If you've visited this site every now and then, you would've probably realised that my GoodReads profile gadget thing is sitting right about ----> there, but further down (depending, of course, where this post is when you get to it). If you've been paying even more attention than just to go "oh, I see" and then glazed over thinking about penguins (wait, everyone doesn't do that?), then you would have noticed that by now, there have been two different book covers in that section there, representing the two books I've read since I started this blog. For those of you who aren't freakish stalkers (not that I don't love all my freakish stalkers), those two books were by Patrick Rothfuss, and were called The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man's Fear, respectively. This morning, I finished reading The Wise Man's Fear, and I think I promised to write something about these two books once I had finished, so here goes nothing.
Actually, before I start, I should probably warn you that I have no idea whatsoever how to do book reviews, or even book overviews, for that matter. While I stall and try to think about how to go about all of this, feel free to go update twitter to talk about the crazy blogger girl who doesn't plan her posts and just spews random nonsense.
Back? Alright, let's get this show on the road.
Patrick Rothfuss' Kingkiller Chronicle (of which The Name of the Wind is the first, and The Wise Man's Fear is the second part), as I understand it, is intended to be a trilogy, each novel of which represents a single day, during which Kvothe (pronounced 'quothe', as the author reminds you every chance he gets) the protagonist of the novel, tells his own story. The function of the story within a story is twofold -- as the writing style is extremely intense, full of twists and turns and surprises, victories and downfalls, it gives the reader a chance to breathe every now and then, reminding us of the fact that since Kvothe is still alive, nothing that bad could really have happened. But at the same time, as Kvothe reminds us during almost each of these breaks in the story, the situation he has landed in by the end of his story is far from ideal, and that we really shouldn't except the best -- so there's a definite sense of foreboding going on all the time. It's very captivating, even if the sentiment of the interludes can get a little repetitively depressing at times, especially in the second book.
The comparison between the two books is actually quite different to the comparison of any other two books in the same series. I usually like the first book more, because it is always, always far more polished, and contains the introduction to the story and the world, which is always my favourite bit in every series I read. The first book is spent introducing Kvothe and his background, whereas the second book concentrates more on his adventures and experiences in the world. The fact that he travels so much allowed the second book to preserve that sort of introductory feeling of the first book, which I was pleasantly surprised by. In many ways, the story in the second book may be richer in its surroundings, because there need not be such emphasis on the character himself, since he has been thoroughly introduced in the first book. I was especially impressed by the dual simplicity and intricacy of the cultures Rothfuss introduces in the second book. Saying that they were both simple and intricate sounds a little paradoxical, I know, but what I mean is that the cultural quirks at least appeared deep and well thought-out, but were still very easy to follow.
What I am not impressed with is Kvothe's age. By the end of the second book, he is around 17, if I remember correctly -- but throughout the entire series, there has been no indication of him being this young, except for the author's intermittent statements that Kvothe does not know his way around women. I partially understand Rothfuss' need to have a young character as the protagonist (to do with his motivations; avid fantasy readers can guess this), but... It's just annoyingly unrealistic. For those of you whose brains have gone off, screaming "MARY SUE MARY SUE MARY SUE", I should issue this warning: Kvothe is pretty much the epitome of a Mary Sue character. However, I can also say this: I hate Mary Sues, but Kvothe's exceptional skill in absolutely everything didn't bother me. I'm not exactly sure why: I guess he has enough human awkwardness (though I do admit that that diminished to almost nothing at the end of the second book; this is one of the things I didn't like about it) to justify his exceptional skill at most things.
Overall, Rothfuss is both an amazing writer in a technical sense -- he has this fondness for subtle suggestion, which always rings true for me -- and a great storyteller. The praise on The Name of the Wind suggests that I shelve mine next to Lord of the Rings, and while I don't think that it's exactly comparable to LOTR -- it's very hard to be -- it definitely wasn't much of a step down to go from Tolkien to Rothfuss. If you love fantasy, this trilogy is a must-read; if you don't, you could still enjoy it, if you just gave it a chance. Rothfuss makes his world extremely accessible, and the story is oftentimes unpredictable, full of secrets and foreshadowing and exciting characters.
I can't wait for the third book in this series, I really can't.
Phew. There. How did I go? Did I inspire you to pick up the book? Did anything that I said make sense? Give me some feedback!
Looks like I will have to read this. Though I tend to chafe at the stereotype "guys can't talk to women". I am intrigued, however, so it seems to me you've done well!
ReplyDeleteI can't really comment on that stereotype, because I'm not a man and can't really relate. :p True, the books were written from a very male perspective and that means that the reading experience will probably vary for members of both genres. I can't tell how, though. You'll just have to find out!
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