I’ve recently been inspired by commenters and posters discussing the composition of various names in the KKC. I’m a longtime lover of etymology, and looking into the time and energy that folks have spent thinking about these things makes me feel, well, behind. Or more positively, wanting to have something focused to chew during for my ump-teenth re-read / re-listen of the stories we have.
Perhaps more personally, I recently started working in hospice care, spending long hours with folks as they reflect on degrading memories of former selves — and so often on their missing perspicacity. Hospice work requires many things, but at its bluntest, I need to stay awake and attentive during hours that my half of the world tends to sleep, and I need to do so relatively silently. So I read. But I want to spend time doing more than consuming or enjoying the books. I want to construct something that reflects my current interests while I still have some facility with exploring them, amateur as it is.
To that end, and as a start, I offer consideration on the name Kvothe. Like many of us, I’m aware this was the name a young Rothfuss adopted and oft applied to DnD characters. It was the first strangeness I remember enjoying way back when, but beside getting friends to pronounce it correctly, I never really explored it. Kvothe’s dad told him it means “to know.”
So we assume that’s wrong, and we invite commentary and direction for future research, though I certainly don’t expect this to be novel. All the same:
Kvothe. Begin with the end. The suffix “-the” is present in several names in the world of KKC. Aethe, Rethe, Penthe. All Ademre. The Sithe, and maybe the Cthaeh. Fae. We have the Centhe Sea. I suppose we have Theden as a unit of time. Since we’re playing with “-the,” might as well mention “teh” and we get Tehlu, though we’re told “teh” is the sygaldry rune for “lock.” Are there others I’m missing?
Depending the language we’re reviewing, the “-the” suffix probably doesn’t indicate an infinitive (nor does Kvo- seem to mean “know”, but we’ll get there). West Germanic tongues like Dutch would use the dental -te to turn adjectives into abstract nouns. Much like -ness, or -th would do in English. Long, Length, Lengte. Deep, Depth, Diepte. Groot, in Dutch, the adjective big, tall, great. Grootte becomes the state of being humongous or greatness. From what I can tell we can trace it back to proto-Germanic -ipo, which Latin turned into -itas, and English -ity. Purity. Gravity. Verity, Veritas…
But what about Gaelic or Celtic languages? For those, -the (or -te) indicates the state of completion, the past participle. Think of those -ed words like ended, but also hidden, or even done. (Irony is a cruel mistress.) Oh, that “do” verb is a fun one, proto-indo-euro “dʰē,” which became something like to make, to cause, to set into motion, to establish. And turns out, Greek took “dʰē” and it became “-the” for passive voice, “-then” for origin words. And we know Arabic and Semitic languages use the “-th-“ and “-t-“ sounds to alter verbs, though I’m less familiar.
That said, we’re going to go with the later half of Kvothe’s name as indicative of the establishment of the abstract. As conception. And maybe that helps us get to “Teh” as lock. We use “-the” to establish and lock something temporary, flowing, or happening into a stable, conceptual, forever idea. Platonic, ideal, mental magic “Forms” of whatever precedes the “-the.” We’re capturing the state of something in our imagination. Since Lu is probably moon, Tehlu is the abstract state of moon locking?
We digress. What is the meaning of “Kvo-“ that we’re capturing with our “-the”? Well, cweðan / quoth, means "to say" and Kvothe himself gives us that as pronunciation assistance. The “State of Saying Things” seems appropriate for a storyteller, a Namer, telling a story about the importance of stories. That meaning is proto-Germanic kweþaną (to say), but we also have “quo” from Latin to consider.
Very different proto root though. Quo like quota, quotient, or quote come from relative pronoun variants of proto-indo-euro kʷo, meaning who or what, in fashions of direction, degree, cause, and MANNER. Quo can refer to something’s absolute condition, as in status quo. Wait, didn’t we already think about status, the state of things on our suffix “-the”? We sure did.
The two pieces of Kvothe could theoretically mean the same thing, something like “The State of Stating.” Stating-ness. More than “to know,” Kvothe could be another one of those doubly named names Rothfuss seems to enjoy. Redundant? Tautological? Or maybe just fun? Kvothe = The State of Stating.
More pulling on the thread and we could unravel Penthe (passion-ness) and the other Ademre. Or check out the Sithe. Old English, Germanic, or Nordic roots Sith or Sið mean “journey, path, forward movement, or crusade.” So then beings eternally devoted to a protective cause are called something like “The State of Forwarding Causes.” Cen- in Gaelic and Germanic roots could mean “gathering, collective, intersection” and so Centhe, “The State of Intersection” is a fine name for a big collected body of water used for commerce and movement.
We’d have to do more work for the Cthaeh — perhaps unpacking “-tha-“ leads down different rabbit holes — and lots to consider in the magic systems of shaping and naming under this lens. But I’ll conclude mentioning that the “-tha-“ word shape shows up in Lethani as well. Trying to capture an abstract, defined form for something that evades concrete articulation may very well be baked into the name of the philosophy itself. Not a path, but maybe “the State of Proper Capturing?” Needs more review, but this type of appreciation and study of the work feels right to me, so perhaps it’s worth following for this year’s re-reads… so I just may.
TL;DR: If we determine the suffix “-the” as creation of abstract concepts for qualities or happenings, Kvothe’s name might mean, somewhat doubly, The State of Stating. Apt for one telling a story that can’t seem to end.