Category Archives: foreign happenings

Published: April 23, 2009

A Love Note to Germany (And Other Things)

Okay. There’s been a flurry of excited messaging ever since I mentioned I’d be making a trip to Europe, and was willing to sign books while I’m over there. Details are over here on the previous blog.

Here are a few general comments and some answers to questions in response to the hubbub.

To my German Readers:

Oh my German readers. I do love you. I love you with a fierce love that is big as the sky. I know there are many of you. I know you would like me to stop in your country and sign books and do various authory things.

Do not think that I scorn you. Do not think that I neglect you. Do not think I fail to appreciate you, because I do. It is because of you that I can now legitimately call myself “International Bestselling Author” Patrick Rothfuss.

Before that, I was forced to call myself merely “Skilled Lover of Women” Patrick Rothfuss or “That Strange Guy Who Sits in the Back of the Coffeeshop All the Time” Patrick Rothfuss.

I appreciate this. You must believe me. I love you.

But as for making a stop in Germany this time around. I just don’t think I’m going to be able to.

You see, Sarah, she says. “I would like to go to Rome.”

And I think, “Rome? Have they done five hardcover printings of my book in Rome? No. That was Germany. Did my book get all manner of cool reviews in Rome? No. That also was Germany. What of the swank little bookmark? Surely that was Rome? No. It was not.”

But you see, Sarah, she has this baby in her. This baby gives her remarkable powers.

I say to Sarah, “Where would you like to go on your trip to Europe?

Sarah says, “I would like to go to Rome.”

And lo. We go to Rome.

Sarah says, “Also, I would like to see Paris.”

And suddenly, it is so.

I’m not saying I’ll never visit you, Germany. I will. I promise. It’s just that when I do visit, I want everything to be perfect. I don’t want to rush this part of our relationship. I don’t want to go too fast. We need to be sure we’re both ready. I want this to be special for both of us.

Perhaps I’ll come to visit when book two is translated. Or maybe when your paperback comes out. Hopefully, if the German publishers are willing to help, we can do it up proper and I’ll hit a bunch of places all over Germany, rather than just making a two-day stop in one city.

Be patient, I love you.

Sincerely,

pat

To my readers in Dublin:

As above. I was really hoping to make it there during this trip, but it just didn’t work out. You’ll see me before too long. I promise.

To my readers in other countries:

I would love to come to Sweden. To Ireland. To Spain. To Belgium. To Estonia. To Finland. I would love to come to Russia. To the Czech Republic. To Turkey. To Wales. To Portugal….

I’m sure you can see the problem.

If you can’t see the problem, it’s this: if I went to all of these countries, I wouldn’t have time to do anything but drive around. I wouldn’t see anything except through the window of a train. It’s pure logistics. I can’t do it all this trip. Someday. Hopefully.

To people eager to help schedule a signing:

1. If you want your local bookstore to host a signing, you need to tell *them* you’re excited about it, not me. I’m already interested in doing a signing. So are you. We’re on the same page. We’ve established a rapport.

But without the bookstore it’s just not going to work out. It’s like a three-way. It doesn’t matter how much you and me want it. Without that third person, it just doesn’t work out.

2. If you have a friend/relative/lover/former roommate that works in a bookstore, and you think they’d be excited to help schedule a signing. Contact *them* about it, see if they’re really interested, then have them drop me a line if they are.

3. If you want to contact me about a potential signing, use the contact form. If you post it in the comments, I won’t know how to get in contact with you. I will be similarly helpless if you shout the information out your window, or write it on your bathroom mirror. Sad but true.

4. If your town isn’t on the list of places I’m stopping, I probably won’t be able to come out and do a signing. The possible exception to this is Manchester, as it’s on my way between London and Edinburgh. But even that depends on the interest of the local bookstore. (See #1)

That said, if you’re actually one of the folks in charge of scheduling events in a bookstore or a library, and you’d REALLY like me to stop in, you can still drop me a line.

A few quick answers:

Q: “Will I be posting up the dates, times, and places of the eventual signings?”

A: Um… Yes? Rest assured. I’ll be posting them here on the blog, and on the Tour Schedule Page.

Q: “How’s the book going?”

A: Very well. Don’t bug me about it. It harshes my vibe.

Q: “Does Sarah have any news about the baby?”

A: I just asked her. Sarah says: “It’s freaking huge.”

Q: “I live in a town in Europe! We have a bookstore! You should come here!”

A: That is not a question. Also, please see above points one through four inclusive.

Hugs and kisses,

pat

Also posted in appearances, BJ Hiorns Art, Sarah, signing books, travel abroad | By Pat72 Responses
Published: January 13, 2009

Introducing – the Slovak and Polish versions of the book.

Well it seems like most folks would like to see more Survival Guides. So we’ll do that. I’ll post up a few more of the old ones before too long, and send out a call for letters when I’m ready to start answering new one. So start stockpiling your problems now.

And, for those of you who give a care, here are the newest editions to The Name of the Wind family.

This cover should look familiar to most of you, as it’s pretty much the same as the UK cover.

(Click to Embiggen)

Soon, my thumb will be so famous from all these appearances that it will become a celebrity in its own right. I predict it will leave for Hollywood, have a whirlwind affair with Kate Moss, develop a drinking problem, and then eventually come crawling back to Wisconsin. Which is a good thing because I need it to hit the space bar.

Anyway, the Polish version of the book has lovely paper, and a new cover which clearly depicts the scene where Kvothe, um… goes forth. Into… some manner of… um cloudy desert.

I kid. I kid. I know that not ever book gets its own tailor-made cover. By now, when a version of my book comes out with a cover that’s obviously a piece of stock-art, I feel like it’s one of my kids coming up to me and saying. “Guess what happened today? I went out and fought a dragon, and met a guy with a nipple ring, and I rode an elephant, and it was really cool!” I know it’s not the truth, but it’s still my kid, and I can’t be too upset. I’m just glad he’s out there, meeting new people.

The other thing I do is make up little stories that go along with the cover. For this one the story would be:

Kvothe strode through the dread portal, leaning heavily on his staff. A lesser man might have been concerned by the skulls, or been anxious about the unnatural weather that loomed on the near horizon.

But Kvothe was made of sterner stuff than this, and his thoughts dwelled on ponderous matters: “My hat,” he thought to himself. “is certainly pointy. But is it pointy enough to impress the Archduke Isigniglidir?”

This morning he had been so sure, but now, looking at the Archduke’s tower, Kvothe worried. This was obviously a man who was not fond of half-measures where pointy was concerned. Kvothe also wondered if it might also explain why the Archduke’s new wife seemed so dissatisfied in her letter. “The tower.” She had written. “Should have been my first clue.”

Go on, take a stab at it yourself in the comments section. It’s tons of fun.

pat

Also posted in book covers | By Pat63 Responses
Published: December 11, 2008

The Perils of Translation: Babelfish.

Alright folks, while I’m dealing with the aftermath of the fundraiser, here’s a question from the mailbag.

Pat,

You’ve mentioned your translators on your blog before, generally in glowing terms. I don’t really see what the big deal is. You wrote something great. You made something out of nothing. But they’re not doing that. They’re not really making anything, they’re just…. copying it.

Plus, don’t you think that what they do is rapidly becoming obsolete? They already have programs that can translate languages. One wonders why they bother having people translators at all.

Your fan,

Steve

At first, Steve, I thought you might be pulling my leg with this e-mail. “Nobody could really think translation was easy,” I thought to myself. “He has to be putting me on.”

Then I realized that I’ve been having a crash course in the perils of translation over the last year and a half. And I remembered that most Americans are pointedly, painfully monolingual. And I remembered one of my friends saying as a joke, “How hard can it be to learn French? French babies do it all the time….”

So I’m going to take this question at face value, Steve. The truth is, translation has got to be one of the hardest jobs there is. Period.

First off, you have to be fluent in two languages. Not just kind of fluent, but *really* fluent. You need to understand the culture of the language you’re translating from, and the idiomatic speech.

Like what I said up there in my first paragraph. “Pulling my leg” is an idiom. It doesn’t mean what it actually says. If you’re pulling my leg, it mean you’re playing a joke on me, teasing me.

There are a thousand little things like that stand in the way of true fluency, and you can’t just copy them over into the new language and have them make any sense. For example, if I said, “You have a bird,” in Germany, I’m not actually saying anything about a bird. What I’m actually saying is that you’re crazy.

Secondly, you have to decide if a translation is going to be true to the letter of the work, or true to the spirit of the work.

What do I mean by this? Well… I’m reminded of what one of my favorite professors said when I asked him which version of the Odyssey I should read. I was looking for the best translation, and I trusted him, because he had a good old-fashioned classical education and could actually read Latin and Greek.

“It’s not really an issue of the best translation,” he said. “My old classics professor used to say, ‘a translation is like a woman. It can be beautiful, or it can be faithful, but it can’t be both….'”

Sexism aside, I think this strikes to the heart of the issue. A word-by-word translation is going to be clunky and awkward. But a beautiful one isn’t going to actually say the exact same thing as the original. A translator needs to walk that fine line between. Or rather, they have to dance madly back and forth over that line.

And as for translators being replaced by computer programs? I give a hearty laugh. Translation is not a science, it is an art. And as such, it belongs solely in the realm of humans.

Most everyone knows about Babelfish. Let me show you what something looks like when I use that program to translate something from English to German and back again. If this were as simple as plugging numbers into an equation, we should end up with the same thing we started with, right?

Here’s a paragraph most of you probably recognise:

I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.

You may have heard of me.

After Babelfish.

I stole princesses back of sleeping truck kings. I burned down the city of Trebon. I spent and with my reason and my life left the night with Felurian. I was away-driven of the university at a recent age, than most people are inside permitted. I step ways by moonlight, which others are afraid, in order to speak during from the day to. I spoke loved women and written Lieden, who let the Minnesänger cry with Gods.

They can have heard of me.

And that’s using German, a language so closely related to English that if they were people, it would be illegal for them to get married.

Look what happens when you do the same think with a language that’s *really* different, like Japanese:

I stole the king woman from wheelbarrow king of sleep. I burnt under the town of Trebon. I passed the night of Felurian, my sanity and went away with my life both. I was discharged rather than being able to allot most people from the university of a younger age. I the other people between day step on the road with the moonlight which is feared in order to speak concerning. I God, to the song by the document which makes the woman and the wandering minstrel cry who are loved spoke.

It can inquire about me.

Yeah. I think the translators’ jobs are safe for another year or two.

pat

Also posted in Ask the Author, Fanmail Q + A, my oracular impulse, translation | By Pat72 Responses
Published: November 4, 2008

The Art of Letting Go….

Today, as I sat at my computer answering e-mail and worrying about the election, a lovely person in Japan sent me this photo….

(The Great Buddha in Kamakura, reading my book.)

Seeing this picture made me realize that somewhere along the line, I have lost my way.

I used to be very Buddhist in my thinking. Well… perhaps not *very* Buddhist. But somewhat Buddhist, especially for a westerner. My philosophical beliefs are an eclectic hodgepodge at best, but there’s some good stuff in Buddhism. Stuff that makes a lot of sense.

One of the foundation stones of Buddhist philosophy is especially appealing to me. Namely, that desire leads to suffering.

For example: You see a kid at the grocery store. He wants a candy bar. His mom says no. Result? Suffering. He pitches a fit. Similarly, when I was in my early twenties, I spent a long time desiring various types of romance, and because none was forthcoming, suffering ensued. Much suffering.

It’s simple. The more things you desire, the greater your potential for suffering. It’s basic math. And when you stop to think about it, the solution is obvious. If you want less suffering in your life, you simply have to reduce your desires. You need to let go of things.

This particular truth fits in well with other parts of my personal philosophy: my love for simplicity, my appreciation for the cynicism of Diogenes, and my basic bumish laziness.

I used to be good at letting go. I kept my life simple and had few desires. That was what made it possible for me to work on my book for more than a decade without wanting to kill myself. I told myself the truth: that it would probably never be published. I did my best to avoid that desire (sometimes with only moderate success) and therefore saved myself a lot of disappointment over a great many years.

But lately, I’ve fallen from that path. I worry endlessly about all manner of things. I feel responsible for so much. I want to make sure book two is really good. I want to to be pleasing for my fans and successful for my publisher. I want to lose some weight. I want my country to get back on track, to take care of its citizens and stop shitting on the rest of the world. I want, I want, I want….

And for a year now, I’ve been wondering why, for the most part, I’m not really happy. It sounds really horrible to say, but it’s true. By the numbers, I’m way ahead of the game. But emotionally….

Here’s the deal. It’s one thing to be unhappy when your dog gets hit by a car and your house burns down. You should be unhappy then. Everyone can understand that. That’s a sensible response to your situation.

But when your book gets published, becomes a bestseller, and gets translated into a billion languages you’re supposed to feel good. You’re supposed to feel super-amazing-good. But a lot of times I don’t. That’s not sensible. I don’t understand it, and it frustrates me. Not only that, but it seems downright perverse at times. Then on top of it all, I feel like a real shit for not constantly feeling like the universe is giving me a hummer.

So why, I constantly ask myself, was I so perfectly content as a poor teacher with an unpublished book and 20,000 dollars of credit card debt? Now I own a goddamn riding lawnmower, and I worry about my lawn. For over a year now I’ve had a solid knot of tension nestled between my shoulderblades like a lump of hot lead. I worry about the next translation of my book. I worry about my carbon footprint. I worry that in writing this blog, I’m going to come off as an utterly self-absorbed frothing emo titmonkey.

But writing about it helps. That’s what I do, you see. I write about things. That’s my deal.

People who don’t write usually assume that writing is a process of communication. They think I have something in my head, and I’m just transcribing it onto the page.

But that really isn’t the truth. Writing is a process of discovery. I think about things, but then when I start to write about them, I learn things while I write. I figure things out *because* I write. This happens in poems. In those silly satire columns I write, in the novel, and today, it’s been happening here in the blog.

Right now in fact. I think I’ve finally put my finger on something important. Desire. I have been too much with the world lately, getting and spending. I think I need to start letting go.

I realize that might sound ominous, but it isn’t. I feel good. Better than I have in months. Letting go shouldn’t be seen as giving up, either. In Buddhist philosophy, once the problem of suffering is realized, there is still right thought and right action.

So now I’m going to go vote, largely without desire. It feels good letting go of that. Later I will work on the book without desire.

In between those two, I think I will go the Kebab House for lunch. Sometimes they serve a great soup called “Fire and Rice.” That, I think, I will desire just a little. Because it is really good soup, and no matter what else I might be, I’m still only human.

Later everyone,

pat

Also posted in Diogenes, hodgelany | By Pat61 Responses
Published: October 22, 2008

I’m Kind of a Big Deal (in Germany)

So the German edition of the book came out just a couple of weeks ago.

(As always – guest starring my thumb)

The book has serious heft. Good paper. Good binding. It is, in a word, gorgeous.

Holding this book in my hand made me realize that over in Germany, they consider my story fairly high-class. It make me realize that over there, I might even be considered literature.

There have been hints of this all through the publishing process. First, the publisher itself is very prestigious. (So they tell me.) Klett-Cotta carries very few fantasy authors, including luminaries like Tolkien and Peter S. Beagle. Klett-Cotta also assigned a very skilled translator to the job, which is always a good sign that they’re taking things seriously.

But that’s not what convinced me I might be thought of as literary over there.

Another big indicator was when someone from Germany came out to interview me. My first thought was, “Who did this poor guy piss off at work? How low on the totem pole in do you have to be before they send you to interview some newbie fantasy author in Middle-of-Nowhere Wisconsin?”

But it turns out the interviewer was Denis Scheck. I didn’t know it while the interview was taking place, but he’s actually a celebrity over in Germany. You know how Siskel and Ebert were celebrities because they reviewed movies? Well over in Germany, apparently, they care about books. Because of this, they also care about the people who read books.

Yeah, I know. Weird.

Anyway, while I didn’t know this guy was a celebrity, I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t there because he was getting punished. He was there because he was really, really good at his job. I’ve done a lot of interviews over the last year, and I’ll admit that by the time he showed up, I’d gotten a little blase about it.

But when he started talking, I realized he was playing the game at a whole different level. He was really clever, talking about things no interviewer had ever brought up before, asking questions I’d never been asked. Asking questions that I’d never even *considered *before. I remember at least one occasion where my answer was: “Wow. That’s a great question…. I have absolutely no idea how to answer it.”

If you’re interested (and can read German) his review is up over here. Or if you’re monolingual like me, you can click on the link *below* the interview to see a video clip of Denis talking about the book on his television show. Personally, I thought it was pretty cool even though I only know enough German to catch about a third of what he’s saying.

But back to my previous point. Even after I found out who Denis Scheck was, I didn’t realize that over there my book might be considered literary.

The fact that they converted my author photo black-and-white was a good indicator….

(Click to embiggen)

Why? Because black-and-white is classy. It’s arty. It’s posh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fond of my blue photo. But you have to admit that it makes me look like a Muppet, or a character out of a Harry Potter movie. But in B&W I look, if not distinguished, then withing spitting distance of respectable.

Or within spitting distance of being the sort of person who would never use the term, “within spitting distance.”

Still, none of these things are what convinced me. This is what did it:

That’s right. One of those built-in ribbon bookmarks. So genteel. So suave. Nothing screams sophistication like a ribbon bookmark. It’s the textual equivalent of wearing a silk smoking jacket and speaking with an Oxford accent. It is, in fact, dead sexy.

Today, my friends, I join the ranks of the literati.

Go me.

pat

Also posted in being awesome, cool things | By Pat66 Responses
Published: September 27, 2008

Available for a limited time only….

Did I forget to mention that I’m going to be up in Canada next weekend?

In case I did, I am. I’m going to be up in Vancouver. (The one in BC, not the one in Washington.)

The reason for this particular outing is V-Con. While I’ve done a lot of conventions lately, this one marks two notable firsts in my life….

The first first is that I’m not just attending this convention, I’m actually one of the Guests of Honor. It’s a pretty sweet gig so far. Not only are they paying my travel expenses, but I’m pretty sure that while I’m out there, someone is contractually obliged to fan me with a big leaf and feed me grapes.

The second first is a little embarrassing, actually. This will be the first time I’ve ever left the country. I feel like such an adult, I’ve got a passport and everything….

Anyway, I just thought I’d let y’all know that I was going to be out there. Part of the GOH gig is that I got to be very heavily involved with the programming, so I’m going to be doing readings, signings, and a metric ton of panels. So if you’ve ever wanted to hear me pontificate on all manner of diverse subjects, this is going to be a great opportunity.

Also, since I’m don’t know when I’m going to be up in that neck of the woods again, I’m going to do a reading/signing/Q&A session at one of the local bookstores. It’s on Tuesday the 7th (of October) at 7:00 at the Chapters out in Coquitlam. Because that signing got set up fairly recently, I’ve only made mention of it on Facebook so far. (Yeah, I’m on Facebook, feel free to add me if you’re into that sort of thing.)

Generally speaking, if you’re looking for information on my upcoming appearances, you can get the details over here on the “Tour Schedule” section of my webpage. I try to keep that as up to date as possible….

That’s all for now folks. Enjoy your weekend.

pat

Also posted in appearances, conventions | By Pat12 Responses
Published: September 23, 2008

A New Edition to the Family

It goes without saying that becoming a published author has changed my life.

If someone were to ask how, specifically, I’d probably mention one of the big things. How surreal it is when people recognise me in public. Or when I show up to a reading or a signing and there are dozens of people there. I could mention how I travel a lot more now, or the fact that I can spend up to 5-6 hours a day just keeping up with my e-mail correspondence.

But truthfully, one of the thousand small changes has been how I feel about getting the daily mail.

Up until about a two years ago, when all this publication stuff started, my mail was pretty normal. Most of it was junk: fliers, credit card applications, cupons. The stuff that wasn’t junk was usually unpleasant, like bills or notifications about my student loans.

Yeah sure. On some rare occasion something nice would show up. A card from mom with some cash in it, mail order something-or-other, a letter from a friend. But those were few and far between.

But now I love to get the mail. Every day is like a potential Christmas. I get all sorts of cool things. I get foreign contracts that I read and sign and mail back. I get free copies of books sent to me with the hope that I’ll read them, love them, and blurb them.

And I get checks in the mail. I won’t lie to you, that’s really cool. A lot of my life I’ve been pretty poor. Not *really* poor, of course. But student poor. I spent 11 years as a college student, and there were a lot of times when I was broke, the next paycheck was three days away, and the credit card was full. I’m sure a lot of you have had similar times in your life.

I remember getting sick once, and not having enough money to buy aspirin or orange juice. Another time, I remember digging through my cupboards, examining the cans of weird food. The food that you have left because you hate it. I remember thinking, “How old is this can of vegetable barley soup? Will it kill me?” Once I got behind on my rent and my landlord burst into my little one-room apartment, waking me from a dead sleep and threatening to throw me out onto the street.

Fast forward to now. Sometimes I pick up my mail and there’s a check in there. A check for money. A check for money that I didn’t even know would be showing up. Best of all, it’s money that I don’t immediately need for something, like paying my overdue phone bill, or buying groceries, or settling a debt with a friend who lent me a little bit to get by.

But perhaps even cooler is when things like this show up without my expecting it:

(Click to Embiggen)

I didn’t know the Danish version of the book was close to being finished. I’d never even seen the cover until I opened the envelope a couple days ago and found this inside.

I think this is translation number… six? Let me think, so far I’ve had editions in the UK, the Netherlands, Italy, Japan… Number five then. Six will probably be the German version that’s coming out later this month. I’m excited to see that one too.

Later all,

pat

Also posted in My checkered past, translation | By Pat36 Responses

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