MY NAME IS KVOTHE
I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
You may have heard of me.
So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature–the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man’s search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.
The voice carries the story and makes the story. In anybody else’s hands, this would be nothing more than backstory, because there is precious little that actually happens in this book.
If I had not wanted to read this book to find out why authors like Terry Brooks and Ursula K. LeGuin blurbed the book, I wouldn’t have gotten past the first ten pages and wouldn’t have finished the book. It may take other readers less time to be snagged by Rothfuss’s voice, in which case they are going to settle in for a good solid read.
The Name of the Wind rates 4 out of 5.