more detail.
Technical Aspects
Let's start with a blanket statement. Pat Rothfuss is a phenomenal writer. I've seen several reviews on Goodreads where the reviewer gripes about the prose and claims that there's too much telling as opposed to showing, etc. Compared to what? Hills Like White Elephants?
I'm here to tell you they're all full of crap. I mean, I'm a harsh critic (see my A Hero's Quest review) but seriously, it seems like some people just like to gripe and spout basic writing technique jargon like "oh, yes, he TELLS more than he SHOWS, mmyes,..whatever that means..." I imagine that statement with a uppity British accent.
The prose in this book is extremely poetic. Now, I tend to like things a bit on the poetic side, so maybe I'm a bit biased, but I didn't think it was too verbose for the most part. Yeah, sometimes there'd be a recycled description or a particular mental state compared to a particular gentle summer breeze or whatever one too many times, but for the most part, I loved it. Rothfuss uses simile and metaphor extremely well in his descriptions, especially through Kvothe's first-person perspective when describing character actions and gestures. I could really see and taste and hear and feel this world.
That said, a lot of reviewers have brought up the gripe that the world isn't all that original. And that's true...for the most part. I mean, the names of people are largely common day names from our world, though many of the main characters have more original ones. The social structure is your typical medieval monarchical ruling-class system with nobility and merchants and farmers and beggars and all that stuff. Not that that's a problem. There are plenty enough unique features (like the brilliant, if not terribly well-defined magic system and the religious system) and unique aspects of the more familiar parts of the setting (like Kvoth's childhood in a troupe of traveling performers). Long story short, there is more than enough uniqueness to go around. In addition, what isn't that terribly original in its conception is executed so well that we don't really care. Heck, literary fiction like To Kill a Mockingbird gets the job done with NO magic and NO fantastical setting. It's all about execution. But, this being fantasy, I do have to take off a very tiny, tiny fraction of a point for lack of more unique aspects of this world.
Oh wait. I just remembered the dragon. Never mind. Full marks. Well done, sir...even if that part of the story dragged a bit. More on that later.
As for perspective, Rothfuss sets the scene with beautiful imagery and description in a third-person omniscient perspective executed so well as to rival even that in Dune. The bulk of the story though is in first person as Kvoth narrates his own story to a scribe who has convinced him of the need to set the record straight and put down the true story of his exploits. The balance between these two perspectives is marvelously done and seamless in transitions from chapter to chapter. Yes, Kvoth does narrate in a very written-out, premeditated way even though he's supposedly telling this story off the cuff, but he does come from a long tradition of musicians and storytellers so it at least makes some sense.
The prose is a bit verbose at times, as I mentioned. That said, those times are few and far between (for me at least) and even when it does get a little wordy, it's not that distracting.
There's a scene in particular where Kvoth performs his lute in a tavern. There's a lot more going on in the scene, but that's the simplified, spoiler-free version. As a musician myself, I must say that this scene is one of the best-executed music performance scenes I've ever read. The description of not only the music, but of Kvoth's feelings and thoughts as he's approaching the stage, as he's playing, afterwards, are so beautifully and accurately painted with words that I could authentically feel as though I were there playing myself. It would not suprise me at all to find that Mr. Rothfuss is a musician. If he's not, then I applaud it all the more. Music is one of the hardest things to capture in words. I will say that in the opening of the second book, it gets a little over the top with the music stuff. In this book though, in that scene in particular, it was simply brilliant.
It may not be the "greatest prose in the history of all writing ever," but it is tight, beautiful, and effective. Nothing that I can really complain that much about. Compared to most of the writing I've seen these days, especially in fantasy (I'm looking at you, Mr. Sanderson), it is a shining example of how to author. Yes. That's a verb now.
Also, footnote, Sanderson isn't terrible. Just not as in line with my tastes. So much of this stuff is completely an utterly subjective. Some of it though is not (looking at you, Morgan Rice).
Plot
Strangely enough, this is where I had most of my issues with the book. Small issues...but issues.
The plot starts off with Kvoth in the present day (in the story world) as he goes about his business managing his inn. He is apparently some heroic, famous person who is in hiding, believed to be dead. This part of the story is really great. We get to know the characters slowly through a fairly normal evening until BAM somebody walks in and drops a dead, giant spider demon on the table. I'm hooked. But only because he bought the right to introduce a giant spider demon with the quality of the writing up to that point.
From there, we meet Chronicler, a scribe who travels the world searching for stories to record on paper. He has tracked down Kvoth and convinces Kvoth to tell his story.
Kvoth's story kind of breaks down into four segments;
- Traveling with his troupe of performers
- Living on the streets in Tarbean
- The Academy
- Hunt for the Chandrian
Of these four sections, the first two are by far the most interesting. I absolutely loved Kvoth's time with his family in their traveling group of performers and the old mentor character (while yes, a little cliché) is great as well. It's a brilliant way to introduce so many different world elements as they travel around, while the dynamic between Kvoth and his parents is nothing short of heart warming.
Some other reviewer apparently thought there was a creepy Oedipus complex thing going on. To them I extend a hearty middle digit. No. Just...no.
Kvoth's exploits on the streets of Tarbean are so visceral and heartbreaking at times that you can't help but be drawn in. The city is described beautifully in its ugliness, though everything in this book is described beautifully, and the characters we meet here are fascinating in their own right, though none of them really carry over to the next part of the story.
Here we touch on one of my only problems with the story and its structure. There's very little organization or what could be called structure. Not that there HAVE to be three acts or that there HAS to be a particular rise and fall to the story. I mean, it works very well as it is, but there are definitely times when you get the feeling of "why are we still here?"
This first started for me when Kvoth reached the Academy. Firstly, his decision to go there comes largely out of the blue, though it is somewhat justified. He's wanted to go there since he was young, but I just could have used a little more of an inciting incident there.
Once he gets there, things move pretty quickly. We don't have as much of a chance as I'd like to be introduced to the Academy, the surrounding town, etc. Maybe I would have had him meeting some other students first, ask them questions, or something like that. Instead, he jumps right into the admissions hearing and gets in.
This may be a good time to touch on another thing I found slightly jarring in this book: convenience. Kvoth pretty much always gets out of jams, oftentimes more through luck than skill. Rothfuss will often introduce a problem (for example, Kvoth can't pay his second term's tuition at the Academy) and then resolve it through sheer luck. In the case of the tuition, Kvoth must borrow money to pay tuition, but he is penniless and has no credit to borrow against, so nobody will lend him money...EXCEPT this ex-student who runs a small lending business in the town across the river. Not only that, but she's a sweet, beautiful girl who flirts with him. Yes, he's now in debt, but the stakes don't seem that high.
Another time, Kvoth needs to sell a horse he's bought in order to get his money back, and a tinker just happens to be sitting on the road outside town in need of a horse and trades a boatload of useful stuff in exchange for Kvoth's horse.
There are several more examples of this phenomenon in the book. These bits aren't story-breaking issues, but they did stick out at me as a little TOO convenient. They're all handled pretty well for what they are though and there is justification and explanation for many of them, but still, it was just a tad too much for my taste. Another thing though: every girl Kvoth meets is not only beautiful, but they all seem to immediately like him in one form or another. Convenient. Again though, Rothfuss kind of buys the right to do this by handling it pretty well and by writing everything else so well.
Anyway, the last part of the story seemed the most out of place to me. It works, just like pretty much everything else in this story, but there were several small story issues I had that, when looked at together after I've read the book, make this section stand out a little to me.
Kvoth hears about a town 60 miles away that has experienced an apparent attack similar to the one he's experienced earlier and rushes off to find the Chandrian there. This felt a little random, but I definitely went along with it. He goes and buys a horse (pretty conveniently, again) and rides off to find the town. He arrives and is told there's only one survivor from the event...and it turns out to be the girl he's had a crush on for half the book. Very convenient. They then run off into the woods to find his friend's sponsor. Then they run into a beast of some description, which they decide they need to kill...for some reason. The justification is that they're afraid it will hurt people...but it hasn't done that before, except in this one, specific situation and there's no reason to think it will start doing it now...so it just felt a little forced in order to get us to the "cool magic scene."
Overall, even this section works very well and we get some great character moments. Characters are really what make any story great, and this story is no exception. I can forgive a whole lot of plot/technical/pacing/originality issues if the characters are good and if the author makes us care about them. Rothfuss definitely hits the mark there.
Characters
The bulk of the book is in first person from Kvoth's perspective. He is an interesting character. He is world weary and "waiting to die" as the story opens, but in the past he is a witty, quick-thinking, yet girl-shy young man who is incredibly bright. He picks up new skills extremely quickly. This is another thing a lot of reviewers disliked, claiming that Kvoth is too perfect or too unsympathetic because he's so good at everything he does in stereotypical fantasy hero fashion. While he's not the most original of protagonists, I think these claims are entirely unfounded. This character type (troubled superman) works for a reason. And there are enough unique parts of his character that he feels like an individual person, not a cardboard cutout caricature. He also fails often enough so that you don't feel like he's TOO overpowered. When he tries to help, he does sometimes make things worse before he fixes them.
We also have his present day self, who is tortured and sullen. Obviously, so much has happened to him and we really want to see what all of that was. Several good mysteries are hinted at, such as "what is that sword on the wall?" and "what happened to his lady friend?" and "how did he meet Bast?" and "how did he get thrown out of the academy?" (that's not a spoiler; you find that out pretty early on).
The contrast between past Kvoth and future Kvoth creates a tension that the reader wants to see resolved. Brilliant.
The only other character I really want to talk about is Denna. I'll try to do the non-spoiler version first.
In short, Denna is confusing.
I think that's about as far as I'm going to get without spoilers, so here we go
SPOILER ALERT!
(view spoiler)
Anyway, the side characters are all great. I especially love Wilem and Elodin. Nothing much to be said; they're all great. Read it and find out why for yourself.
Final Verdict
This book is fantastic. Not perfect, but fantastic. It's got romance, action, magic, tragedy, coming-of-age, self-discovery, other-things-with-hyphens. I don't have as much to say in this final verdict other than buy it. Read it. Enjoy it. You're welcome.
Meet Kvothe:
-- “I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me.”
He is the heart of this story. Currently Kvothe is in hiding pretending to be an innkeeper, he doesn’t seem that special when we first meet him but all of that is about to change. This is his story told to a scribe who has followed rumors to find him. Kvothe has led quite the life, currently his best friend is a demon, he grew up traveling with something alike to gypsies, lived on the streets as a beggar and attended a school of magic that might even rival Hogwarts.
He has all kinds of interesting stories to tell and this is just the first day of the telling. The friends he makes, professors he has and enemies he acquired along the way are all spectacularly interesting and full of pizazz. There are numerous characters that I loved in the book but I don’t want to take up 15 pages righting about then so I have picked my favorite three
The one and only Lady Love of Kvothe the mysterious Deena
She is unlike any heroine in a story I’ve ever read. She is not the prim and proper Mary Jane character. She is so likeable but often in the company of other men as she tries to eke out a living of sorts. As a woman she has limited prospects and you can tell she likes Kvothe very much possibly loves and if she got to choose she would choose him but he has nothing he can give her now and so she floats in and out of his life.
-- “Denna is a wild thing," I explained. "Like a hind or a summer storm. If a storm blows down your house, or breaks a tree, you don't say the storm was mean. It was cruel. It acted according to its nature and something unfortunately was hurt. The same is true of Denna.”
She is a fierce, smart and brave. I love the banter between them and really it is a love of the whole person. Kvothe sees Deena for exactly who she is and is able to accept her and never judge. She is beautiful and men throw themselves at her all the time but Kvothe will bide his time just being happy to spend time with her and the depth of that loyalty and friendship that he offers is one more reason that I adore Kvothe.
-- “I have known her longer, my smile said. True, you have been inside the circle of her arms, tasted her mouth, felt the warmth of her, and that is something I have never had. But there is a part of her that is only for me. You cannot touch it, no matter how hard you might try. And after she has left you I will still be here, making her laugh. My light shining in her. I will still be here long after she has forgotten your name.”
You can tell they are going to have an epic love the kind that might end in tragedy but it will be beautiful, bold and brilliant.
Eloden the Mad Professor
-- “Elodin proved a difficult man to find. He had an office in Hollows, but never seemed to use it. When I visited Ledgers and Lists, I discovered he only taught one class: Unlikely Maths. However, this was less than helpful in tracking him down, as according to the ledger, the time of the class was 'now' and the location was 'everywhere.”
He is the best professor ever. You are never quite sure what he is doing and he is either the smartest man at the school or the craziest. Every interaction with him is perplexing and wonderful. He is full of so many fantastic characteristics that you are never sure what he is going to do next.
Auri, the girl living in the sewer Kvothe’s little moon beam:
I desperately want to know who Auri really is, as that is not her real name but the one that Kvothe picked for her. She is skittish and shy and she always brings Kvothe something when they meet up that is ridiculous like an ‘apple that thinks it is a pear’ or a ‘key that unlocks a door on the moon’. But there is something that tells me she may play an important role in Kvothe’s life. She is also just a little on the crazy side as well.
-- “I was wondering, Auri. Would you mind showing me the Underthing?”
Auri looked away, suddenly shy. “Kvothe, I thought you were a gentleman,” she said, tugging self-consciously at her ragged shirt. “Imagine asking to see a girl’s underthing.” She looked down, her hair hiding her face.
…”Auri,” I asked slowly, “are you joking with me?” She looked up and grinned. “Yes I am,” she said proudly. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
What a fantastically imagined world that Patrick Rothfuss has created. There are stories within stories throughout and even though you didn’t see the need for a few details on page 70 the importance of the come to light down the road. Everything is so well explained and shown that I feel like I could have gone to the Arcanium and learned to be and Arcanist.
Kvothe is flawed and broken trying to make it in this world and he is unapologetic of the mistakes he makes along the way. He is easy to like in all of his struggles because at the heart of him is a good man even when he is making bad choices. I loved everything about this story and can’t wait to see what happens next. The fire has been built and I will sit and warm myself by it's flames until there is nothing but embers left.
Top reviews from other countries
At the first page I read, I could see that this book was going to be good.
At the end of the first chapter, nothing could have dragged me away from reading it.
This is an awesome book, that gives a front row seat into the life of Kvothe, the King-killer's life, and all that he went through, and suffered.
I sit here, feeling as though I am still listening to his tale, and it makes me shudder, a little, at the thought of all that power within the body of a man who has faced so much at an early life.
I have such sympathy for him, that I can understand why Bast, his apprentice, is so protective of him, and all he has gone through.
I reached the end of this book, realising just how much he had gone through in his life - then realised that there was far more to tell of it, as his story ended, in this first book, in his second term at University, so I'm very glad I bought the second book in this trilogy, so I can see what happened next, with him!
The problem, though, is that the author hasn't published the third book, as yet, and it's ten years since he wrote these ones, my daughter tells me!
It's no wonder she's got so frustrated, as she wants to know the story's ending - and now so do I! Lol
I will have to go on to Book Two: The Wise Man's Fear, straight away, so that I can at least work out what has happened next - then it'll be back to my Heavy Metal series! Lol
So, I'll catch you on the flip side, and let you know what Book Two is like!
















