This is a good tale—a chronicle of my travels and adventures with Kvothe, the legendary hero who has stolen princesses, talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.
The saga of Kvothe awakened my passion that had become quiescent for more than a decade—my zest to reading. When I met him, he enchanted me with his unique wit, cunning thoughts, and most of all, his sympathy and powerful binding techniques. Eventually, he detained me in Patrick Rothfuss’ magical pages.
As I begin my journey with this charming and spirited character, I uncovered that every leaf of The Name of the Wind eagerly breaks the monotony of the books of the same genre. It is all-encompassing—a distinctively outlined portrayal of life’s parable and family relationship, of travel adventures and personal wanderlust, of friendship and fleeting acquaintances, of en route impediments and life-altering circumstances, of grief face due to loss and power of emancipation, of a quest for truths and period of revelations, of pedagogic struggles and life’s gambles, of the pulsating gusto of youth’s heart and curiosity of a fervent mind, of the land of enchantment and hideous mysteries, and of a young man’s search for meaning and struggle for survival, a legend that is so captivating.
Full of vigor and an unquenchable lust for knowledge, Kvothe is someone you would like to know. He is one of the Edema Ruh, court performers, whose parents were great with their own unique gifts. Growing up in the center of an endless fair was a happy memory of his childhood—he grew up in words and songs that linger in his heart forever. His first teachers were his parents, but he found a strange, exciting figure in the first arcanist he met. The man who opened his mind to almost everything—his first real mentor, the one who helped him become the man he is today.
It’s weird, but I have witnessed everything that Kvothe went through. His true expedition neither begins nor ends in the courts, performing. The reason why he has to go to the University became the door to his real wide-ranging pursuit—a search for meaning in his universe. He wanted to know the name of the wind so that he can call it by himself. He wanted to avenge his parents’ and troupe’s death. He wanted to know the truth and learn more about Tarbolin the Great, the wizard who knew the name of all things—who could call down fire and lightning. Subsequently, he would discover more than that—things and happenings beyond his mind could ever imagine. I had seen his willpower; I had seen him learned his way to becoming a myth that would hark back anyone to a time when Kvothe carved his name in history.
Can you imagine a young man burning a town? Who can spend a night in a realm where the ruler is known to take away men’s sanity and life, and leave still having both? Who will have the wit to get accepted in the University, and then expelled from it, at an age younger than anyone allowed in? Who has the backbone to thread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during the day? Kvothe did. He is wise—but after all, he also has fears. And in our next adventure, I will tell you about The Wise Man’s Fear.
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