I guess I thought about this, mentally composed a post, and published it to the ever floating ether that flits about the inside of my head. Stupid imagination. I am certain, at the very least, that I mentioned the book to Ricker way back when, but I guess I never got around to actually sharing my opinion here. Oops.
With mass market release this month a couple of late reviews of Patrick Rothfuss’ debut novel (that distinction is important since his earlier published short fiction made him ineligible for a best debut nomination last year which was complete bull) The Name of the Wind. I won’t belabor you with too much unabashed praise but, in a genre for which my enthusiasm has waned (some at least), The Name of the Wind stands as one of the best fantasy novels I’ve read. Ever. It has it’s flaws, no doubt about that, but the quality of the language and seeming revelry Rothfuss has in crafting his tale for you made the pages fly by and left me wanting more.
Which is sad since personal events in Mr. Rothfuss’ life have delayed the sequel for at least another year. But if having Mr. Rothfuss’ at his mental best and taking his time writing the novel means turning out a piece of fiction equal to, or even better, than the Name of the Wind than it is certainly worth it. It helps that Patrick Rothfuss is also a nerd to the T; a fellow Whedonite and a believer in the inherent potential of video games as an artistic medium. So I can’t really be mad about waiting.
John’s review over at Grasping for the Wind was the initial prompt for this post. For a counterpoint and harsher critique there is a review over at SF Site as well. Give them a quick look and don’t hesitate to check out The Name of the Wind.