I love discovering people who have similar book interests as me. When I was in Minnesota, I got to stay with a good friend of mine, and her husband and I had some good book chats. He recommended that I read this book. I believe I had mentioned books that place an emphasis on the power of words. I think I had just finished reading "The Wretched of Muirwood".
Let's break it down:
This is a frame story. The frame is the story of an innkeeper, Kote, and his assisstant, Bast. A Chronicler comes into town searching for the legend known as Kvothe. Kvothe has so many legends and so much history...
"I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs to make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me."―Kvothe to Chronicler[src]
I am in love with this book... no, this series! As soon as I finished this book, I bought the second one. There is a word aspect in this story. There is definitely a power in words in the story. Kvothe tries to learn the name of the wind, and it is not as simple as he thinks it will be. Maybe his impatience will ruin his chances at learning it. Anyway, I love frame stories, but usually I find that I like one part of the frame than the other. Not so with this book. I love both parts of the story. I love Kote as an innkeeper with a hidden past. I love learning about young Kvothe and how the legends were made. I am 100% in love with how he describes feelings. When he says something feels like something else, he is very specific. Here's an example:
There you will feel what I felt. The ice splinters under your feet. Look down and you can see the white cracks darting through the ice like mad, elaborate spiderwebs. It is perfectly silent, but you can feel the sudden sharp vibrations through the bottoms of your feet.
That is what happened when Denna smiled at me. I don't mean to imply I felt as if I stood on brittle ice about to give way beneath me. No. I felt like the ice itself, suddenly shattered, with cracks spiraling out from where she had touched my chest.