The Name of the Wind
Rothfuss's 2007 debut introduced Kvothe, a mythologized legend telling his own story with full knowledge of its shape. The meta-narrative frame lets him write the hero-myth and its critique simultaneously. The prose is the finest in modern epic fantasy.
Kvothe reads as a Mary Sue to a lot of readers: “the best musician, the best dueler, the best test-taker,” brilliant at everything without much struggle, one reviewer picturing him “slung over his shoulders like Jesus Christ.” The women are thin, the love interest existing to be pursued rather than to want anything. Momentum stalls hard once the story settles into University life, readers reporting it “dragging horribly once he got to University” for well past a hundred pages. Obstacles like denied library access feel engineered rather than organic. And the third book remains unpublished many years on, which readers weigh before starting at all.
The case for it and the rest of the canon open with Pro.
