The Slow Regard of Silent Things

So 'the Slow Regard of Silent Things' is probably the most apt title Rothfuss could've given to his recent novella. This is a book about the character Auri, who lives in an underground water facility (or perhaps it should just be called a sewer?). Throughout the book she gives careful consideration ('slow regard') to a series of inanimate objects ('silent things'). There's only one character (unless you count her personified knick-knacks) and no real dramatic arc or conflict.

And the fact that it's still somehow good speaks volume of Patrick Rothfuss' unending skill as a writer.

I strongly believe that only Rothfuss could ever pull something like this off. Put any other contemporary author to the task and it would come across as ivory tower artsy garbage or a stupid joke. The Slow Regard of Silent Things feels both authentic and rich, beautiful and sad. 

I don't know if all of Rothfuss' fans will like it. Those who read for his plot or his world building may be disappointed here, but if you are in love with Rothfuss as a wordsmith, then this is the book for you.

Go pick it up.

Some detailed points on the book:

1) Auri and madness.
At only one point in this text is Auri's madness described as being such and for the majority of the text she is simply a person who is operating within her own world, happily. You can't be much more of a social non-conformist then you can be by living alone in a sewer pipe, but Auri is still portrayed as being fundamentally beautiful and at peace with her environment.

Auri sort of gives live to everything around her. Reading it one way, there's only one character in this book and that's Auri. At one point a little girl sees her, but she doesn't say anything so that hardly counts. But if you accept Auri's worldview, there are dozens of people living in the Underthing. There's the stubborn gear. There's the stone soldier. There's the Esther perfume bottle. There are the unnamed stairs.

But that's the thing. You aren't going to accept Auri's worldview 100% of the time. When the girl is literally drowning herself to get a broken heavy metal cog out of a deep pool of water, you're going to be screaming 'what is this crazy girl DOING?'

And that's what so effectively conveys what makes this book fascinating. You can feel Auri's joy at getting blankets properly folded or making soap for herself, but you're always aware of the intense loneliness that simmers beneath the surface.

2) Auri and love.
If you were to try to describe this book in a tweet, you might try: "It's about a girl getting ready for a date."

Much of the pages are spent  with Auri looking for something in the Underthing to give to Kvothe on their next meeting. Rothfuss here skirts a delicate line between excitement and fanaticism, staying mainly on the excitement side of things. Kvothe's coming is a big event for her, but it doesn't mean she doesn't have to eat or bathe. But nevertheless, the date is probably the biggest driver of the story's plot.

I'm on the record on this blog as having always liked Auri more than all the other girls in the Kvothe-harem. There's a certain mystery to her and the way she talks is an utter delight. Which is why seeing her preparing to meet Kvothe is fundamentally sad, because as the audience we know that Kvothe is pretty much unattainable for Auri. Leaving aside the fact that Auri lives in a labyrinthine underground maze and is a bit crazy, Kvothe is fruitlessly infatuated with Denna and is eventually going to end up as a bitter person running an inn.

I'd be happy to be wrong about this of course, but there's something fundamentally sad about seeing an earnest and wonderful young lady putting all her energies into a task she can never succeed it. But that is, of course, both sad and human.

3) Narrative Freedom.
I really think you learn most about a writer when you read something they wrote from a position of absolute security.

When JK Rowling sat back after seven Harry Potter books, she wrote the Cuckoo's Calling books, showing us that her true passion lies with the mystery genre (I'm not counting the Casual Vacancy here, as I think she really wrote that to just purge away residual Harry Potter-ness).

Just in the same way, after kicking back and relaxing after the Dark Knight, Nolan made Inception.

And of course, when John Scalzi finished the fifth or sixth unnecessary sequel to Old Man's War, he promptly wrote a cash-in Star Trek parody.

The Slow Regard of Silent Things thus gives us a good reading of Patrick Rothfuss' true self. It gives us insight into what he fundamentally cares about and what his true self looks like, when you strip away any concerns for sales, demographics and other such careerist concerns. It shows us that this is a man concerned with the expression of indescribable emotions and states of mind. A man that wants to weave words beautifully and explore uncharted narrative paths.

Rothfuss, fundamentally, has a good soul and one can feel its silver light warmly glowing from every word written in this book.
Looking forward to the next book, Pat.