The Wise Man's Fear

“So yes. It had flaws, but what does that matter when it comes to matters of the heart? We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”

Kvothe’s description of love reinforces that no one, and nothing, is perfect, but a lack of perfection does not make someone any less deserving of love. This belief contradicts his view of himself. While he looks to the outside world and believes that things should be loved despite their flaws, his actions and negative self-talk within the context of interpersonal relationships show that he struggles to believe that he is equally deserving. It is made evident that he has a kinder view of others than he has for himself.

“‘I know,’ [Auri] said. ‘You have a stone in your heart, and some days it’s so heavy there is nothing to be done. But you don’t have to be alone for it. You should have come to me. I understand.’”

Auri is the only person thus far who has recognized the deep pain at the center of Kvothe’s childhood. By creating a metaphor comparing trauma to stone, she ascribes a physical weight to the burden Kvothe carries, creating a kinship between their experiences. This moment shows that despite the secrets between the two of them, they still have the capacity to care and look out for each other.

“‘What was in the lightning?’ I asked softly.

‘Galvanic ionization,’ [Auri] said. Then, after a pause, she added, ‘And river-ice. And the sway a cattail makes.’”

Auri is a mysterious figure who cares deeply about Kvothe. Little is known about her background, mostly because she shows trauma responses whenever she is asked questions about her past. This moment highlights how there is more to her than meets the eye, as she not only knows the scientific makeup of lightning but also a more fantastical view of it. This is the first moment in the novel that implies Auri might once have been associated with the University.

“That night, and for many to come, Wil and Sim took turns watching over me as I slept, keeping me safe with their Alar. They were the best sort of friends. The sort everyone hopes for but no one deserves, least of all me.”

Despite Kvothe’s outward appearance of confidence, this moment reveals his deep insecurities. He does not believe himself worthy of the people who care about him, revealing a hurt that carries forward into the present. Because Kvothe views himself as undeserving of love, he is less likely to make emotional connections, influencing his fatalism.

“Sleat gave me a sharp, beautiful smile. ‘Ah, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Everyone knows a man’s reputation except the man himself. For most men this isn’t a bother. But some of us labor over our reputations.’”

Sleat, a smuggler, talks with Kvothe about the importance of reputations. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, both men care deeply about what other people say about them, making an unlikely connection. Further, this is another instance in which knowledge and power are intertwined, although in this instance knowledge is centered on knowing things about oneself rather than knowing things about the world.

“It was worth blood and the fear of death just to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself.”

Kvothe’s prediction of Fela and Simmon’s eventual relationship is ironic for two reasons. First, he is unaware that Fela currently has romantic feelings for him, showing his obliviousness at situations in his own life while he is so astute at observing others. Secondly, at the novel’s conclusion, he talks to Fela and Simmon about love. This conversation flows from his insistence that he does not love Denna, but his friends see his affections as clearly as he once saw theirs. This reinforces that although Kvothe is intelligent and astute, when it comes to his own life he is accidentally or intentionally oblivious.

“I looked behind the door again. The lute wasn’t behind the door. Then I sat on the bed. If I had been weary before, then I was something else entirely now. I felt like I was made of wet paper. I felt like I could barely breathe, like someone had solen my heart out of my chest.”

This moment reinforces that the lute is more than just an instrument to Kvothe. It is a connection to his family and to his identity, symbolic of both his Ruh heritage and the innate talents he possesses. More practically, the lute is also the key to his independence, because playing music is one of his only sources of consistent income. Kvothe has a history of falling into depressive states when he is without music, causing the reader to worry about him as he is amid many obstacles.

“You looked too hard and didn’t see enough. Too much looking can get in the way of seeing, you see?”

Puppet, one of the University’s stranger inhabitants, warns Kvothe that his predilection for curiosity and inspection stands in the way of his ability to successfully see what is in front of him. This is advice that is repeated to Kvothe by various teachers in a range of circumstances, like Elodin’s insistence that Kvothe is too forceful in his pursuits.

“In the end, I was cleared of any wrongdoing. I thought I was vindicated. I thought I had won…

But I was still terribly naïve in many ways.”

Present Kvothe interjects from the frame narrative, acknowledging that his past self could not have anticipated his story to come. This moment increases the novel’s tension. While the results of Kvothe’s trial warrant a celebration, the reader is reminded that present Kvothe is in a much darker emotional and mental place than his younger self.

“‘Not fame’, Kvothe said grimly. ‘Perspective. You go rummaging around in other people’s lives. You hear rumors and go digging for the painful truth beneath the lovely lies. You believe you have a right to these things. But you don’t.’ He looked hard at the scribe. ‘When someone tells you a piece of their life, they’re giving you a gift, not granting you your due.’”

Kvothe teaches Chronicler a lesson about his inappropriate efforts to make Kvothe talk more about his trial, one of the central stories contributing to his mythos. This moment also serves as a warning: No one is entitled to another person’s story, and seeking out rumors can be emotionally difficult for the subject of those rumors.

“Remember: There are three things all wise man fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

This is the first time that the novel’s title, The Wise Man’s Fear, appears in the text itself. This warning from Threpe foreshadows what Kvothe will encounter as he leaves the University.

“I immediately regretted that the only person present to see [the handshake] was the guard. I hoped he was a gossip.”

This moment reinforces the differences between present Kvothe and past Kvothe. While present Kvothe dislikes gossip and regrets his reputation, in the past he revels in being the subject of positive attention. It is this attention-seeking that contributes to his renown in the present.

“‘The point,’ Bredon said grandly, ‘is to play a beautiful game.’ He lifted his hands and shrugged, his face breaking into a beatific smile. ‘Why would I want to win anything other than a beautiful game?’”

While Kvothe and Bredon are talking specifically of the game of tak, the broader context of their interactions showcases the implications of Bredon’s statement. The social constraints that impact their interactions, paired with their limited knowledge of each other, means that Bredon is also implying that the real world is a game in and of itself. He emphasizes the importance of doing things well, noting that a messy success is diminished by its messiness.

“For without hope what do any of us have?”

While exchanging witticisms and engaging in banter, Denna beseeches Kvothe to hold on to hope. While this is meant playfully in the moment, there is a juxtaposition between past Kvothe and present Kvothe represented in this moment. Past Kvothe is still hopeful and enthusiastic, an outlook that contributes to his rise in power and ability. Past Kvothe, however, is trapped by fatalism, having lost all hope except for the hope for his own impending demise.

“And if that meant she wasn’t entirely mine, what of it? I would be the one she could always return to without fear of recrimination or question. So I did not try to win her and contented myself with playing a beautiful game.

But there was always a part of me that hoped for more, and so there was a part of me that was always a fool.”

Kvothe explains why he does not pursue romantic relations with Denna, but his reflections are contradictory in a way that mirrors his emotional inexperience. He expresses a desire to be a safe person for Denna to turn to in times of need, but he also thinks of her in terms of ownership and games. This simultaneously gives Denna autonomy while also reducing her in status. Kvothe’s mindset is a consequence of their society and subject to change as he continues to travel the world, but this moment foreshadows the mentality that causes their fight.

“‘Well, I think it’s a lovely start.’ She looked up at the sky and drew a long, deep breath. ‘I’ve always liked moonless nights best. It’s easier to say things in the dark. It’s easier to be yourself.’”

This moment of intimacy between Kvothe and Denna is the first time they are explicit about romance and attraction. Denna expresses that she is more comfortable at night and dislikes the light of the moon. However, this perspective is a direct contrast to what Felurian and Threpe both tell Kvothe, warning him about the dangers of moonless nights. Denna is oblivious to such dangers, establishing both her distance from magical realms and her avoidance of truth.

“Hours later the blank sheet still stared at me, and I beat my fist against the desk in fury and frustration, striking it so hard my hand bled. That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

Kvothe has never told anyone that his parents were killed by the Chandrian. His search for them is secret because many do not believe that the Chandrian are real. As he tries to write Denna and explain his rage over her song centered on these dangerous beings, he realizes that he cannot force himself to write the words. This reinforces how repressed his emotions are, impacting his ability to open up to others even in reconciliation.

“‘Not pointless,’ I protested. ‘It’s the questions we can’t answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a fact. But give him a question and he’ll look for his own answers.’”

This realization, which borders on proverb, is a key moment for Kvothe. He states several times that his curiosity is one of his defining characteristics. It drives him to research, digging deeper into the Amyr because of the mystery they represent. As he describes his father’s mischievous tendencies to tell him impossible stories, he realizes the importance of asking questions and reconciles this with Elodin’s teaching style. Kvothe opens himself up to uncertainty, showing definitive growth.

“That thread of truth wove through the story, gave it strength. So even though you might not believe it, you might tell it to a wide-eyed first term student with a drink in him, just to watch his face, just for fun. And if you’d had a drink or three yourself, you might just begin to wonder…

And so the stories spread.”

Kvothe discusses the power of rumors and how they circulate, creating a metaphor of sewing to showcase how things become joined together. The intermittent truths to Kvothe’s life story bolster the fabricated aspects; this gives him increased authority, and he begins the transformation of himself into a legend.

“When [Felurian] spoke her voice was clear. ‘I do this so you cannot help but hear. A wise man views a moonless night with fear.’”

This is the second time that the fear of “wise men” is brought up in the novel and is the second repetition of a fear of a moonless night. This information comes from a Fae being instead of the world of mortals; as such, the fear is indicated to be something fantastical. Her warning carries more weight than Threpe’s, propelled by her near-immortality and the undeniable strangeness of their environment.

“‘It’s not over if you’re still here,’ Chronicler said. ‘It’s not a tragedy if you’re still alive.’

Bast nodded eagerly at this, looking back at Kvothe.

Kvothe looked at both of them for a moment, then smiled and chuckled low in his chest. ‘Oh,’ he said fondly. ‘You’re both so young.’”

Kvothe’s fatalistic worldview is contrasted with the hope that both Chronicler and Bast present. Further, his worldly experiences have granted him perspective beyond his years, making him slightly dismissive of their hopefulness because of their inexperience, which he refers to as age.

“‘This is why I do not have knives instead of hands, Vashet,’ I said quietly. ‘This is what I am.’”

In a private moment, Kvothe reveals his talents as a musician, an act that was barred to him due to the Ademic disapproval of public music. It is an emotionally intimate exposure of his identity and is the first moment he is fully honest with his teacher. This provides the foundation for his later emotional self-defense against those who insult the Edema Ruh, representing his confidence in himself.

“‘You’ve got some medicine,’ [Gran] said. ‘You know that proper doctoring means hard choices.’ She gave me an unflinching look. ‘We hain’t like other folk. You burn a man with an iron to stop his bleeding. You save the mother and lose the babe. It’s hard, and nobody ever thanks you for it. But we’re the ones that have to choose.’”

This is the first time that Kvothe interacts with someone who tells him that his choices, while hard, are often necessary. He has previously been the subject of scrutiny and questioning based on his actions, but for the first time he is offered vindication and confirmation that he is doing the right thing. This assurance from a stranger offers him comfort and power in a difficult time while also confirming the importance of wisdom from unexpected sources.