Review: The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss (Spoiler-Free)

This was published in 2007 but feels like a tale as old as time.

I remember the first fantasy book I ever read, Shadow & Bone, and how it consumed me so entirely I read it all in one sitting, completely transported to another world. The Name of the Wind consumed me in a similar manner, but instead of making me feel like I had fallen into a new world, it made me feel like I had returned home to one I've missed.

’I am a myth,’ Kote said easily, making an extravagant gesture. ‘A very special kind of myth that creates itself. The best lies about me are the ones I told.’

I adore the structure of this novel-- of having a living legend recount his entire life story since the age of 12, including interruptions in the present. While this first entry remains fairly insular, pockets of the larger world are hinted at throughout these interludes, forcing the reader to crave the next chapter.

This book stands out to me in the modern fantasy landscape for two main reasons: the insular plot and the competent prose. While I love enormous worldbuilding with complex magic structures and appreciate that when the plot is the focus it's often not too bothersome if the prose falls on the backburner (I'm looking at you Brandon Sanderson and James Islington), Patrick Rothfuss reminded me I don't have to lower that standard. You can pull off a story of epic proportions slowly, and you can do it with line-level concentration.

I need to continue Kvothe's story (especially because the series is called The Kingkiller Chronicle and no kings have even been mentioned, let alone killed), but I am scared for the inevitable impasse I will face when I complete the sequel with no finale in sight 🥲.