Name of the Wind

by Mike Shea on 20 April 2008

I just finished reading "" by Patrick Rothfuss. I've been reading it bit by bit over the past few months, enjoying the warm taste of it a little bit at a time right before bed. It is the sort of book that feels like a warm pillow, inviting but comfortable. Today I finished reading the last one hundred pages in a final plunge and now I'm sort of sad that its over.

finds a startling balance between the whimsical fantasy of Harry Potter and the sharp realism of George R.R. Martin. The story manages to avoid Rowling's plot devices and contrived story arcs instead flowing into a story based on realistic outcomes. It is a story that lives on its own, clearly written as it flowed rather than following a pre-determined path. Though it clearly follows George R.R. Martin's interwoven storyline, making no apologies to the way life moves forward, it contains little of the gritty sharp edge that might turn many away from Martin's most excellent series.

breaks the fantasy cliches I hate most. There is no young farmer boy who ends up being a hero of the world. There is no party of adventurers. Each thread of the story doesn't necessarily find a nice neat little knot at the end. is a book that feels like a man's life. It is relaxed and powerful and wonderful. The language is clean and flows easily, making the 670 page book feel like one much smaller.

is Rothfuss's first published novel and its a powerhouse. I don't exactly remember how it made its way onto my shelf but I'm glad it did. I loved every page and I recommend it highly.