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quiet_aura 's review for:
The Name of the Wind
by Patrick Rothfuss
I wrote a fairly long review for this book a few days ago but the app didn’t save it, so I’m going to make this one rather brief. I just wanted to say that this is the first book in a very long time that reminds me of what I love so much about a good story. I was hesitant to start reading because fantasy is not my usual genre choice, but someone recommended it on the guarantee that it’s the only book he (as a non-reader) has ever loved.
Instantly, I was hooked from the first page; that’s the metric I use to establish a successful book. Some prefer a slow burn that you have to work at to appreciate, but all of us enjoy the instant chemistry of a story that woos on the first page. I can’t express how deeply connected I felt to Kvothe and the world he inhabits; how I clutched this book to my chest at times, struggled to maintain my composure in public, laughed aloud at bits of humor and banter, and cried in despair for the cold tragedies that darkened many paths on Kvothe’s journey. I found that having nothing in common with him as a character did nothing to discourage my empathy for him, a boy who, despite his many extraordinary talents, still failed and struggled at things that were of great importance to him. I’ve come to learn that his epic qualities are a nuisance to some disgruntled readers, but I think they fail to see how much of this epic biography is actually a tragedy.
Another complaint from some readers is that the story is too boring, that “nothing happens,” but I would argue that the lack of traditional plot-building many readers have come to expect or rely on for the enjoyment of a story is what makes The Name of the Wind so brilliant. It’s just good story-telling for story-telling’s sake, like sitting around a campfire with an old friend and a few beers, entertaining one another with the nostalgic, sometimes slightly exaggerated memories of the past. I feel myself in Rothfuss’s world, listening and observing as both a passive onlooker and an invisible, unnamed character.
Perhaps I don’t read enough “fantasy” to find any fault in this book or to accurately judge its merits among the other Greats of this Genre, but I can only account for how it changed me personally. It has colored my lens of the world with slightly more magic and beauty and a restored love of reading that I had lost for some time. So it is with full confidence that I award Mr. Rothfuss these five stars and place this book in the top tier of my all-time favorite books, a position that I do not give out lightly. If you have the time to get lost in a masterfully crafted world and the pleasure of a good tale, I recommend this book to you at once.
Instantly, I was hooked from the first page; that’s the metric I use to establish a successful book. Some prefer a slow burn that you have to work at to appreciate, but all of us enjoy the instant chemistry of a story that woos on the first page. I can’t express how deeply connected I felt to Kvothe and the world he inhabits; how I clutched this book to my chest at times, struggled to maintain my composure in public, laughed aloud at bits of humor and banter, and cried in despair for the cold tragedies that darkened many paths on Kvothe’s journey. I found that having nothing in common with him as a character did nothing to discourage my empathy for him, a boy who, despite his many extraordinary talents, still failed and struggled at things that were of great importance to him. I’ve come to learn that his epic qualities are a nuisance to some disgruntled readers, but I think they fail to see how much of this epic biography is actually a tragedy.
Another complaint from some readers is that the story is too boring, that “nothing happens,” but I would argue that the lack of traditional plot-building many readers have come to expect or rely on for the enjoyment of a story is what makes The Name of the Wind so brilliant. It’s just good story-telling for story-telling’s sake, like sitting around a campfire with an old friend and a few beers, entertaining one another with the nostalgic, sometimes slightly exaggerated memories of the past. I feel myself in Rothfuss’s world, listening and observing as both a passive onlooker and an invisible, unnamed character.
Perhaps I don’t read enough “fantasy” to find any fault in this book or to accurately judge its merits among the other Greats of this Genre, but I can only account for how it changed me personally. It has colored my lens of the world with slightly more magic and beauty and a restored love of reading that I had lost for some time. So it is with full confidence that I award Mr. Rothfuss these five stars and place this book in the top tier of my all-time favorite books, a position that I do not give out lightly. If you have the time to get lost in a masterfully crafted world and the pleasure of a good tale, I recommend this book to you at once.