So this was absorbing and intricate and adventurous and tender and exciting and mythical and I’m both mad at myself for just getting around to this book and for not waiting until the third one comes out because in roughly 48 hours I’m going to be very frustrated that I’ve finished all there is to read.
"My name is Kvothe. 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 that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me." So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature — the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man's search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.
