The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss is one of those gems that you read and then spend the next few days wondering why on earth no one is screaming about this book from every hill and dale. It's that good; in fact, I'd say it's the first contemporary high fantasy I've read that can stand alongside the likes of Tolkien, R.R. Martin, and Hobb and hold its own. I could go on lavishing praises on this book for an obscenely long period of time before ever getting to my review, however, so I'll cut it short. It's obvious I left this book adoring it and frantically grabbing at the sequel, but why?

A primary reason for this books success, I believe, if because Rothfuss is a master at what I think is probably the most important notion in any genre, but especially fantasy: authenticity. While all writers should try and make their work as authentic as possible, no genre so routinely falls into a cycle of repetition and recycling like fantasy. Too many times a writer will pull create an entire story with all the old gimmicks: elves, dwarves, dragons - you know what I mean. Of all genres I think it's a safe bet that the fantasy genre, above all others, suffers the most from a lack of ingenuity and thinking outside of the box. I get it: Tolkien deserves kudos. He arguably made the fantasy genre a legitimate form of literature in the eyes of the public single-handedly. But if a writer uses the basic template of this foundation for their writing, it's going to come out bland and unoriginal. That's where authenticity comes in, and that's why The Name of the Wind is not only a fantastic read, but a refreshing one.

I'm going to do my best to limit spoilers in my reviews while still giving a general idea of the things I enjoyed so much in this book so as to back up my point. You've been warned. Without further ado, let's jump in and see how Rothfuss's authenticity is key to the success of his writing.

First off, the world. Patrick Rothfuss's world-building skills are sublime. Right from the first page of Chapter One, Rothfuss is already subtly feeding the audience plot information in the form of legend and myth. Rothfuss's way of world-building is a simple yet effective approach: he weaves explanation of the unknown into his work through dialogue and story. Much of what is learned about the world is learned this way, and it is effective in keeping the reader from being confused or having to read pages of exposition in order to understand the background for what's going on. Rothfuss also cleverly allows us to discover many things alongside the characters, especially our main, Kvothe, as he goes to The University to learn all he can about the world. This dynamic of easy, unforced, organic explanation form a duo that allows us to quickly learn about the world and thus be invested. It's a tried and true method, to be sure, but it's one I've rarely seen as masterfully utilized as I have with this novel. It's impressive, to say the least.

The world itself is a colorful and vibrant landscape, with its racial and class distinctions, languages, traditions and legends, and cultures. Everything, from the stories and culture of the Edema Ruh to the tales of the Amyr and the laws of the Arcanum all coexist and serve to create a reality that is tangible and believable.

But Rothfuss is also a proficient balancer, and he doesn't let his world overpower his characters. Our protagonist, Kvothe, and all the people he meets through his life are fascinatingly intriguing and wonderfully human. Especially the ladies, which makes me so happy. Often times women get shirked in fantasy, filling roles at best as love interests for our male protagonist and at worst as bland sex appeal. Rothfuss does neither; in fact, his women are wonderfully varied and multi-faceted. Rothfuss even goes so far as to comment lightly on matters such as sexual assault and misogyny, choosing to shed some light on these topics rather than have his characters fall into the misogynistic tropes so often given to "heroic" characters. It's written in such a way that is never even remotely preachy or detracts from the narrative, but gives clear ideals as to the morality of the world and what is right and wrong in terms of violation and manner towards the opposite sex, and needless to say its very well done. This is the sort of fantasy novel I'd want my children to read as they entered their teenage years to learn good behavior and wholesome morals.

Of course our characters aren't shining paragons of virtue - they have their obvious human faults - but so often the way women or people of other races or sexual orientations (we'll get more into that in the next review) are treated either as jokes, cardboard cut-out fillers, or not mentioned at all. Recognizing and addressing issues like racism and sexism in your work not only speaks volumes to the readers and allows them to start making their own opinions, but simultaneously further builds your world. These sort of things would be noted in any universe and thus should be mentioned if only to further ground your narrative, all social commentary aside. But I love a little social commentary, especially in a genre that so routinely tends to avoid it rather than address it in any sense, so I was very happy with the subtle nods to the deplorability of rape and sexual coercion in any sense. These are just really great morals for young people to be exposed to, and what better place than in a fantastic alternate universe, right?!

Anyway, beyond the characters Rothfuss uses mystery and the unknown to his advantage. While I mean this in the general "who killed my parents" sort of thing, which is in the book, I also mean it in a broader setting. The world is a place filled with mystery and unexplained things lost to the tides of time. As Kvothe's journey takes him to find more of these secrets, we become more and more entranced with the world and with our own theories and musings of what Kvothe will find out. I think every good book could do with a little mystery once in awhile, but Rothfuss makes it a game of its own, using forgotten lore and legend to give us bits and pieces but not the whole picture, sitting us right beside Kvothe as we puzzle out what is missing.

But perhaps some of the best mystery making material comes at the audience right from the first page, through Rothfuss's unique template for the story, which begins in third person omniscient and then shifts to first person as Kvothe begins to tell his life story to the scribe Chronicler. While the majority of the book is in first person, we occasionally come out of Kvothe's retelling of his life story and into the "present day", which seems to be a dark and frightening world rife with danger and uncertainty. But more than that, and perhaps the most unnerving and unsettling of all, is the transformation that seems to have occurred to Kvothe somewhere in between the story he is telling us and the present day: the man in the present is but a shell of the witty, wisecracking and reckless youth who, for all his faults and troubles, seems to have hope and happiness in his life. The Kvothe of the present is a faded shell of the vibrant figure, and it leaves readers bubbling over with questions. What happened to Kvothe? What happened to the world that made it so dangerous, so seemingly desperate? And how does Kvothe play into it all? All of these questions and more make readers want to delve deeper into the story and continue reading. I was told once by one of my English professors that "tragedy is best marked at the beginning of a tale; if it is done there, it makes the rest of the story all the more bittersweet." I used to puzzle that over in my mind, wondering if it is truly superior, but this novel is a prime example of what my professor meant. By giving us this broken man and world in the beginning, everything that happens throughout not only piques our interest but is also tied back in to that over-arching question the audience constantly has in the back of their mind: where did it all go wrong? And that, readers, is a mark of good storytelling.

I feel I've rambled on long enough as to my praises of this book, and needless to say I have no real complaints. Sure, sometimes Rothfuss gets a little caught up in himself, I think; his prose gets overly flowery in some places, and in other places he repeats the same phrase in three times in one paragraph. But a lot f that I rationalized as realistic usage of the technique in which the story is written: it's literally supposed to be straight from the horses mouth, with no time for him to edit himself and make his words perfect. He's a good storyteller, but no ones perfect. And that, in itself, adds some authenticity.

The closest thing to a critique I have of this book is the fact that there is very little rising action or climax, but that sort of nitpicking is quickly tossed aside by the simple fact that the foundation this book lays for the rest in the series is so damn good. And who says writers have to stick to those dumb formulas, anyway? It works, and Rothfuss makes this book more interesting than countless fantasy I've read that was rife with huge battles and daring quests. It's all in the telling of the story, and Rothfuss, like his protagonist, is truly a master storyteller.