The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1)

by Patrick Rothfuss

Kvothe drew a deep breath and sighed. “But the simplest reason is the least satisfying one, I suppose. The truth is this: I wasn’t living in a story.” “I don’t think I’m understanding you, Reshi,” Bast said, puzzled. “Think of all the stories you’ve heard, Bast. You have a young boy, the hero. His parents are killed. He sets out for vengeance. What happens next?” Bast hesitated, his expression puzzled. Chronicler answered the question instead. “He finds help. A clever talking squirrel. An old drunken swordsman. A mad hermit in the woods. That sort of thing.” Kvothe nodded. “Exactly! He finds the mad hermit in the woods, proves himself worthy, and learns the names of all things, just like Taborlin the Great. Then with these powerful magics at his beck and call, what does he do?” Chronicler shrugged. “He finds the villains and kills them.” “Of course,” Kvothe said grandly. “Clean, quick, and easy as lying. We know how it ends practically before it starts.