Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Wise Man's Fear

Well worth the 3 hour wait in line to get Patrick Rothfuss' signature, his books are absolutely amazing.
"There are three things all wise men fear; the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man."
I just finished reading The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss, the sequel to The Name of the Wind. It's tough knowing that it's going be years before the third book in the trilogy comes out. I have to say, these are two of the best books I have ever read, and I'm a huge reader. It's a fantasy novel, but whether not you are a fan of the genre, I highly recommend reading these, the story is incredible, as are the characters, especially the main character, Kvothe.
     Then I played a song that hides in the center of me. That wordless music that moves through the secret places in my heart. I played it carefully, strumming it slow and low into the dark stillness of the night. I would like to say it is a happy song, that it is sweet and bright, but it is not.
     And, eventually, I stopped. The tips of my fingers burned and ached. It had been a month since I had played for any length of time, and they had lost their calluses.
     Looking up, I saw Vashet had pulled my shaed aside and was watching me. The moon hung behind her, and I could not see the expression on her face.
     "This is why I do not have knives instead of hands, Vashet," I said quietly. "This is what I am."

The Wise Man's Fear: The Kingkiller Chronicles, by Patrick Rothfuss
     And there it was. Like the name of an old friend that had simply slipped my mind for a moment. I looked out among the branches and I saw the wind. I spoke the long name of it gently, and the wind grew gentle. I breathed it out as a whisper, and for the first time since I had come to Haert the wind was quiet and utterly still.
     The Waystone Inn was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn's ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.


No comments:

Post a Comment