First, the good stuff. Rothfuss has solid line-level writing skills. His worldbuilding is adequate, and his system of magic good. He understands the concept of using conflict and tension to drive story. He knows how to trickle interesting details to the reader. Thus, Rothfuss has succeeded at producing a readable novel.
I say that because the remainder of this review will make you think this is the worst book ever written, which it isn’t. Since I think we as writers learn best from mistakes, I’m going to focus on the novel’s flaws.
The novel’s greatest shortcoming is structural. Rothfuss chooses to intertwine two stories about the same protagonist, each occurring at a different time and written in a different style. The novel opens with a reasonably entertaining tale about a retired fantasy hero named Kvothe, whom an old wizard must convince to come out of retirement to help out with a demon war or something. Unfortunately, Rothfuss repeatedly interrupts this story with lengthy digressions into the hero’s backstory, beginning with childhood and eventually progressing to mid-adolescence. Worse, Kvothe’s backstory seems to be irrelevant to the primary story. Imagine reading a novel where a fantasy-style prolog consumes every other chapter. No justification for this structure appears in the novel. Later novels in the series may explain why Kvothe’s past matters, but I wouldn’t bet on that.
Really, Rothfuss should’ve spent more time on the “present.” This may happen later in the series, after the backstory finally comes to a close.
Kvothe is, by the way, a Marty Stu turned up to eleven (on a one-to-ten scale). He’s book-smart, an impossibly quick learner, beautiful, extraordinarily strong in magic, and talented in many forms of artistic expression. Rothfuss doesn’t hesitate to beat you over the head with his hero’s near-perfection. Other than a smidgeon of arrogance, Kvothe’s only plot-relevant flaw is his naivete, which is often frustrating rather than endearing. For example, this naivete may be the only reason he doesn’t have sex with the many young women who blatantly express interest in him. He lacks the wisdom to use any of his vast selection of skills to propel himself from poverty.
Backing up for a moment, the cliché storm appears in full force when a group of demons kills his parents and destroys his village. Cue the revenge plot. Now, I’m going to touch on a few of my major complaints.
What do gifted young magicians do in this fictional world? Why, they go to Hogwarts. I mean, The University. Sorry. After Kvothe earns admission to wizardry school with his astounding brilliance, Rothfuss introduces us to characters Master Severus Hemme and Ambrose Malfoy. Oops, I think I got the names wrong. Oh well. I bet you can guess what happens during these chapters.
Kvothe even has a love interest. Her name is . . . actually, I’m not sure what her name is. She calls herself many names, all of which begin with the letter D, and I don’t think she ever makes it clear which is her real name. That probably tells you all you need to know about her, but I’m not that merciful. Love Interest D spends the novel either stringing Kvothe along or believing he’s gay. I’m not sure which. You have to read it to see what I mean. She’s terribly cruel to him in any case, but he puts up with it.
Hey, whatever happened to those demons that killed Kvothe’s parents? Hell if I know. They don’t make another appearance in the novel. The closest Kvothe ever gets is the aftermath of another of their crimes.
Instead, Rothfuss treats us to a little subplot about a mundane dragon (draccus) hopped up on hallucinogenic tree sap. The story was nice enough, but it isn’t immediately relevant to anything else that has happened in the novel. I have a suspicion something about the draccus will matter to the resolution of the conflict with the demons, but that’s pure speculation on my part.
Ultimately, Rothfuss ties up no story threads. He provides no satisfaction. This is absolutely not a standalone work. Then the novel simply ends with a faux-artistic bit, a counterpart to the opening.
Tender, loving care from an editor with a delete key and/or a red pen could’ve saved this book. Sadly, Rothfuss doesn’t give much reason to pick up the second book. He has his mechanics down pat, but his storytelling needs some help. In time, I believe he can mature into a good writer.
Oh gods, this review was delightfully satisfying to write. Honestly, it was. Rothfuss obviously did something correctly if I was willing to type all this out.
I say that because the remainder of this review will make you think this is the worst book ever written, which it isn’t. Since I think we as writers learn best from mistakes, I’m going to focus on the novel’s flaws.
The novel’s greatest shortcoming is structural. Rothfuss chooses to intertwine two stories about the same protagonist, each occurring at a different time and written in a different style. The novel opens with a reasonably entertaining tale about a retired fantasy hero named Kvothe, whom an old wizard must convince to come out of retirement to help out with a demon war or something. Unfortunately, Rothfuss repeatedly interrupts this story with lengthy digressions into the hero’s backstory, beginning with childhood and eventually progressing to mid-adolescence. Worse, Kvothe’s backstory seems to be irrelevant to the primary story. Imagine reading a novel where a fantasy-style prolog consumes every other chapter. No justification for this structure appears in the novel. Later novels in the series may explain why Kvothe’s past matters, but I wouldn’t bet on that.
Really, Rothfuss should’ve spent more time on the “present.” This may happen later in the series, after the backstory finally comes to a close.
Kvothe is, by the way, a Marty Stu turned up to eleven (on a one-to-ten scale). He’s book-smart, an impossibly quick learner, beautiful, extraordinarily strong in magic, and talented in many forms of artistic expression. Rothfuss doesn’t hesitate to beat you over the head with his hero’s near-perfection. Other than a smidgeon of arrogance, Kvothe’s only plot-relevant flaw is his naivete, which is often frustrating rather than endearing. For example, this naivete may be the only reason he doesn’t have sex with the many young women who blatantly express interest in him. He lacks the wisdom to use any of his vast selection of skills to propel himself from poverty.
Backing up for a moment, the cliché storm appears in full force when a group of demons kills his parents and destroys his village. Cue the revenge plot. Now, I’m going to touch on a few of my major complaints.
What do gifted young magicians do in this fictional world? Why, they go to Hogwarts. I mean, The University. Sorry. After Kvothe earns admission to wizardry school with his astounding brilliance, Rothfuss introduces us to characters Master Severus Hemme and Ambrose Malfoy. Oops, I think I got the names wrong. Oh well. I bet you can guess what happens during these chapters.
Kvothe even has a love interest. Her name is . . . actually, I’m not sure what her name is. She calls herself many names, all of which begin with the letter D, and I don’t think she ever makes it clear which is her real name. That probably tells you all you need to know about her, but I’m not that merciful. Love Interest D spends the novel either stringing Kvothe along or believing he’s gay. I’m not sure which. You have to read it to see what I mean. She’s terribly cruel to him in any case, but he puts up with it.
Hey, whatever happened to those demons that killed Kvothe’s parents? Hell if I know. They don’t make another appearance in the novel. The closest Kvothe ever gets is the aftermath of another of their crimes.
Instead, Rothfuss treats us to a little subplot about a mundane dragon (draccus) hopped up on hallucinogenic tree sap. The story was nice enough, but it isn’t immediately relevant to anything else that has happened in the novel. I have a suspicion something about the draccus will matter to the resolution of the conflict with the demons, but that’s pure speculation on my part.
Ultimately, Rothfuss ties up no story threads. He provides no satisfaction. This is absolutely not a standalone work. Then the novel simply ends with a faux-artistic bit, a counterpart to the opening.
Tender, loving care from an editor with a delete key and/or a red pen could’ve saved this book. Sadly, Rothfuss doesn’t give much reason to pick up the second book. He has his mechanics down pat, but his storytelling needs some help. In time, I believe he can mature into a good writer.
Oh gods, this review was delightfully satisfying to write. Honestly, it was. Rothfuss obviously did something correctly if I was willing to type all this out.
