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| Oh, it's all very mysterious, isn't it? |
It's rumored that Patrick Rothfuss took eleven years to write his bestseller, The Name of the Wind. To all of the Harry Potter films, Shakespeare could've turned out twenty-five plays, and even George RR Martin could've written three and half of his Song of Ice and Fire. So, when you consider that, I'd say that for all the work that's been put into The Name of the Wind, Rothfuss has a fair amount of expectation heaped upon him.
put that in perspective, it took JK Rowling ten years to write
Here's the blurb of Name of the Wind:
"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 by day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me."
Wow--he's certainly not one to trifle with! From this we can see that this isn't the same sort of Grimdark, gritty fantasy that we've become accustomed to in the 21st century--the likes of George RR Martin and Joe Abercrombie, for example; this is more similar to Tolkien's brand of so-called "High" fantasy. The main difference is that in High Fantasy, we've got much more of an epic, historical feel to everything--clear cut heroes, ancient histories, and a pervading sense of good v. evil, whereas in more modern fantasy it's all about the gritty reality, the shades of grey in people, and a sense of moral complexity is often rife. That's not so say that one's better than the other, and I think that Rothfuss has managed to blend the two together quite nicely, while still flavoring the more traditional elements, however. But that's not to say that The Name of the Wind isn't dark.
I absolutely loved the first half of the novel. Kvothe is Edema Ruh, a race of nomadic showmen similar to real-world Romani gypsies. After his parents are killed by mysterious figures, supposedly from legend, just for "singing entirely the wrong sort of songs", Kvothe finds himself a penniless orphan in the city of Tarbean--a section which I really enjoyed. It was well thought out, tragic, and brilliantly written, and at times utterly heart-wrenching. Soon, he vows to go to the University, to become an aracanist--a sort of magician.
I won't say anymore for fear of giving too much away, but the characters and the plot keep things interesting. The novel is written from the point of view of a much older Kvothe, recounting his life story to a writer called The Chronicler, and some chapters are written as stories that the characters tell each other. The writing is solid, and talented, the premise original. We see crooked priests, wizened storytellers, snobbish nobles--the section on the streets of Tarbean is almost Dickensian, though there's no Fagin and no workhouses.
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| To be fair though, Pat does look like a bit of a wizard. |
Kvothe makes a difference from your regular, unsure, unready orphaned-boy troupe; he's self assured, talented and handsome while still retaining a sense of vulnerability throughout. If the opening was how Rothfuss was meaning to go on, this'd be a five star review. But.
My main problem was the pacing. Once Kvothe had arrived at the University and the initial exposition of the setting is done, The Name of the Wind began to slow down. From the blurb we're already given a degree of spoilers--we know, for example, that he's going to be expelled, but because we don't know when, it's not really ruined anything for us--but I mean, come on. I was almost waiting for him to be expelled. I really wished Rothfuss had kept the same dark atmosphere that he had cultivated so carefully in Tarbean. Additionally, the world wasn't as fleshed out as I might've hoped. One of the things I love about fantasy novels is the writer's ability to conjure an entire world from thin air. But I expect them to make it deep, and make it realistic. Look at Tolkien, look at Martin; what makes their worlds work is that they've spent countless hours thinking up how and why it works. We have the histories of the noble houses of Westeros and the Elvish tongue in each of their worlds, to name prime examples. And though it'd be impossible to write such a book without at least some degree of depth, it's more clunky and less developed as I'd like. Maybe it's just me, but I feel that this should've been higher on Rothfuss' mental agenda.
But don't give up on it just yet. The Name of the Wind didn't fail to capture that same child-like wonder you'd get with Harry Potter, or the Hobbit. With the departure from traditional fantasy to grimdark in the last few years, to write a book in this way is, in itself, unorthodox, and thereby refreshing. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy The Name of the Wind, and its purple but fluid writing is easy to grasp and quite hard to put down, especially if you're not as familiar with fantasy novels (is that a good thing?) as I am. If not for the yo-yo pace and the lack of genuine depth, this'd be an instant perfect, but sadly it lacked, and so it is demoted to a 4.
4/5
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