Sofia Musselman: Faust, Folly, and Fate

Since I last wrote here, I’ve been at work reading texts related to Goethe’s Faust. The first was Eric, by Terry Pratchett, jumping to contemporary fantasy to look for connections between Rothfuss and Goethe. Marketed as following a “would-be Faust,” I thought that this, perhaps, would be one way that Rothfuss became familiar with the story, but I didn’t find that. Although he is the titular character, Eric (our Faust stand-in) is not the primary figure. That title would go to Rincewind the wizard, whom Eric mistakenly summons instead of a demon. The two unwittingly embark on an adventure that shares little with Goethe’s Faust. The strongest similarity to the play is when they end up in their world’s equivalent of Troy, with Eric becoming infatuated with Helen. Besides that, his demonology, and his petulant greed, Eric otherwise shares nothing with Faust.

Then I read “The Chapbook of Doctor Faustus as Source and Model,” an essay by Ehrhard Bahr, which led me to read two other things: Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus and The Anxiety of Influence by Harold Bloom. Bahr’s essay explained how Doctor Faustus preceded Goethe’s and had a closer relationship with the source material, so it only felt proper to read it. Interestingly, I found that the involvement of Helen remained constant here. In every iteration I have read so far, Faust’s desire for her, along with his reckless behavior and overwhelming lust for “forbidden” knowledge are three constant and uniting features.

Excerpt from page 103 of The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss; highlighted portions denote similarities between Faust and Kvothe.

I read The Anxiety of Influence for perspective on what “influence” really means. As I am rereading The Name of the Wind and noticing parallels in scenes or symbols, I recognize that those are not, by themselves, substantial enough to argue for a significant relationship between Kvothe and Goethe. All images and symbols are taken from somewhere else, this is just “something that happens,” according to Bloom (71). It’s not so much about the presence of these images but how Rothfuss remolds them to his own ends and with his own voice. Whether or not I end up finding material– evidence or perhaps a truly influential intermediary text (like I was looking for with Eric)– I still believe the story of Faust in its many versions can inform our analysis of KKC and projection of where the story is going. Bahr was most helpful here in showing how subsequent versions of this myth change, especially in the end. Marlowe and the original text condemn Faust as a faithless sinner, damned by his folly and inability to repent. For Goethe, trying (even unsuccessfully) to do better is enough to be saved by. Thomas Mann, in the midst of WWII, questions this optimism and sees it as antipathy. He rejects this kind of redemption. As Rothfuss’ story stands, Kvothe feels extreme guilt for the as-of-yet revealed event that has caused a war and forced him into hiding. Unlike Marlowe, I don’t think Rothfuss will completely condemn him. Neither do I think that he will absolve Kvothe the way Goethe does. Where Mann rejected his predecessor’s ending, I believe Rothfuss will bring both together.

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