Book Review: The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

I finally read The Name of the Wind. I kept putting it off because when it came out, I was tired of epic fantasy and read old sci-fi books. Now I’m glad I went back and read it. Patrick Rothfuss knows how to write. The opening was amazing. It had that sang feeling. But I have to say I think I’ve read my share of epic fantasy as the story even when it was so so so well made did nothing for me. Actually, the main character’s perfection annoyed me. Not enough to hate him and not enough to stop reading, but I want more imperfect characters. I’m twisted that way.

I went in thinking this is your typical growing up story, and it was, but behind it all there was love. And it surprised me at how dominant it was. It is a kind of funny how everything boils down to it. How much most of us need it to feel whole and happy. Take love away, any love [family, romantic, brotherly/sisterly/friendship, and love for something meaningful (a craft or something else which gives one the sense of purpose)], and what is left is a half-finished person who founds life meaningless and too horrible to bear. When I grew up, I thought love was irrelevant and took it for granted from my family. Now I understand it is what carries us through all the pumps in life. So yes, I get why Patrick Rothfuss put so much importance for Kvothe’s destiny which continues on. His story was just right.

The Name of the Wind is one of the best epic fantasy books, and I would have liked to read it when I was a teenager. I would have fallen in love with it in a different way. Now I want something rawer.

Thank you for reading!