My review of The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss
So, I finally got around to reading Patrick Rothfuss’s debut novel, The Name of the Wind. This book was annoying on a number of levels.
First, the story never quite went where I expected it to go. “Ah,” I’d say to myself, “Kvothe finally came into a little money. Now things will be better.” Nope. Didn’t happen. The reason this is annoying is that, when I read what actually ended up happening in the story, I could never find fault with it. Of course that’s what was really going to happen. It’s annoying to be repeatedly proven wrong.
Secondly, the craft of the writing was such that I found myself quite often forgetting that I was reading a book, letting myself be carried along by the story. This is annoying due to the massive letdown when you remember that dinner won’t cook itself.
Finally, and most importantly, I’m annoyed that this was a debut novel, and I’m working on a debut novel, and I don’t think that spending nine years working on it would leave me with something even a third this good. Almost, almost it’s enough to make me quit trying. I could only find fault with one segment late in the story, when it seemed very out-of-character for Kvothe not to understand the fundamentals of naming. He’s smarter than I am, has been exposed to the legends his entire life, and has experienced all of the context necessary. It doesn’t make sense that he doesn’t get it. Perhaps there’s an in-story reason for this. I shall have to read the next book and find out.
- Most infuriated by: Denna
- Most surprised by: Layers of Bast’s character
If you haven’t read this, you need to annoy yourself. Now.