An Autobiography of a Fantasy Hero
Mar. 15th, 2012 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtvesselSep 2011
The Name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss - Gollancz, 2007
* * * * *
There is a formula for writing genre novel back-cover blurbs. Most mention the name of the main character in the first full sentence and go on to describe the original features of the world and the heroes and villains. The final sentence starts with “But” and often ends in an ellipsis... This has become such a cliché that various automated generators have sprung up on the web. The blurb for this book is a bit different. It is written in first person and describes some things that the narrator claims to have done, such as burning down a town, being expelled at a very young age from university, and talking to gods. It ends “My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me.” My interest was piqued, despite the stupidly unpronounceable name.
Unusually, the blurb is a good reflection of a book that takes a similarly refreshing approach to the business of epic fantasy. This is not the first autobiography of a fantasy hero that has been written (Robin Hobb’s Assassin series comes to mind for a start), but, for this book at least, it is certainly the best.
The first interesting feature is the elaborate nature of the framing story. This is set in that most tired of fantasy settings, a tavern in the middle of nowhere (there is a map, but it only includes significant places and is largely useless). The tavern’s owner soon turns out to be the eponymous Kvothe, and we are told in the prologue that he is waiting to die. He is accompanied by Bast, a young man who is clearly not what he seems. The third main character is Chronicler, a scribe whom Kvothe saves from demons called scrael and to whom he decides to tell his life story. The narrative cuts back to these characters quite frequently but as yet there is no obvious connection with the story that Kvothe is telling. As a foreshadowing device, however, it is unusually effective.
Kvothe’s history is complex and interesting. His early years are spent in a travelling band called the Edema Ruh (a little like Diana Wynne Jones’ book Cart and Cwidder), but there are also episodes set in the city of Tarbean, and the University plays a major role later on. These locations enable Kvothe to develop his skills in music, magic and roguery, three essential attributes for any self-respecting fantasy hero. Swordplay, we are told, comes later.
Characters of note include Denna, a strong-willed love interest, and various students and masters at the university. Then there is the Chandrian, a group of seven evil men, or spirits, or demons, who are mentioned only in folk tales and religious stories and who appear to be the main antagonists.
So far, there probably isn’t a lot here to suggest that this is anything more than a run-of-the-mill fantasy. What marks this book out, though, is the quality of the writing and the care that has gone into the storytelling. The best compliment I can pay Rothfuss as a writer is that until an ill-advised use of the word “pants” somewhere around page 100, I could not tell which side of the pond he was from. The cadences of his sentences have an elegance that I usually associate with the best British or Irish writers rather than the more straightforward (but undoubtedly effective) prose of our American cousins. Even the poems and childrens’ rhymes are quite reasonable.
As noted, the world itself wouldn’t win any prizes for originality, but the culture is unusually deep and full of little touches. There appear to be three sorts of magic: sympathy, which is alchemical in nature, True Name magic a la Earthsea, and otherworldly (or maybe not?) beings called the Fae. Exactly how these three intersect is not entirely clear. Indeed, one of the nice features is the way that Rothfuss is so sparing with the data dumps. There are a lot of mysteries in his world but also a lot of hints about what is going on. The religion is based around a generic namer/creator called Aleph and is largely kept off-stage, but contributes an origin story for the Chandrian that may or may not be true. Politics and history are similarly downplayed, which is reasonable for a fantasy so firmly centred on character.
In a sense this book is one massive prologue, but unlike, say The Blade Itself, it isn’t annoying because it is so intriguing and Kvothe himself so likeable, despite being ridiculously talented at pretty much everything that he does. As with so many fantasies by young male writers, it is a shame that there are not more women - Denna herself is a perfectly decent character with a few mysteries of her own, but doesn’t play any significant role in the story other than as a love interest.
Basically, this novel does in spades what a good fantasy ought to do and evokes a world in which the reader would like to live and a character that they would like to be. The mysteries linger in the mind long after the book is finished and I for one am eager to see if the promises made can possibly be fulfilled in a non-disappointing fashion in the subsequent volumes. If they can, then this could be a classic.
The Name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss - Gollancz, 2007
* * * * *
There is a formula for writing genre novel back-cover blurbs. Most mention the name of the main character in the first full sentence and go on to describe the original features of the world and the heroes and villains. The final sentence starts with “But” and often ends in an ellipsis... This has become such a cliché that various automated generators have sprung up on the web. The blurb for this book is a bit different. It is written in first person and describes some things that the narrator claims to have done, such as burning down a town, being expelled at a very young age from university, and talking to gods. It ends “My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me.” My interest was piqued, despite the stupidly unpronounceable name.
Unusually, the blurb is a good reflection of a book that takes a similarly refreshing approach to the business of epic fantasy. This is not the first autobiography of a fantasy hero that has been written (Robin Hobb’s Assassin series comes to mind for a start), but, for this book at least, it is certainly the best.
The first interesting feature is the elaborate nature of the framing story. This is set in that most tired of fantasy settings, a tavern in the middle of nowhere (there is a map, but it only includes significant places and is largely useless). The tavern’s owner soon turns out to be the eponymous Kvothe, and we are told in the prologue that he is waiting to die. He is accompanied by Bast, a young man who is clearly not what he seems. The third main character is Chronicler, a scribe whom Kvothe saves from demons called scrael and to whom he decides to tell his life story. The narrative cuts back to these characters quite frequently but as yet there is no obvious connection with the story that Kvothe is telling. As a foreshadowing device, however, it is unusually effective.
Kvothe’s history is complex and interesting. His early years are spent in a travelling band called the Edema Ruh (a little like Diana Wynne Jones’ book Cart and Cwidder), but there are also episodes set in the city of Tarbean, and the University plays a major role later on. These locations enable Kvothe to develop his skills in music, magic and roguery, three essential attributes for any self-respecting fantasy hero. Swordplay, we are told, comes later.
Characters of note include Denna, a strong-willed love interest, and various students and masters at the university. Then there is the Chandrian, a group of seven evil men, or spirits, or demons, who are mentioned only in folk tales and religious stories and who appear to be the main antagonists.
So far, there probably isn’t a lot here to suggest that this is anything more than a run-of-the-mill fantasy. What marks this book out, though, is the quality of the writing and the care that has gone into the storytelling. The best compliment I can pay Rothfuss as a writer is that until an ill-advised use of the word “pants” somewhere around page 100, I could not tell which side of the pond he was from. The cadences of his sentences have an elegance that I usually associate with the best British or Irish writers rather than the more straightforward (but undoubtedly effective) prose of our American cousins. Even the poems and childrens’ rhymes are quite reasonable.
As noted, the world itself wouldn’t win any prizes for originality, but the culture is unusually deep and full of little touches. There appear to be three sorts of magic: sympathy, which is alchemical in nature, True Name magic a la Earthsea, and otherworldly (or maybe not?) beings called the Fae. Exactly how these three intersect is not entirely clear. Indeed, one of the nice features is the way that Rothfuss is so sparing with the data dumps. There are a lot of mysteries in his world but also a lot of hints about what is going on. The religion is based around a generic namer/creator called Aleph and is largely kept off-stage, but contributes an origin story for the Chandrian that may or may not be true. Politics and history are similarly downplayed, which is reasonable for a fantasy so firmly centred on character.
In a sense this book is one massive prologue, but unlike, say The Blade Itself, it isn’t annoying because it is so intriguing and Kvothe himself so likeable, despite being ridiculously talented at pretty much everything that he does. As with so many fantasies by young male writers, it is a shame that there are not more women - Denna herself is a perfectly decent character with a few mysteries of her own, but doesn’t play any significant role in the story other than as a love interest.
Basically, this novel does in spades what a good fantasy ought to do and evokes a world in which the reader would like to live and a character that they would like to be. The mysteries linger in the mind long after the book is finished and I for one am eager to see if the promises made can possibly be fulfilled in a non-disappointing fashion in the subsequent volumes. If they can, then this could be a classic.