Filed under Kingkiller Trilogy

Kingkiller Nigreddo: Wind

“So Taborlin fell, but he did not despair. For he knew the name of the wind, and so the wind obeyed him. It bore him to the ground as gently as a puff of thistledown and set him on his feet as soft as a mother’s kiss.”

Wind’s fairly important in this book. I could argue that it’s even more important in WMF, but that detours us from our goal (Remember, the “continue reading” is to protect Kingkiller virgins from spoilers).

Why wind? Why mention the control of wind and even inversion of wind? What’s wind to do with alchemy?

During sublimation, a vapor escapes the mercury. The alchemist must capture that vapor and through solution and distillation turn it into water. If you looked at the Emerald Table, you’d see the fourth law: “The wind carried it in its womb, the Earth is the nurse thereof.” Maier thought this means that sulphur (the masculine) is carried inside Mercury (the feminine) as the raw goods of the work. In the middle of sublimation and distillation, we see Hermes flying through the air like wind. Here’s Zoroaster’s Cave:

Our stone in the beginning is called water; when the body is dissolved, Ayre or Wind; when it tends to consolidation, then it is named earth, and when it is perfect and fist it is called Fire.

They also called that mercurial mist the zephyr, and it often symbolizes the white stone of the albedo. The Alchemist by Ben Jonson refers to Sublet’s puffer, Face, as billowing the flames. “That’s his fire-drake,/ His lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffes [sic] his coals [sic].”

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Kingkiller Nigreddo: He said to the stone, “Break!”

Further into our first Taborlin the Great story, we see Taborlin trapped in a windowless stone cell. Nevermind that the cell evokes images of coffins and tombstones (more Nigreddo death-to-the-old-life imagery), we’re interested in the magic!

But Taborlin knew the names of all things, and so all things were his to command. He said to the stone ‘Break!’ and the stone broke. The wall tore like a piece of paper, and through that hole Taborlin could see the sky and breath the sweet spring air.

In alchemy “stone” as a singular entity refers to the philosopher’s stone the vessel or protagonist transforming from common to holy or lead to gold. A “stone” is a prima materia that has gained the Midas touch and provides the aqua de vida.

But we’re not talking about a stone but stone as an element. Taborlin knew the name of the element “stone” and could control it… as in the title The Name of the Wind. For Lindy’s advice on the matter, we need his “rock” entry. Rock stores the prima materia - the philosopher’s stone. Robert Fludd named the stone “a spirituall [sic] rock of pure transparent saphir [sic].

Translation: the rock holds the good stuff. Continue reading

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Kingkiller Nigreddo: Blue Fire

“When he awoke, Taborlin the Great found himself locked in a high tower. They had taken his sword and stripped him of his tools: key, coin, and candle were all gone. But that weren’t even the worst of it, you see…” Cob pause for effect, “cause the lamps on the wall were all burning blue!”

We pulled up a stool next to Old Cob, Graham, Jake and Shep and leaned in, waiting alongside the smith’s prentice.

“Do you know what that meant boy?”

The smith’s prentice nodded said the word.

“That’s right,” Cob said approvingly. “The Chandrian. Everyone knows that blue fire is one of their signs.”

Well we’ve made it a whopping half-page into the reread and landed on another alchemical prospect. Blue flames. Cold fire. The alchemical blaze. Flames colored the opposite color of flames. This comes up often in Kingkiller, too often to count since the Chandrian antagonize Kvothe more than anything or anyone else.

The alchemists called it “azure” – the bright sky blue of modern home decor and graphic design. This color saturated the alchemical water and mercurial fifth element so often that the sapphire became a HUGE symbol when Parcelsus brought it over from the Cabbala. Others like Thomas Vaughan thought the alchemical water held “a certain inexpressible Azure like the Body of Heaven in a Clear Day.” If the protagonist sports a blue shirt or other garb, it supposedly reveals the pouring of tincture on top of melted lead to transmute it into silver or gold.

Translation: When we see azure in heavy alchemy books, we learn the goals of the perfected protagonist. Continue reading

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Kingkiller Nigreddo: Felling Night

I addressed the prologue elsewhere, so we’ll start with Chapter One:

“It was felling…”

Stop.

When ripped from mommy-context’s grasp, this creates double entendre, piggybacking on what came before. We could say, “A man waiting to die was felling.” Lumberjacks fell trees, but a felling is the amount of wood they fell in a given season. If double entendre, then he used “fell” verbally – to chop down. “The broken tree” is one meaning of the Ademic Maedre, Kvothe’s other name.
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Kingkiller Alchemy Reread: Disclaimers & Housekeeping Before We Start

Before I go on a posting rampage and dig into the nigreddo-gritty of The Name of the Wind, let’s lay out my assumptions:

1. Rothfuss mentioned in his bio that he dabbles with Alchemy in his basement. That means one of three things. He could mean that he often attempts to turn Pb into Au through metallurgy. If so, he’s avoiding the question – much like the witty “I stand exactly 10,000 feet tall” – as the grammar of chemistry does not translate into the grammar of Alchemy.

He could also mean he practices neo-gnostic esoteric alchemy in hopes to purify his soul and reach enlightenment. Though that crops up in cities like Seattle and New Orleans, I doubt Rothfuss cares much since he’s a staunch ethical relativist, inconsistent as that may seem with his more-than-relative stances and statements.

The third “dabble in Alchemy” nods toward literary alchemy. I say “nods” because, like many other PoMo writers, he doesn’t take himself too seriously. If he mentions his alchemy dabbling literarily, then alchemical symbols do not hide under ever rock and draccus cave. I write with that assumption FOR EVERY SINGLE POST. I have no clue which symbols he intended, but the beauty of writing shows up when author exposes a theme and reader applies insight in myriad ways. Interpretation looks neither like reader’s response or author’s intent, but a dance between their telepathic bond. That said, we’re searching for alchemical potentials and their potential implications, nothing more, nothing less.

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Monograms

Monograms beguile me.

I first came across them when I figured out that J.R.R. Tolkien’s diddy on the cover of Lord of the Rings was actually his initials:

J. R. R. T.

It took me awhile to make mine, but I finished it a few years back. You’ve probably seen it around here. It’s at the end of every post:

Lancelot Timothy Michael Schaubert

A monogram, when done well, symbolizes the person into a single reprintable character. It’s more than a sum of letters. It takes the sum of a person’s names, the sum of their gifts and their quirks and then amalgamates all of it into one iconographic. Tolkien’s isn’t just JRRT. It’s more. It’s a part of his world. You could feasibly find it carved into a ruin somewhere in Middle Earth. It’s the man and the myth combined into a symbol.

No wonder some of our ancestors used them for letters instead of house seals.

Well, short story long, I had two monogram projects going. One, belonging to my bride Kiddo, I started when I fashioned my own. However, her name eludes me, escapes me. I’m Kvothe caught above that courtyard of wind with no name to speak, no monogram to write:

I can’t get hers right.

In addition, I wanted to give all of my groomsmen signet rings with monograms made by yours truly. I can’t find a jeweler who will simply take my designs and put them in a ring. If you know someone who can, let me know. I’d still like to forge those rings. I’m dying to have a custom-made Schaubert-House seal and to give that pleasure to others.

As a small consolation prize, I finished some monograms for my friends. Seven are for guys in my wedding. All of them are, in my estimation, monograms.

There’s funnier ones, like Peter ___ Corado, who refuses to tell me his middle name, even after all these years:

That other one’s Micah Paul Balu.

Then there’s my lifelong twin Andrew Graham Nash, the Portland musician, alongside Robb John Kimball Jones:

My writer friends Colby Lance Williams, Ellie Ann Soderstrom and Kyle Christopher Welch next to an old, old, frickityfrackin’ old logo from a writer’s group I helped start:

Heath Ryan Schaubert (my brother) next to Jordan Ryan Schultz (my “fraternal twin”):

Derek Hammeke of Key Productions:

The Gonzalez’s:

And finally Jordan Howerton who to this day remains in my phone contact list as “Jo Jo How.” He started “The j” back in college – sorry Jordan, couldn’t work an empty stroller into yours. His monogram is below to the right of Taylor Ann Collier’s (formerly Hahn – “The Amazin’ Asian”).

To give you an idea of how much thought I put into each of these, I’ll explain Taylor’s. A taylor, historically, is a tailor – one who creates fashionable clothing custom fit for a patron. I wanted something needle-point taut, but also Asian. I couldn’t use Korean – from Taylor’s home country – because many Korean characters are too round. The best blend of sleek needle-point and Asian is Japanese. T in Katakana Japanese came up as weird version of To on my phone. Dang cellphone, never transliterating right and always dying! A came up as Ya. C came up as Ko or Ro. I made do and bended them between both letter systems. Those letters became this:

What about you?

Have you ever checked into your family crest
or sealed a letter with a monogram?

Happy sealing!

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NYKR Short Stories, HVC & Novel

Several things have been waiting on my list for nearly a month now, but between the Manhattan/Long Island trip, the school load and teaching it’s all backlogged, leaving a void that’s ready to implode like that house. Black critique ink covers the pages of fiction from the New Yorker issues I’ve yet to analyze. Three movies call my name from afar: The King’s Speech, True Grit & Exit through the Gift Shop. In the corner of the house, the Harvard Classics echo that call, begging for May 23rd.

My novel’s at a stopping point (NO it’s not writer’s block… it’s merely a temporary pausal form of the language I’m using… stretched over two weeks). The Cartographer’s Guild encouraged me by praising my map. The Wise Man’s Fear discussion kept me occupied until I picked up A Game of Thrones, then the muse who analyzes literature on the white shores

of my mind went into angsty-conflicted mode and freaked out (explaining the lull in my alchemy posts). The 46 @ 23 poetry thing kept a frequent flow of poetry, but let’s face it – the only people who read poetry, write poetry.

As a result, I’ve posted few quality thoughts of late and this is something of an apology for the handful of you that read this puppy consistently. Ironically, the last few weeks doubled the amount of hits on the site, but I attribute that mainly to the words “sex” and “kvothe” being used in the same breath.

I hope, after the 46 @ 23 gig to get back on pace for the usual, but as for now, suffer through the lull with me. The end is in sight.

With love from your home-grown subversive Literator,

Lancelot.

Kvothe’s Sex Life Part 2: Felurian & The Adem

Well, gang, here we go again. Last time, I talked on Kvothe’s Sex Life, I had only finished NOTW and started WMF. Having finished WMF, I got a flurry of questions about sex and literature and “where do babies come from” and “go ask your parents, they’ll hate me if I tell you” and so forth.

Since then, I keep returning to a handful of themes. (1) Rothfuss, as charitable and joyful as he is, would not call himself a Christian from what I’ve gathered on his blog. Because of this, it’s not helpful for Christians to super-impose theology on his books. (2) However, the man has a robust idea of what redemption is/isn’t and how resurrection plays out. He certainly expresses those opinions in the legends inside his books and in Kvothe in general. Because of this, I learn all sorts of things from him. (3) In light of these two, Christians keep asking me what I do with all the sexuality. Since Literating is a diverse place, I’ll do what I can to hit both sides of the fence, although it’s a sticky question. There will be spoilers, so if you haven’t read the book, you should not Continue reading

Felurian’s Metre

The following poem works backwards from the obvious rhyme schema on page 657 of Wise Man’s Fear, in order to expose the BRILLIANT meter of Felurian’s speech (which Kvothe picks up on later, more as an illustration of his growing understanding of Felurian’s world). I have cut it off before it spoils anything, but if you click continue reading, it will probably ruin something:

would my sweet flame like
a coat? a cloak?
you are not good at keeping
yourself safe, my kvothe.
you are not a fighter.
yet you are all iron-bitten.
you are a sweet bird that cannot fly.
no bow. no knife. no chain.

you are a long walker.
you find me in the wild at night.
you are a deep knower.
and bold. and young.
and trouble finds you
would my sweet poet like a shaed? Continue reading

Alchemy & Kingkiller: Refining Kvothe

I wondered about the alchemy question when I read the first words of the series, “it was night again.” However, having spent all last year in academic study of Harry Potter, thanks to my long-distance friend & mentor John Granger, not to mention my entire wedding ceremony based around alchemical purification (yes, the video and running commentary are coming soon. . .), I did not want to jump the alchemical gun. (1) I could be wrong. (2) It could ruin the experience. . . emphasis on could. (3) There might be better discussion elsewhere on the Name of the Wind or Wise Man’s Fear.

But then I read the opening lines of Wise Man’s Fear: “dawn was coming.” At first, seeing that WMF’s prologue read as a one-page metaphor of a three-part silence, I thought he actually copied and pasted the whole thing from the first book. I didn’t mind it, in fact it set the tone well for WMF. But then, halfway through the reading, I pulled out both prologues & made a comparison. Here’s the differences between the two, with NOTW on top of each couplet & WMF on bottom:

(1)
It was night again
Dawn was coming

(2)
hollow, echoing quiet
vast, echoing quiet

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46 @ 23: The Mind of the Wind (38)

Once upon a time, I read that the perfect age for writing quality poetry is twenty-three.  Apparently most of T.S. Elliot’s stuff came out then, the rest having to do with non-poetic words. I realized January 19ththat I will turn twenty-four in three months, and since I started writing some poems before it’s too late: forty-six poems at twenty-three.  I’ll post each Friday until the last week of March, then I’ll post one a day until my birthday on April 30th.  Here’s number 38:

The wind awoke my sleeping mind
in gales, a blustered brainstorm
Astride quick wind from southwest fields
When soothing heat reformed me
Iced bitter wind collided there
Noreaster met the south breeze
They spiraled in my conscience blurring
Facts and times and instincts

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