I tried very hard to like this book. I wanted to like it. Critics liked it. Authors I enjoy liked it. But, try as I might, I did not agree with them.
Before I get into what I didn't like, I will take a moment to acknowledge what I thought Rothfuss did well.
GOOD STUFF
1. The structure of the book was neat: a renowned hero recounting his life and demystifying the stories surrounding him. I like the idea of an adult criticizing the actions and beliefs of his younger self (Jacqueline Carey does this nicely in Kushiel's Dart). And I like the idea of the narrator's story being recorded as he tells it.
2. The University setting was fun, even if it did feel too 20th century. I was excited to see a character attend school and slowly gain rank. (Unfortunately, Kvothe was promoted to graduate studies after about three days. Sorry, I'll save that for later; this section is supposed to be for Good Stuff.)
3. Elodin was the one character I really liked, even if he was peripheral. He was one of the few that stood out as an individual. Then again, he got Kvothe to jump off a building, which is always a plus in my book.
4. While Kvothe was not believable as a child when on the road with his parents or at the University (see Bad Stuff), he was believably young while living in Tarbean. I enjoyed this section of the book the most because it displayed his intelligence and resourcefulness through believable actions.
And that's all I have for Good Stuff. Sorry.
BAD STUFF
1. The gaudy plastic star at the top of this fake Christmas tree of a list of grievances is Kvothe himself. It would be an understatement to say that I did not like his character. I found him unbelievable and derivative and written. I felt no emotional investment in him. At no point in the story did I worry he would make it out okay. At no point did he surprise me.
One of my biggest problems with Kvothe was his age. He did not sound or act like a believable child (with the exception of Tarbean, as mentioned.) Moreover, he had to be a genius.
Why?
I am genuinely asking this. If you have an answer, let me know. So far, I have found no reason for Kvothe to be a child genius. It did not add anything to the story. There was no reason for him to learn so much adult material at age ten other than that it was a convenient time for him to do so. There was no reason for him to enter University at age fifteen other than that it was impressive. He didn't even act like a child or young teen. Why not age him so his thoughts and actions would make sense?
Even his perceptions of the world as a child were remarkably adult. For example, his descriptions of his parents focus on what a great couple they were, snippets of their sexual banter, how attractive his mother was, and his hoping that they had a good sex life. These are not the thoughts of a ten-year-old child. Nor were these thoughts filtered in the narration as the reminiscences of Adult Kvothe. Child Kvothe seemed to regard his parents as a romantic couple, rather than mom and dad, who love him but also cramp his style from time to time.
Kvothe's dialogue was far too adult and "witty" for his age. Show of hands, guys. How many of you gave perfectly polished speeches and witty retorts and spoke in well-received metaphors at age fifteen? I know I didn't. I could have forgiven a lot of this if Kvothe was portrayed as having a quick mouth but an immature mind, but even his moments of pride or stupidity still felt like the actions of an adult.
And, of course, he had to be a genius. Advanced medical and magical knowledge at age ten? No problem! He can't afford to pay tuition at University? That's okay, because Kvothe is just so gosh-darned impressive that the school pays him to attend. A teacher attempts to humiliate him in class? Not only does Kvothe teach the teacher a lesson, but he is allowed to skip his entire undergrad education, because he is just that smart. Kvothe participates in the city's most difficult musical challenge that takes talented musicians years to pass? He's so amazing that he succeeds on the first try, and the audience is literally crying at the beauty of his music.
Need I go on?
Yes, I do, because in addition to Kvothe's never having to struggle with learning something or mastering a concept, there are all sorts of horrible retcons explaining his talents. For example, at one point Kvothe (age ten or eleven) needs to survive alone in the wild for a few months. Ideally, this could be a good learning experience of trial and error, but then we get a few paragraphs explaining that, by the way, one time this dude traveled with Kvothe's family and taught him all about trapping and skinning animals, how to build a shelter, how to start a fire, and what plants are good to eat. And we learn this just a few paragraphs before Kvothe's survival. How convenient. This challenge is no longer a challenge because Kvothe knows exactly what to do.
Another example: Kvothe skips town to travel somewhere for plot reasons. He chooses to do this by traveling 70 miles on horseback in one day. (Yes, 70 miles in one day and on one horse. But that's not even the bad part.) Again, at this point in the story, I thought this could be a good challenge: struggling to ride through the elements, learning how to work with the horse, and facing obstacles along the way. But again, we get a neat aside about how, by the way, Kvothe is a master horseman, because he grew up with horses, and so he knows how to ride and care for them, and how to pick out a good horse for this kind of journey. And again, we learn this about a paragraph before he mounts the horse and rides off.
My problem with the above two examples is that Kvothe's "learned" skills become tidy deus ex machinas for the situations he has to overcome. Instead of learning how to survive in the wild, we are told that he already knows how to do that, so what was the point of making this a challenge? Instead of struggling to travel 70 miles with or without the constant demands of a horse, we are told that he is good at that too and he succeeds with little difficulty, taking all suspense and interest out of the scene. It would be one thing if, earlier and throughout the story, we saw him snaring rabbits or caring for his parents' horses (a.k.a. demonstrating his skills before they became necessary for the plot). The way these skills were presented felt cheap.
(Never mind that, even if he was a master horseman, riding 70 miles in one day would be hell on his body. Particularly after not riding for five years. And Kvothe was "sore" the next day? He should not have been able to walk.)
Not only is Kvothe a genius and talented at everything, but nothing in his narrative voice suggests that we are listening to the brain of a genius. Nothing in his diction, rhythm, or tone indicates this. I could accept a genius character if his voice reflected an unusual mind, but Kvothe pretty much just sounded like an everyman.
I became so tired of Kvothe's perfection, of how impressive and smart he was, of how he breezed past obstacles that could have been character-building. He is one of the clearest examples of a Gary Stu I have ever read.
2. I was going to call this category "portrayal of women," but women are not really a part of this story. They exist to give birth (Kvothe's mom), be rescued (Fela), or fawn over Kvothe in wonder (pretty much every woman in the book). The only female character we spend much time with is Denna, so this category is for her.
I found Denna to be spectacularly dull. I did not understand what Kvothe saw in her other than that she was hot. Attempts to make her mysterious and intriguing did not work for me. She is a pretty face hopping from man to man for money. (And, supposedly, she's really smart, so why doesn't she go to University too? Or get a job?)
The passages devoted to Kvothe and Denna alone together were the most boring parts of the book. For being a couple of fifteen-year-olds, their dialogue was crammed with big metaphors and polished, "witty" one-liners.
I was going to make suggestions on improving her character, but at this point, I don't care. She could have a dark backstory and I wouldn't care. She could be one of the freaking Chandrian and I wouldn't care. I cannot stress enough how much I didn't care about this character, and that's probably one of the worst things I could say about a work of fiction.
3. While I did like the structure of the book (opening in third-person present day, switching to Kvothe's first-person narrative of his past), it did have its problems. Namely, the characters in the present day were poorly developed. I would have liked to know more about Bast and the Chronicler; hell, from their few interactions, I'd like to read a book just about them.
Throughout the book, the narrative returns to Bast and the Chronicler. At these points, Kvothe clears up misconceptions and foreshadows later events, which was fun, even if his dialogue was plagued with too many permutations of "If this was a story, XYZ would happen, but this is not a story." The narrative usually returned to Bast and the Chronicler after dramatic things were recounted from Kvothe's life, and we saw their reactions.
Did Kvothe just tell them something funny? Then Bast and the Chronicler are roaring with laughter. Did Kvothe relay how he did something amazing and clever? Then his listeners are wide-eyed in awe. Did Kvothe reveal something sad? Then they are crying huge tears of sorrow, and the Chronicler is wiping his eyes on the back of his hand, and Bast is croaking, "I never knew!" on repeat.
The lampshading in this book was pretty bad.
I do not like the author telling me how to feel, thanks. If an event in the book is truly sad and written well, then I will touch on my own sad experiences and bond with the characters. But being shown how Kvothe's audience laughed and cried at everything he shared with them felt a lot like watching a sitcom with a laugh track. This was made even worse when Bast would exclaim how sad an event in Kvothe's life was, and then Kvothe would say something along the lines of, "Yes, it was terrible, but I still did not know real sorrow because even worse was yet to come."
Stop. Readers engage with emotions eagerly. You do not need to tell us how we should be reacting.
4. This book felt largely plotless. Yes, it is the first installment of a trilogy and thus an incomplete fraction of Kvothe's life. But a good book can stand alone, even if it is part of a larger work. In a well written and well plotted series, one book will contribute to the overarching plot, but also resolve its own.
There was no definable plot here. "Kvothe grows up in a few different places and goes to school" is not a plot. "Kvothe wants to learn the truth about the Chandrian but learns pretty much nothing about them" is not a plot.
Arguably, since this trilogy is a recording of Kvothe's life, it doesn't need a plot. After all, my life doesn't have a definable plot. But I think that argument can only extend so far in fiction. A book is not real life. The story needs to have a shape.
Kvothe's accumulation of skills and knowledge did not equip him to handle a major threat at the end of the book. His time at the University did not culminate in a big struggle for him to come out on top of (only minor incidents). He didn't learn much about the Chandrian. We still know nothing about Denna and things between her and Kvothe haven't changed. Kvothe did come to terms with his grief, but that happened about halfway through the book.
Moreover, his struggles were mostly comprised of outside forces, such as being poor or bullies being mean to him. With a few exceptions, I did not feel that he grew as a character from overcoming these obstacles. Some of this is due to the aforementioned retcons (by the way, Kvothe is a master horseman, despite us never seeing evidence of this in the previous 500 pages.) And some of this is due to how he overcomes his external obstacles in external ways.
Crisis! Kvothe is so poor that he cannot afford room and board at University. Good thing he succeeds at that super difficult music competition on the first try, thus giving him bragging rights and the ability to play for money pretty much anywhere in the city.
Crisis! A giant, vegetarian dragon is chasing him down. Good thing Kvothe literally stumbled upon barrels and barrels of a lethal drug to knock the beast out.
Crisis! Kvothe is banned from the University Archives. Good thing he happens to meet this weird woman who lives in the underbelly of the school, and who can show him a secret entrance to he Archives.
And the like.
There's nothing necessarily wrong with these struggles--except that they happen over and over and over again. Very rarely does Kvothe face problems brought on by his own arrogance/stupidity/etc.; it's just the World hurling problems at him. And I, for one, appreciate characters who have agency--both to get themselves out of trouble, but into more plot. I am even more appreciative of characters who breathe, make mistakes, and change.
I did not get this from Kvothe. The Kvothe I met at the start of the book (for either timeline) was the same as the Kvothe I ran away from on the last page. When I stood Beginning Kvothe and Ending Kvothe side by side, I couldn't tell the difference.
The character did not have enough agency to shape a gripping plot, and the plot did not shape a gripping character.
This book did not have enough of a shape for me.
ULTIMATELY...
While I did not like this book, at the very least, I can credit it for demonstrating errors to avoid in my own writing.
I know a lot of people loved this book, and I would like to know why. Genuinely. Tell me what I'm missing.