I finished Name of the Wind and now I’m mad that I loved it

I finally read The Name of the Wind after avoiding it for years, mostly because I knew the series wasn’t finished and I didn’t want to do this to myself. I kept seeing people argue about it online, some saying it’s one of the best fantasy books they’ve ever read, others saying it’s overrated and that starting it now is basically self-harm for readers who like closure. Naturally, I ignored the warning signs and read it anyway.

And damn it, I get it now. I get why people were obsessed. The framing story, the music, the university, the way Kvothe’s life feels like myth and memory getting tangled together. I know he can be arrogant and ridiculous and sometimes I wanted to physically remove him from his own decisions, but I was still completely hooked. It has that specific feeling I love in fantasy where the world seems bigger than the plot, like every song and rumor is pointing at something older and stranger just off-page.

Now I’m sitting here annoyed because I did exactly what everyone told me not to do. I got invested in the mysteries, the Chandrian, the Amyr, Denna, the doors of stone, all of it. And now I have to join the ancient order of people staring into the distance whenever book three gets mentioned. I don’t regret reading it, but I do feel like I knowingly walked into a beautiful unfinished house and got attached to every room. For those of you who read it years ago, how do you cope? Do you reread and suffer, pretend book two is an ending, or just accept that some stories become ghosts you visit occasionally?