There are some authors who sprinkle poetic imagery in their writing like a very expensive spice. A chapter might end with a weighty metaphor. A new character enters the stage with some artful simile. Patrick Rothfuss is not one of those authors. Under his pen, a character can’t cross a room without evoking elder gods, the great cycles of nature, and the petty generosity of humanity. His writing is thick. It is delicious. It is magical.
I am fortunate that Rothfuss is not a prolific writer, for I have time to forget just how good he is. I picked up The Narrow Road Between Desires and thought, “Ah! Rothfuss has written another little story: this will be a tasty treat”. I was wrong. Each page is a feast. Again and again, I stopped and reread passages, pages, for the sheer pleasure of experiencing them a second time. And this is not a superficial meal, florid prose for its own sake. The tale itself is so mundane, so common, so utterly riveting. Did I call it magical yet? Well I’m doing it again, it’s magical.
This volume was particularly exciting for me because it revolved around one of my favorite subjects, the Fae, or as I prefer to call them, real faeries. These are not the sparkly, G-rated creatures spawned from the minds of overprotective parents who consider “pagan” a slur. These faeries are the reason you don’t go into the woods alone. They are wild creatures, fickle, volatile, so very much like people and so entirely different. It is a special delight to have new stories spring from such ancient lore. To get into the details, to interrogate the myths, to challenge the principles, to ask the really hard questions, like what does a faery get up to all day?
Reading this book brings me the most sublime pleasure. I heartily recommend it. I know for some it won’t be as much to you as it is to me, and for you, I only hope that you find what is. To Mr Rothfuss, keep writing. Please. At whatever pace you like, on whatever subject you like. Wherever. However. Just keep writing. Your words sustain me.