He looked longingly, she wept bitterly, they sighed bitterly.
Yet I still read onwardly.
Rothfus doesn’t really let the reader do much work for himself. He tells too much and he uses awkward language far too much. There’s is absolutely nothing original going on here and it’s only because I’m not bored that I keep going.
It’s not bad, it’s just not that great. Anyone could have written this.
This book is starting to get seriously tedious.
Rothfuss has never met an adjective he couldn’t shoehorn into every sentence.
Every time a fight happens the people beating him up start fighting each other and the whole things breaks up. Lazy.
The one interesting bit between Chronicler and the friend ends with them shaking hands next chapter. Blown opportunity, Patrick.
Enough with the Oliver Twist crap!
I like the way this starts: simple but with enough mystery to keep you intrigued.
Rothfuss has a gift for describing the scenery, he mixes colors with textures in interesting ways – such as describing the inside of that spider thing as gray and like a mushroom.
This is fun so far.