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A review by _cecilie_
The Slow Regard of Silent Things by Patrick Rothfuss
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5
Well, at least the title is beautiful? No, don’t worry, of course my review will be longer than that, as if I could ever be content with writing as little as that. Also, I do have some actual point to make or rather questions to ask.
‘The Slow Regard of Silent Things’, again, what a nice title and in all honesty I love slowly regarding, I love silent things and I do love slowly regarding things that are silent, so I feel that I should be into whatever is going on here. Except when the author tells me in the introduction that I’m probably not the target audience and should not read this unless I qualify for points 1, 2 and 3. Hm, not the best selling method and also, do I smell some non-valid excuses? This is to say, it does not bode well for a book whose author feels he has to dissuade his readers before they even started it. And this foreboding is immediately confirmed when I find myself, as a connoisseur and lover of the ‘unhinged women alone in strange godforsaken places’ motif, left bewildered and annoyed the next hundred-and-something pages at the ‘manic-pixie-dream-girl-ness’ of it all.
Rothfuss was right, this is not for me, not because this is about a young woman doing mundane but slightly spooky stuff, I love that shit, that was the best part of it. No, it was mostly Auri’s characterization than made me pause and frankly rubbed me the wrong way… I may not know everything there is to know about her or Rothfuss’ other female characters but I would have preferred to read this from her perspective instead of the author’s voice that is both omniscient and obviously male. I really didn’t need to hear how slender and thin and white and naked and graceful and quirky and lovable she was every two seconds. Especially the bodily descriptions felt odd to me because I’m fairly sure that no woman would actually describe herself in that way in these types of situations. They weren’t overtly sexual but objectifying enough that they made me uncomfortable, especially because Auri is so childlike in both body and mind. Yes, being a lovable weirdo is fine but she’s written like a childish imbecile half of the time. Her absolute obsession with the deified main character of the other books (‘HIM’, ugh, uncomfy) didn’t help either. I don’t know, all in all it was okay but strange (in a bad way).
‘The Slow Regard of Silent Things’, again, what a nice title and in all honesty I love slowly regarding, I love silent things and I do love slowly regarding things that are silent, so I feel that I should be into whatever is going on here. Except when the author tells me in the introduction that I’m probably not the target audience and should not read this unless I qualify for points 1, 2 and 3. Hm, not the best selling method and also, do I smell some non-valid excuses? This is to say, it does not bode well for a book whose author feels he has to dissuade his readers before they even started it. And this foreboding is immediately confirmed when I find myself, as a connoisseur and lover of the ‘unhinged women alone in strange godforsaken places’ motif, left bewildered and annoyed the next hundred-and-something pages at the ‘manic-pixie-dream-girl-ness’ of it all.
Rothfuss was right, this is not for me, not because this is about a young woman doing mundane but slightly spooky stuff, I love that shit, that was the best part of it. No, it was mostly Auri’s characterization than made me pause and frankly rubbed me the wrong way… I may not know everything there is to know about her or Rothfuss’ other female characters but I would have preferred to read this from her perspective instead of the author’s voice that is both omniscient and obviously male. I really didn’t need to hear how slender and thin and white and naked and graceful and quirky and lovable she was every two seconds. Especially the bodily descriptions felt odd to me because I’m fairly sure that no woman would actually describe herself in that way in these types of situations. They weren’t overtly sexual but objectifying enough that they made me uncomfortable, especially because Auri is so childlike in both body and mind. Yes, being a lovable weirdo is fine but she’s written like a childish imbecile half of the time. Her absolute obsession with the deified main character of the other books (‘HIM’, ugh, uncomfy) didn’t help either. I don’t know, all in all it was okay but strange (in a bad way).