While it certainly has the pagecount of a fantasy epic, and the profusion of silly names (the main character is called Kvothe), for the most part this is a banal and predictable tale; a vaguely likable hero is on a meandering quest of vengeance against a cliched cabal of powerful demigods who killed his parents. He's not in any hurry, however, and neither is the author, who's content to dawdle on the streets of 'Tarbean' with his homeless orphan hero, in a mystifying digression that expands neither our interest in the world or character the author is trying to build. As we follow Kvothe into 'The University', the story adopts a grittier and more practical approach to Harry Potter tropes. Kvothes' concerns become pettier and pettier, problems with tuition, and snarky professors, and of course, the rich-kid upperclassman who becomes his sworn enemy. Our hero's friends are all one-dimensional constructs who apparently are interested only in the events of Kvothes' life, a collection of speech patterns and superficial traits that mask their purpose as mirrors to further examine Kvothe -- who is himself a thinly disguised product of the author's own navel-gazing. If you're looking for truly epic Tolkien or Martin-scale world-building, look elsewhere. If you're looking for rousing adventure, unforgettable characters and emotionally wrenching plot twists, look elsewhere. If you're looking for a book that is excruciatingly underedited, and wish to torture yourself with pretentious prose passages that begin: "It was a silence of three parts...", then by all means, seek out 'The Name of the Wind'.