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A review by ruggedbroad
The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss
5.0
We Have to Talk About Pat
The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss was under the tree for me this year and it wasn’t a surprise. We had gone to the local bookstore on our annual, local holiday shop and I spotted its fresh cover in the fantasy section with a gasp. I hadn’t heard anything about it (but that’s not impressive, since I don’t follow his blog – I’m not a gamer and twitch streaming is about as far away from what I find interesting as it gets). My husband shooed me away and the jig was up. Only had to wait a few weeks until I could read it. Fast-forward to today, when I’ve read it and Pat’s author’s note at the end, and revisted Pat’s blog, and now feel compelled to write a response to everything I know. This is more that than a review, and there are a few spoilers forthcoming.
What I didn’t know, squeaking with joy in the bookstore, was that The Narrow Road Between Desires is an expansive edition of “The Lightning Tree”, a short story I read ten years ago. I was immediately disappointed reading the book jacket after tearing off it’s Christmas wrap, because I felt the original short story was perfect, a glimpse into the day of a beloved character from a beloved book. The original story illustrated Bast’s Fae-ness wonderfully and explained what he was doing when he wasn’t in the scenes at The Wayfarer (you didn’t even know you missed him until he came bursting, or sneaking, right onto center stage). I loved “The Lightning Tree”, my son (to whom I read the story several times) loved it. When I realized, holding the new-old story, that I wasn’t getting another day in the life of Bast, I was just getting the blinds pulled back on the one I had already seen, I grumbled and complained. I started reading right away but don’t remember the first part of the book, so far behind my own disgruntlement was I sitting.
Taking a step back here, I’d like to explain the gleeful excitement that I felt in the bookstore, seeing a new volume with Patrick Rothfuss’s name on it. Basically, I’m his biggest fan. I’ve read The Name of The Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear more times than I’ve read literally any other book(s) in my entire life. There are a few other authors that I have read half as much (and for many of the same reasons that I will lay out here), but Pat is my bard of choice. His writing gets my attention repeatedly. Just holding one of his novels in my hands is like a magical key that turns me into a child at the feet of a master storyteller (an actual scene in his book, so I know he knows how I feel). He transports me to a different place. I stay up late to read. I put off more important things to read. I feel both full and empty when I finish the story. Then a year or two later, I happily go through it all again. His work is the epitome of what I believe an adult tall tale should be: the cadence, the use of language, the enigmatic and charming main character, the barely-fleshed but important side-characters (Elodin! When will there be a novella about Elodin?), mildly evil classmates and horribly evil parent-killers, heart-pounding and often unexpected action, a vibrantly-coloured universe, and, for these characters in this story in this world, the structure. It’s what the humanities is all about: history, religion, culture, wars, good-against-evil, and a poor, first-year university student to take you through it all as he experiences it. There are many, many similar stories out there, but Pat does something that, I believe, is vastly different: he sets the entire chaotic, colourful, fanciful thing inside a box with three parts.
Everything in this magical universe revolves around those three parts: silence, turnings, charms, curses, good, evil, etc. Once the three have clicked into place, fate is sealed. One is confined by the three, one is freed by the three. It’s brilliant. Then Pat pulls it meta and tells the story in three parts: three days, three parts of the tale, three BOOKS. And herein lies our problem with Pat, methinks.
At the end of the second book, Kvothe the character is still, what, fifteen years old? Kote the innkeeper, however, seems middle-aged. Character Kvothe has taken a leave from university. He has gone off on a journey (part one: stranger comes to town, part two…you get the drift). He is trying desperately to find his girl (the only character I don’t like in the books, actually) and seems to be gaining very little ground on the Chandrian. There is very, very little in common with character Kvothe and innkeeper Kote at the Wayfarer, who is obviously much older, much sadder, much maligned. Where did Bast come from? Where are all his university friends? How on EARTH will Pat rectify this in one book? The pressure must be monumental. My fifteen-year-old son encapsulated it yesterday: “I would rather not finish it, than finish it badly and have all that rage directed at me.”
THIS is why we need to talk about Pat. I am annoyed by the vitriol and hate directed at this man, an artist. He has delivered several manuscripts; two novels, a novella, a short story, and now an edited version of that short story (which likely puts it in novella territory). This latest edition of Bast’s private world (which adds colour to the existing universe and the existing story of Kvothe) has been panned online because it’s not new. Likely because it’s not the third installment of the Kingkiller series. I did it myself (although just to myself) when I started reading. My father-in-law called Pat an “asshole” when we got talking about this online vitriol, both because he likes to set me off and because he and my mother-in-law have read the books, which I passed to them because I thought they would love the story. He loves the story so much that he hates Pat for not finishing it (yet). These folks are even from the “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” generation.
I find this very strange and unfair, and stupid. From my recent read of his author’s note at the end of The Narrow Road and quick trip to his website, Pat is a hairy, D&D disciple, twitch-streaming dad. He is a brilliant wordsmith who has been running a successful charity and helping folks sell their arts and crafts and start bookstores. He has a real life, and it doesn’t sound like he’s jetting around Europe. It sounds mostly like he’s reading books to and playing games with his kids. It sounds like he knows he is roundly despised because he CAN’T finish his stuff on time or on target (and he seems to feel quite bad about it, to the point of depression). But there is no doubt: it is HIS stuff. It’s HIS art. If he can’t create it, it doesn’t exist. It is not yours until it’s in your hands. Like Neil Gaiman said to rabid fans of George RR (hating for the same reason): “[he] is not your bitch” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mkjBwG72Jw).
Let’s come back to The Narrow Road Between Desires. Once I let go of my own negativity, I recognized how worthwhile this re-writing exercise must have been for Pat. First, I think it’s important to state that I was negative because “The Lightning Tree”, in my mind, was a perfect short story. It already BELONGED to me as a favourite. It was a glimpse. It was fast-paced. It focused on a very mysterious character from the books and established him as a non-human creature walking in two worlds. It was funny and sweet and dark. Perfect. Why mess with it, then? In my opinion, (and Pat has his own published his own words on this at the end of the novella and in his blog), Pat re-wrote it to prove that he could. It was a small step after so long staying literarily still (likely crouching in terror from all the pointing fingers and demands). He made a wonderful, solid, little baby step, and it was beautiful.
The Narrow Road Between Desires is a much wider look at the same day from “The Lightning Tree”. It’s like the curtains were pulled back and the reader no longer must peek at Bast; Bast is showing them his full self. There are even beautiful illustrations by Nate Taylor to help you visualize the character and his surroundings. Bast fully exposes his keystone, his pith, his relationships, his thoughts, AND his dedication to the three parts of a thing (yes, that’s in there too, where it wasn’t before, and I think that must have gnawed at Pat, being so dedicated to that which makes his stuff unique and uniquely HIS). Also modernizing the story is a couple beautifully subtle nods to 2SLGBTQIA+ (the trans nod made me teary, as I am personally affected by knowledge and acceptance of this community), and the sexual freedom, beauty and desires of women (even old, and/or overweight ones). Lastly, it illustrates that despite all previous descriptions of Bast, he has intermittent crises of confidence and the frustration that springs from them, just like the rest of us. He doesn’t know everything, just what makes him who HE is. He can only walk that narrow road, and this time, we all get to experience the journey with him rather than peeking through the curtains.
I will be reading this novella again because I didn’t quite understand the messages of the embroils, and I was in too much of a rush to contemplate them the first time. I will be passing it to family and friends. I will recommend it to high school English teachers who are at their wit’s end to find something teenager might actually read. I will put it on my book club list. I will talk about it and Pat’s other books until I’m blue in the face. I will stand against the irrational hate and be thankful for the current art in my hand. That which belongs to me, now, in hardcover.
The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss was under the tree for me this year and it wasn’t a surprise. We had gone to the local bookstore on our annual, local holiday shop and I spotted its fresh cover in the fantasy section with a gasp. I hadn’t heard anything about it (but that’s not impressive, since I don’t follow his blog – I’m not a gamer and twitch streaming is about as far away from what I find interesting as it gets). My husband shooed me away and the jig was up. Only had to wait a few weeks until I could read it. Fast-forward to today, when I’ve read it and Pat’s author’s note at the end, and revisted Pat’s blog, and now feel compelled to write a response to everything I know. This is more that than a review, and there are a few spoilers forthcoming.
What I didn’t know, squeaking with joy in the bookstore, was that The Narrow Road Between Desires is an expansive edition of “The Lightning Tree”, a short story I read ten years ago. I was immediately disappointed reading the book jacket after tearing off it’s Christmas wrap, because I felt the original short story was perfect, a glimpse into the day of a beloved character from a beloved book. The original story illustrated Bast’s Fae-ness wonderfully and explained what he was doing when he wasn’t in the scenes at The Wayfarer (you didn’t even know you missed him until he came bursting, or sneaking, right onto center stage). I loved “The Lightning Tree”, my son (to whom I read the story several times) loved it. When I realized, holding the new-old story, that I wasn’t getting another day in the life of Bast, I was just getting the blinds pulled back on the one I had already seen, I grumbled and complained. I started reading right away but don’t remember the first part of the book, so far behind my own disgruntlement was I sitting.
Taking a step back here, I’d like to explain the gleeful excitement that I felt in the bookstore, seeing a new volume with Patrick Rothfuss’s name on it. Basically, I’m his biggest fan. I’ve read The Name of The Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear more times than I’ve read literally any other book(s) in my entire life. There are a few other authors that I have read half as much (and for many of the same reasons that I will lay out here), but Pat is my bard of choice. His writing gets my attention repeatedly. Just holding one of his novels in my hands is like a magical key that turns me into a child at the feet of a master storyteller (an actual scene in his book, so I know he knows how I feel). He transports me to a different place. I stay up late to read. I put off more important things to read. I feel both full and empty when I finish the story. Then a year or two later, I happily go through it all again. His work is the epitome of what I believe an adult tall tale should be: the cadence, the use of language, the enigmatic and charming main character, the barely-fleshed but important side-characters (Elodin! When will there be a novella about Elodin?), mildly evil classmates and horribly evil parent-killers, heart-pounding and often unexpected action, a vibrantly-coloured universe, and, for these characters in this story in this world, the structure. It’s what the humanities is all about: history, religion, culture, wars, good-against-evil, and a poor, first-year university student to take you through it all as he experiences it. There are many, many similar stories out there, but Pat does something that, I believe, is vastly different: he sets the entire chaotic, colourful, fanciful thing inside a box with three parts.
Everything in this magical universe revolves around those three parts: silence, turnings, charms, curses, good, evil, etc. Once the three have clicked into place, fate is sealed. One is confined by the three, one is freed by the three. It’s brilliant. Then Pat pulls it meta and tells the story in three parts: three days, three parts of the tale, three BOOKS. And herein lies our problem with Pat, methinks.
At the end of the second book, Kvothe the character is still, what, fifteen years old? Kote the innkeeper, however, seems middle-aged. Character Kvothe has taken a leave from university. He has gone off on a journey (part one: stranger comes to town, part two…you get the drift). He is trying desperately to find his girl (the only character I don’t like in the books, actually) and seems to be gaining very little ground on the Chandrian. There is very, very little in common with character Kvothe and innkeeper Kote at the Wayfarer, who is obviously much older, much sadder, much maligned. Where did Bast come from? Where are all his university friends? How on EARTH will Pat rectify this in one book? The pressure must be monumental. My fifteen-year-old son encapsulated it yesterday: “I would rather not finish it, than finish it badly and have all that rage directed at me.”
THIS is why we need to talk about Pat. I am annoyed by the vitriol and hate directed at this man, an artist. He has delivered several manuscripts; two novels, a novella, a short story, and now an edited version of that short story (which likely puts it in novella territory). This latest edition of Bast’s private world (which adds colour to the existing universe and the existing story of Kvothe) has been panned online because it’s not new. Likely because it’s not the third installment of the Kingkiller series. I did it myself (although just to myself) when I started reading. My father-in-law called Pat an “asshole” when we got talking about this online vitriol, both because he likes to set me off and because he and my mother-in-law have read the books, which I passed to them because I thought they would love the story. He loves the story so much that he hates Pat for not finishing it (yet). These folks are even from the “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” generation.
I find this very strange and unfair, and stupid. From my recent read of his author’s note at the end of The Narrow Road and quick trip to his website, Pat is a hairy, D&D disciple, twitch-streaming dad. He is a brilliant wordsmith who has been running a successful charity and helping folks sell their arts and crafts and start bookstores. He has a real life, and it doesn’t sound like he’s jetting around Europe. It sounds mostly like he’s reading books to and playing games with his kids. It sounds like he knows he is roundly despised because he CAN’T finish his stuff on time or on target (and he seems to feel quite bad about it, to the point of depression). But there is no doubt: it is HIS stuff. It’s HIS art. If he can’t create it, it doesn’t exist. It is not yours until it’s in your hands. Like Neil Gaiman said to rabid fans of George RR (hating for the same reason): “[he] is not your bitch” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mkjBwG72Jw).
Let’s come back to The Narrow Road Between Desires. Once I let go of my own negativity, I recognized how worthwhile this re-writing exercise must have been for Pat. First, I think it’s important to state that I was negative because “The Lightning Tree”, in my mind, was a perfect short story. It already BELONGED to me as a favourite. It was a glimpse. It was fast-paced. It focused on a very mysterious character from the books and established him as a non-human creature walking in two worlds. It was funny and sweet and dark. Perfect. Why mess with it, then? In my opinion, (and Pat has his own published his own words on this at the end of the novella and in his blog), Pat re-wrote it to prove that he could. It was a small step after so long staying literarily still (likely crouching in terror from all the pointing fingers and demands). He made a wonderful, solid, little baby step, and it was beautiful.
The Narrow Road Between Desires is a much wider look at the same day from “The Lightning Tree”. It’s like the curtains were pulled back and the reader no longer must peek at Bast; Bast is showing them his full self. There are even beautiful illustrations by Nate Taylor to help you visualize the character and his surroundings. Bast fully exposes his keystone, his pith, his relationships, his thoughts, AND his dedication to the three parts of a thing (yes, that’s in there too, where it wasn’t before, and I think that must have gnawed at Pat, being so dedicated to that which makes his stuff unique and uniquely HIS). Also modernizing the story is a couple beautifully subtle nods to 2SLGBTQIA+ (the trans nod made me teary, as I am personally affected by knowledge and acceptance of this community), and the sexual freedom, beauty and desires of women (even old, and/or overweight ones). Lastly, it illustrates that despite all previous descriptions of Bast, he has intermittent crises of confidence and the frustration that springs from them, just like the rest of us. He doesn’t know everything, just what makes him who HE is. He can only walk that narrow road, and this time, we all get to experience the journey with him rather than peeking through the curtains.
I will be reading this novella again because I didn’t quite understand the messages of the embroils, and I was in too much of a rush to contemplate them the first time. I will be passing it to family and friends. I will recommend it to high school English teachers who are at their wit’s end to find something teenager might actually read. I will put it on my book club list. I will talk about it and Pat’s other books until I’m blue in the face. I will stand against the irrational hate and be thankful for the current art in my hand. That which belongs to me, now, in hardcover.