I don't know shit about Patrick Rothfuss except that I've vaguely heard of him and his work, and now, thanks to this thread, that feminists hate him for some reason. Sounds promising, and it's a been a long while since I've read a fantasy novel, so I might look into it.
You want on-topic criticism of Rothfuss? Well here you go then.
http://ferretbrain.com/articles/article-751
Felurian is the sirens, and Artemis and pretty much every other sex-death-nudity chick from mythology or fiction rolled into one. Kvothe catches her, bones her, breaks free of her sex-death-nudity mind control, completely whips her ass in a straight fight, then bones her again, then plays music that makes her think he's awesome, then writes half a song about her that is so awesome that she agrees to let him go so that he can finish it, then disses her sexual prowess, which prompts her to get really insecure and tell him what an amazing lover he is, then they have sex some more, then she sews him a magic cloak, while he goes away and talks to a prophetic tree which turns out to be evil.
Then they have sex some more, then he comes back to the real world and is all “bros, I totally did it with Felurian” and everybody is all like “no way, you'd be mad or dead” and he's like “no I totally did it with Felurian” and then the hot barmaid from earlier is all like “no he's definitely telling the truth because I am a woman and I can see that he has got totally sexed up since we last met, because I tried to sex him and it freaked him out, but now it looks like he wouldn't be freaked out and also he would be totally awesome at sexing.” Then Kvothe does sex with the hot barmaid and he is totally awesome at it, and he explains how doing sex with the hot barmaid is totally as good as doing sex with Felurian, because women are like music and sometimes you want to listen to a beautiful symphony and sometimes you just want a nice simple jig, and by the way this definitely isn't sexist, and if you think it is then you know nothing about music or love or him.
This last line, apart from being switched from the first to the third person, is a direct quote from the book.
Here is the exchange between Kvothe and Felurian after he finishes his half-finished song (a song, I should add, which is included in full in the text, and which both Kvothe and Felurian describe as having beautiful words – a claim I would hesitate to make about anything I had written myself, particularly if it was incidental music for my fantasy novel):
Some of the fire left her, but when she found her voice it was tight and dangerous. “my skills 'suffice'?” She hardly seemed able to force out the last word. Her mouth formed a thin, outraged line.
I exploded, my voice a roll of thunder. “How the hell am I supposed to know? It's not like I've ever done this sort of thing before!”
She reeled back at the vehemence of my words, some of the anger draining out of her. “what is it you mean?” she trailed off, confused.
“This!” I gestured awkwardly at myself, at her, at the cushions and the pavilion around us, as if that explained everything.
The last of the anger left her as I saw realization begin to dawn, “you...”
“No,” I looked down, my face growing hot. “I have never been with a woman.” Then I straightened and looked her in the eye as if challenging her to make an issue of it.”
Felurian was still for a moment, then let her mouth turn up into a wry smile. “you tell me a faerie story, my kvothe.”
I felt my face go grim. I don't mind being called a liar. I am. I am a marvellous liar. But I hate being called a liar when I'm telling the perfect truth.
Regardless of my motivation, my expression seemed to convince her. “but you were like a gentle summer storm.” She made a fluttering gesture with a hand. “you were a dancer fresh upon the field.” Her eyes glittered wickedly.
That's right, Kvothe was
so amazing at doing sex that the ancient sex goddess of sex and death was actually
unable to believe that he was a virgin because he was
so amazing at doing sex.
Once again, I say this. The next time you hear anybody complain about the fact that – in certain popular novels targeted at young women – hundred year old vampires fall for sixteen year old schoolgirls, point out to them that in
one of the most critically acclaimed fantasy novels of the twenty-first century a faery creature of unbridled sexual potency, as ancient as time itself, who lures men to their deaths with her irresistible beauty and insatiable lovemaking has her mind blown by the sexual prowess of a
sixteen year old virgin.
Lesi in the comments section said:
See, I never read the first Kingkiller book because it sounded precisely like the stuff I'd hate, but people keep raving on and on about it and I don't get it. Even the backcover bit sounds incredibly obnoxious: "oho look how clever I am by LAMPSHADING my GARY STU qualities. SEE? SEEEEE."
Jesus that post-coital exchange. No one can convince me to read Rothfuss. Ever. Ever. This, this right here? This is shit writing. This is stupid writing. Anyone who praises Rothfuss as whatever can go take a leap.
...
His voice a roll of thunder, no less. This is the brilliant writing all the fanboys praised?
The Last Castoff exploded, her voice a roll of thunder.
My impressions (from an older thread):
Finally finished the book. Disappointing.
The story is still good, but it's fucking drowned in filler. Denna this. Denna that. Denna, Denna, Denna. Oh, Denna. You poor, annoying fucking thing. I didn't read Twilight, but I imagine it's very similar, so can we please stick with the fucking genre, here?
Also, for someone who's supposed to be both smart and street-smart (what with growing up on the streets and all), the character is a dumb and whiny bitch. How much trouble could have he avoided had he learned to keep his mouth shut and reduce the number of PMS incidents by at least 30%? He's always screaming something stupid at his teachers, which doesn't strike me as a very smart thing to do.
Smart Kvothe doesn't get that storming into king's quaters demanding why the king isn't seeing him for several whole days is a bad idea. Why? Because he's a fucking nutcase. And of course, he had to tell them that he's a gypsy. Who cares if the queen hates the gypsies blaming them for what happened to her sister. Kvothe MUST announce his gypsiness when the queen is on his side, because that's what lowly, piss-poor people do when someone offers them a bowl of cereal. They shit in it, lest someone thinks they don't have enough pride.
Now, clearly Kvothe the innkeeper had learned his lessons eventually, but did he have to be such an insufferable, stupid twat to begin with? While Kvothe's mistakes are pointed out by other character, Kvothe doesn't strike me as a believable character, and his ridiculous fame (it seems like the whole world is watching his every step and nobody else does anything worth talking about) and his adventures with Felurian and the ninjas only reinforce this feeling.
Verdict: wouldn't recommend.
...
Kvothe does handle everything perfectly. He excels at everything that is cool. He makes cool gadgets, he is great at spell binding and shames even his teachers, he's a great poet, fantastic musician, superb linguist, and a great namer. Sure, he isn't good at math, but in the context of the story, it's irrelevant.
He saves the king's life, gets him a girl, easily beating every other suitor, and then he finds, attacks, and kills an overwhelming number of bandits led by a fucking Chandrian or whatever the fuck they are called. He is the only man to survive the magic nympho. He is the only outsider to be trained and, of course, excel in the art of the ninjas. He's way too fucking much.
...
He's exceptionally good, better than his peers/teachers/most people/anyone alive at annoyingly large number of complex subjects that takes other people years to learn, assuming they can learn them at all. At the same time he behaves like a butthurt imbecile, which creates most of his problems.
...
He excels at sympathy, he beats a teacher who tried to mock him.
He excels at crafting.
He excels at naming; most students were sent away to "chase the wind", he managed to call it in the first book, and twice more in the second book.
He does a number (too great to mention) of extraordinary things.
He excels at sex now, after being taught by the fae chick.
He excels at music, song-making, and playing; when he plays his lute, women have uncontrollable orgasms.
He excels at learning languages. I'll even quote:
"You can read it?" she said, her voice incredulous, her expression slightly horrified. "Merciful Tehlu, isn't there anything you don't know?"
"I've been learning Yllish..."
"... Even Yllish folk barely know Yllish these days," she said under her breath, plainly irritated.
"I'm not any good," I said. "I only know some words."
"Even the ones do speak it don't bother with the knots." She glared sideways at me. "Are you're supposed to read them with your fingers, not by looking at them."
....
with the ninjas:
"You performed quite well today. Everyone is speaking of it."
"bla-bla, surely I'm not that good, haha, I've only been studying it for the last few weeks."
Amused disbelief. "... They will tell what they've seen. By tomorrow everyone will expect your stride to shake the ground as if you were Aethe himself come back to visit us."
Etc.
At some point you simply get tired of reading how awesome he is. And of how much he likes Denna.
.
