Before we get started I want to highlight something interesting that was brought up in the comments section of the previous post by Braak:
The more you go back through this, the less convinced I am that Rothfuss actually has very much of an idea about what folklore is or how it works, which makes it seem a little weird that this would be the espoused point of his novel.
The point of the trilogy is supposed to be the intersection of legend and reality, but Rothfuss doesn’t seem to understand how legends come about. In the framing story we’re told that Kvothe is a legendary figure of legendary legendness; in the flashback to his childhood we’re told that he’s super gifted and talented at everything, to the point that Ben tells his parents he’s more or less guaranteed to ascend to greatness in any field he enters. This essentially renders the entire trilogy pointless- Kvothe was destined to become a living legend, he became a living legend. Everything in between is just a series of artificial road blocks set up to delay the inevitable.
(If there’s any talk about actual destiny or prophecies I’m going to track down Rothfuss and clothesline him hard enough to open a rift into the Earth’s mantle)
IN THE WAYSTONE INN there was a silence.
Not enough detail: did not describe how many parts the silence consists of and the dimensional relationship between them. 2/10, would not destroy the English language again.
Back in the present, Kvothe is thirsty after talking about how great he is for hours on end. I have to wonder if Devan is like “man what a fucking toolbox, why did I agree to this”.
“I can offer you almost anything, dark ale, pale wine, spiced cider, chocolate, coffee. . . .”
See my previous point about fantasy worlds conforming to historical expectations. I doubt Kvothe would actually have chocolate and coffee here. Devan himself actually points this out, but I guess Kvothe is such a legendary innkeeper that he can get his hands on anything. Maybe he has a magic portal or something, I don’t know.
(I haven’t quoted any of it but the text does in fact go out of its way to point out how awesome and clean the Waystone is, because being a genius makes you good at manual labour and cooking as well)
Bast comes into the Inn and Devan starts to stare at him intently. He comes to some sort of realization and pulls an iron disk out of his shirt and UH OH I THINK BAST MIGHT BE LIKE A MAGIC GUY
Specifically he’s one of “the Folk”. Kind of thought he was going to be a Chandrian, which would have been interesting.
“Iron,” he said. His voice sounding with strange resonance, as if it were an order to be obeyed.
Bast doubled over as if punched in the stomach, baring his teeth and making a noise halfway between a growl and a scream.
So wait, does he react that way toward any iron, or just iron presented with “strange resonance”? Because lots of stuff is made out of iron. Dude would be getting migraines every day. I hope Kvothe is paying him extra for that.
Kvothe steps in and manages to convince the two to stop trying to murder each other long enough to form a tenuous bromance.
They moved to a larger table as Kvothe brought the platters out, bustling about and looking every bit the innkeeper. Chronicler watched him covertly, finding it hard to believe that this man humming to himself and cutting sausage could be the same person who had stood behind the bar just minutes ago, dark-eyed and terrible.
Terrible is a fair adjective. I would have also gone with “annoying”, “pompous”, “arrogant”, “insufferable”, “one-dimensional”, “poorly-written”, “bland” or “cliched”, but I’m not a writer so what do I know.
Bast decides to join in with story-time. I’m wondering how Kvothe thought he was going to keep him distracted for three whole days.
“Let’s get back to it then. Brace yourselves, the story takes a turn now. Downward. Darker. Clouds on the horizon.”
Do the Chandrian come and wreck up his shit? Because I’d like to see that.