Rope

In a book titled The Ropemaker it's a pretty safe bet that a rope isn't just a rope. But while we probably expect ropes to be popping up here and there and doing some symbolic work in a book with such a name, we're still pretty impressed with what rope represents here. Because in The Ropemaker ropes represent one of the biggest and most important concepts in human life: time. But you don't have to take our word for it—Faheel explains it quite clearly to Tilja:

"Time, I tell you, is a great rope. Wearing the ring, I have stood outside it and seen how its strands weave into other strands, back and forth, far beyond the instant in which we all live." (12.29)

In other words, time—like a rope—is comprised of various threads twisted together to make a whole. And while this implies a pretty cool interconnectedness, it also makes altering any thread—no matter how small it might seem—pretty risky business. For instance, after the Ropemaker rewinds time to save Alnor, Tahl, and Meena from Moonfist, he has the following exchange with Tahl:

"If you could change one thread, you'd change everything," said Tahl.

"Right," said the Ropemaker. "Went back last night, for instance, two, three minutes only, fiddled with a thread, let me pull you three clear of the fire, that's all. But more than I could chew, almost. Out beyond where I could see, felt the whole rope bucking and heaving around, all of time to come weaving itself fresh. Had to hang on, all my strength, to what I'd got fixed this side, stop it being messed up by stuff happening beyond, till it went and calmed down. Only just made it. Rocked me, that did, badly. Lucky to get back out." (18.56-57)

Even changing the course of just a few minutes takes intrepid effort on the Ropemaker's part, as the "whole rope" of time resists the alteration. And why wouldn't it resist? As Tahl says, changing one part "change[s] everything."

Because a rope combines lots of little things into one big thing, it's the perfect metaphor for time. Time consists of past, present, and future, and innumerable little events that make up each of those. Cutting one strand will remove everything that's attached to that strand, which may in turn cause other strands to unravel. It's nearly impossible to see how your actions can influence the specifics of the future, so it's good to be on the safe side and not fiddle with things you can't see the results of.

If you fiddle with one piece of the big puzzle, there can be a price to pay. Doing one small thing might save—or doom—an entire population. And by small, we really do mean small. When out this exchange between Tilja and Faheel:

"What would have happened if I'd changed that man's dice throw?" she asked when he rested again.

"Who knows? Nothing. The whole world. Suppose one man loses a bet he would have one. He needs money to pay. He steals and is found out. He is punished and loses promotion. So he does not become the Emperor's favorite, does not get to rule and ruin a province, but another man governs it well—why, then, you have changed the happiness of many hundreds of thousands of people. Or the other way round." (12.29)

By changing just the outcome of something as seemingly small and insignificant as a dice game, Tilja would put into effect an unknown sequence of events that could potentially change "the whole world." Yikes, right?

Knowing all this stuff about how ropes are a metaphor for time, what do you think of the book's title? Why is the Ropemaker (the magician, not the book) called the Ropemaker? We'd tell you what we think the answers are, but then we might unduly influence you—and permanently alter time.