Summer 2007 (33 page)

He was a charming little creature when I held him at
last, innocent as are the young of almost every animal, and friendly as are the
young of a very few.

I carried him back to the waiting girls, cautioned them
against permitting him to escape again (fruitless cautions, as you shall read),
and broached my plan. “Have you two ever thought of trading puppies for a few
days? A friend and I did it (this was a lie) when I was a boy. He took mine for
a week—maybe it was two, I can’t remember for sure—and I took his.
We both had a lot of fun. We learned something, too.”

Roberta asked, “Do you think our parents would let us?”

“I don’t see why not, and certainly there could be no
harm in asking.”

She turned to Julianne. “Do you think you could give up
Robber for a week if I gave you Rover?”

Hesitantly, Julianne nodded.

So it came to pass, even as I had planned. Julianne, the
human girl, went home with Rover, the flesh-and-blood dog. Roberta, the blond
robot girl, remained at home with Robber, the black-and-white robot dog.

I thought it a great improvement, and would fearlessly
have predicted that both dogs had found new homes.

In which I was wholly wrong. A few days later, I met
Julianne, and she had Robber once more. I petted him, and he wagged his tail
and licked my hand.

“He’s a nice dog,” Julianne said unnecessarily. “He
won’t bite.”

I said, “I didn’t imagine he would, but I’m surprised
you didn’t keep Rover longer.”

“I didn’t want to. I like Robber better.”

“I see. Can you tell me why?”

She shrugged and turned away. “He don’t mess the
carpet.”

After that I spoke with Roberta, and for once I did not
contrive some supposedly accidental encounter. She was playing with Rover in
her back yard, and I simply went to the hedge and told her I wanted to speak to
her. After all my pretense, it was a great relief.

“I’m going to pry, Roberta. I’m going to ask you about
things that are none of my business. I hope you’ll answer.”

She nodded.

“But if you don’t, I’ll understand. You and Julianne
were supposed to exchange dogs for week, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, we were.”

“But it ended after what? Three days?”

“Two.” Roberta would not meet my eyes.

“Was it you who called it off? Or Julianne?”

“It was both of us.” I must have looked doubtful,
because she added, “It really was. We were talking at recess, and we both
started crying. I—I don’t know why she didn’t like Rover.”

She seemed about to cry again. I kept my voice as soft
as I could. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Robber thinks he’s a real dog.” The words held a world
of agony.

“Does he?”

“Yes! He’s—he’s a
thing
, but he thinks he’s
a real dog.” She turned away and ran into her house.

Glancing out my picture window a few days after that, I
saw Dan and Tamara Robinson—and Roberta, too—roaming the
neighborhood with flashlights. I went out and asked how I might help, and they
explained that Rover was lost.

“Or missing,” I said.

I am not a brilliant man and this was not a brilliant
idea, simply what proved to be a useful one. You see, I recalled the
sentimental dog stories I had heard or read over the years. Lassie coming home,
Grayfriars Bobby, and all the rest. I got Julianne’s address from Roberta,
drove over there, and found Rover lying quietly by the side of the house, half
hidden by shrubbery, under a window that I would guess was that of Julianne’s
bedroom.

God forgive me! I picked him up and carried him home.

#

That should be the end of my story, and I wish it were.
Julianne and her mother came to the Robinsons’ the next day to get Robber, whom
Roberta had found waiting for her when she left for school. During the weeks
that followed, I saw him there twice, his dotted white coat plainly visible as
he waited on the Robinsons’ porch.

Twice, as I said. I have
never seen him again. Julianne says they keep him chained up.

Interview:
Patrick Rothfuss By Alethea Kontis

The first time I saw Patrick Rothfuss, he appeared on my
desk, cloaked all in black, with one of the largest post-it notes I’ve ever
seen plastered to him. The novella-length sticky was handwritten from the
publisher rep specifically to me, gushing about how this new guy was the
greatest thing since sliced bread and would I
pleasepleaseplease
read
The
Name of the Wind
and let them know what I thought?

It’s not the first time a publisher has fawned over an
author, but it is rare for a publisher to fawn over an SF/F author. I read the
note again and said aloud the same thing I said when I picked up one of the TWO
different versions of Patrick’s fabulous debut hardcover release:

Whippersnapper.

I decided I’d like to know a bit more about the
wunderkind that is Patrick Rothfuss, so I invited him to meet me at a virtual
café with the express purpose of discussing Life, The Universe, and Redheads.
He ordered a white chocolate mocha with a shot of blackberry and a cinnamon
bun. I ordered an iced vanilla chai and a d20.

Alethea Kontis: Did you ever play D&D?

Patrick Rothfuss:
Ah hell. My secret shame.
Here’s the deal. I’ll answer this question if everyone who hasn’t role-played
skips to the next question. Alright?

These days when I roll play, I use Hero system. D&D
will always have a special place in my heart, but the mechanics of Hero are
much cleaner. They allow a lot more flexibility in character creation, and more
versatility in the flavor of the game you want to run. You want to play an
X-men game? Hero will let you do that. Want cyberpunk? Steampunk? Star Wars?
High fantasy? A young arcanist seeking his fortune in the Four Corners? It’s
all good in Hero.

Over the years I’ve used the Hero system to field test
elements of my world before I wrote them into the book. Someday I hope to do a
Hero-system sourcebook for my world. Since I’ve already run a decade’s worth of
games in my world, I already have the mechanics worked out. I think that would
be a blast….

Check out
their website
if you’re curious.

AK: What character did you play?

PR:
For the most part, I played
wizards. I will even admit to playing a wild mage whose name was, in fact,
Kvothe. But the similarity stops there. You can bet your ass that at no point
in this series will Kvothe start running around casting Nahal’s Reckless
Dweomer.

AK: What was your opinion on thieves? (I was always a
thief. Being a magic user took too much friggin’ time choosing spells.)

PR:
I never played a thief. Which is
kinda odd, as Kvothe actually is as much a thief as he is a Wizard. Not that he
fits very well into the D&D paradigm at all…

That’s one of the main failings of D & D in my
opinion. The character creation process is not just limited, but rather
unrealistic. Why can’t a Wizard learn how to pick a lock? Why can’t a thief
learn some Hapkido? Things are better now in the newer editions, but they still
aren’t really fluid enough to create the sort of character I really want to
play. They can’t really create a character like Kvothe. That’s one of the main
reasons I’m in love with hero system. It’s easy to make Kvothe there. It’s easy
to make any character.

AK: What do you suppose is the literary world’s
fascination with redheads?

PR:
I don’t think it’s just the
literary world. All throughout history redheads have always been larger than
life. Gilgamesh. Alexander the Great, Ghengis Kahn. Napoleon, all redheads.
Even Jesus was rumored to have red hair, the deep color of wine.

In Germanic and Egyptian cultures, redheads were rumored
to have magic abilities, and occasionally, killed because of it. In ancient
Greece redheads were thought to become vampires after they died.

Almost every culture has some bizarre belief about
redheads, but no matter what the specific detail, it’s usually tied to magic,
power, charisma, and usually darker things as well.

Sound like anyone you know?

AK: Are you afraid of spiders?

PR:
Not for the most part. Not the
spiders we get up here in Wisconsin, anyway.

I went down to Florida for a wedding once and while I
was visiting the Weeki Wachee Mermaids, I saw a spider as big as my spread hand
hanging out in a web between two trees. I swear this thing would have been big
enough to kill and eat a kitten.

That’s part of the reason I like Wisconsin. Five months
of badass winter every year does a lot to keep the bugs in their place.

AK: How’s your memory?

PR:
It’s crap. Pure crap. Especially
for names. I can’t remember anyone’s name. I remember the person, but not what
I’m supposed to call them.

AK: What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to
you?

PR:
Hmmm… I live kind of a strange
life. You want to narrow it down for me? Care to ask about a particular subset
of strangeness?

AK: Okay, strangest thing profile: Where’s the strangest
place you’ve ever slept?

PR:
I can’t tell the story that would
answer this honestly. The statute of limitations hasn’t expired yet. Ask me
again in about… 19 months.

AK: The strangest thing you’ve learned as an author?

PR:
Female Hyenas have a penis. They
give birth through it.

AK: The strangest thing you’ve signed in a book?

PR:
I actually wrote a blog about
that. You can read it
here
.

AK: The strangest question you’ve ever been asked?

PR:
Normally people write in and ask
pretty reasonable questions. When’s book two coming out? Will you sign my copy
if I send it to you? Will you read my manuscript? I answer those so often I
should really put up an FAQ.

But there are a handful of… different questions mixed
in. So far the oddest one was from a girl who was coming to a family reunion in
Wisconsin. She… ah hell. Maybe I’ll just let you see it.

so i know you are all “famous author” guy who is
nominated for a Quill award, which is awesome, but you live in WI too and that
is the subject here. I am at a family reunion right now staying in a cabin with
like..20 family members 5 minutes outside of Oxford. So i kept seeing signs for
Steven’s Point and i couldn’t figure out how i knew that name. then my uncle is
talking about how “if you got about 20 minutes (leave room for embellishment)
that way it is flat as can be.” anyway then i figured it out and decided to
message you.

do u know of any sporting goods stores near here to get
a soccer ball? i know that there is a wal mart supercenter in portage but we
had to go there yesterday and i have this issue with going to wal mart too
much, as do most people. anyway, i was going out on a limb. i doubt you play
many sports, dont be offended

Yeah. Witness a little moment of my surreal life.

AK: Hah! Okay, how about the strangest thing you’ve ever
done to inspire yourself to write?

PR:
Heh. Another question best
answered by the blog I wrote on the subject. I don’t know if this counts at the
strangest, but it’s certainly the most recent…
http://www.patrickrothfuss.com/blog/2007/07/science.html

AK: Was it a conscious decision to make the chapters so
short?

In general, I just let them be whatever length they
needed to be.

But it
was
a conscious decision to avoid being
long-winded. Yes, I know, my book is over 650 pages. But you’ll notice that
very little of that is the classic boggy description and narration that so many
fantasy novels get mired in. God bless granddaddy Tolkien, but that’s one piece
of his style that I wish people would stop emulating. Yes. The grass lush and
inviting. We get it. Move on.

AK: Your book is available in two different covers.
Which is your favorite? What is your favorite cover of another author’s book?

PR:
Hmmm. It’s hard for me to really
pick one as a favorite, as I like them both for different reasons.

In terms of selling the book, this book tends to be
double or nothing. People tend to love this cover, or hate it. There doesn’t
seem to be any middle ground. Also, I’ve always worried that it gives the wrong
impression of the book. It looks vaguely romancy, and if people read my book
looking for a classic fantasy romance, they’re not going to get it.

You’ve got to admit though. This Kvothe is pretty hot.
Also, the artist, Donato, did an incredible job with the detail work. Look at
the pegbox of the lute and Kvothe’s hands. They’re gorgeous. I can barely draw
a stick-figure, so someone with his amount of talent is effectively a magician
to me.