Game of Thrones is to high fantasy what The Sopranos was to crime fiction: a captivating, enchanting opera filled with violence and intrigue that is simply a joy to follow.

HBO may be the basis of my comparison, but it by no means encompasses all that is right with this book (and presumably the series). And a full disclaimer: I only watched a handful of Sopranos episodes and am yet to watch my first GOT show.

As I type this, I am approximately the gazillionth reviewer to weigh in on Martin's book, which seems as popular as the plutonium rock band Disaster Area described by Douglas Adams in his own wildly popular The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's so big that it has its own zip code and several schools of thought on its tax code treatment.

It took me a while to approach this book. For one thing, it's the first in a series, and after years of therapy, I'm slowly opening up to the idea that it's okay to contemplate a story that is intended to be several books. Also, its popularity held me back. The HBO adaptation and book sales catapulted this swords and heroes story into the mainstream, and I'm an outer fringe guy. I had to be coaxed into the light. Finally, it's a "bigun," a phone book-sized Chinese buffet of fantasy that weighs in at a hefty 848 pages. I'm a 60s pulp fan, and anything over 250 pages makes me reach for the Rolaids.

So what's all the fuss about?

For one, it's a damn cool story. Martin is a gifted writer who can string together a sentence or two. The world-building is epic in scope and on par with Tolkien and Frank Herbert. His dual storyline of Westeros and Essos makes me think he was melding the feudalism of Tolkien with the Fremen mythos of Herbert.

Perhaps most compelling is his deft characterization. To be sure, we have scores of NPCs who fill the pages, but a few players are truly three-dimensional and dynamic. Tyrion, "The Imp," is a dwarf born of a rich and proud (but twisted as hell) house, and his psychosis could be a study in survival. Then there are the Starks, noble and principled, but also naïve to the point of ridiculousness – except for Arya, who's a little spitfire and I think will be fun to watch in the upcoming books. Jon Snow is another character with some depth, but for my money, I'm watching Daenerys Targaryen; she's carrying some serious baggage but seems to have something in the trunk to back it up.

The length wasn't that big a deal because it's a page-turner. Violent – yes, but a prospective reader should know that going in, and Martin pulls no punches. As they say in Dothraki, "either get on your horse and ride or eat grass with the sheep" – or something like that.

I'll be reading more; this is too good to miss.

** 2019 - Just started watching the HBO series. I know I'm late to the party, but it's fun so far. The first few episodes seem to follow the books fairly closely, but I know the storyline will diverge. My wife has neither read the books nor seen the show, so we're watching together, and that's fun. Trying to help her understand the vast world-building makes me again appreciate and admire Martin's work.

*** 2019 - The series has ended - alas.

I've read all of the books and watched all the episodes, and I thought the ending was good. I can appreciate many of the complaints I've heard, but honestly, how was it supposed to end? I would have been upset if we got a Hollywood ending with a Disney moment. This was GAME OF THRONES, for God's sake. It was dark from the beginning, and having Daenerys and Jon Snow be complicated added immeasurably to the story.

Did the ending set up for spin-offs? Sure! But why not? This was a fun show to watch, and I'd LOVE to follow Arya when she discovers what is west of Westeros. To Martin and the HBO crew: well done.

My complete review is published at Grimdark Magazine.

Life is filled with countless insignificant events, those small perturbations that usually have no real consequence. However, every now and then, the conditions align just right for a tiny perturbation to snowball into something that can completely transform the entire world, leaving an indelible mark on history. It could be the start of a World War, or the outbreak of a global pandemic. The impact of a single, seemingly unimportant event can expand to enormous proportions, upsetting the delicate balance of the world.

The same principle holds true for A Game of Thrones, the first volume of A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin. In this society, filled with opposing political factions and personal deceit, everything teeters precariously on the assumption that hidden duplicity remains hidden behind a veil of secrecy. But then, a seemingly insignificant event shatters that illusion. A young boy climbs a wall and witnesses something he shouldn't see and doesn't even understand.

The influence of A Game of Thrones on the world of fantasy cannot be emphasized enough. Its publication in 1996 brought about a revolutionary change in fantasy literature, which had been following the blueprint set by J.R.R. Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings for decades. Since its release in the 1950s, The Lord of the Rings had become the most influential work of fantasy ever written, inspiring countless imitations. However, none of these imitations could match the impact achieved by Tolkien. His cultural influence extended far beyond the realm of literature, encompassing cinema (Peter Jackson), music (Led Zeppelin), and various role-playing games, including both tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons and video games such as the Final Fantasy series.

Tolkien combined extensive, detailed worldbuilding with an epic good-versus-evil struggle of biblical proportions. Although Frodo battles mightily against the corrupting power of the One Ring, there is never any doubt that he is on the side of good, a Christ-like figure willing to sacrifice himself to save others. Only two notable characters in The Lord of the Rings exhibit discernible gray morality. The most obvious of these is Gollum/Sméagol, but his gray morality is simply a combination of two dichotomous personas, one good (Sméagol) and the other evil (Gollum). The other character is, of course, Boromir, who is essentially good but is ultimately seduced by the Ring, becoming the Judas Iscariot figure of the Fellowship.

In A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin adopted Tolkienesque worldbuilding while taking an opposite approach to character morality. Both Middle-earth and Westeros feel authentic because they are so fully realized, complete with their own history and culture, providing the reader with a fully immersive experience where they can suspend their own reality and delve into a richly detailed new world. The main difference lies in the gritty approach that Martin has taken towards character morality, making A Game of Thrones one of the first true grimdark fantasies. While Middle-earth is a world of black and white, Martin uses a full spectrum of gray to paint his cast of characters. If Tolkien wrote an allegory for the epic battle of Christ versus Satan, then George R.R. Martin is more interested in the sneering Pontius Pilate, questioning the very meaning of truth itself.

By presenting a grittier, more realistic approach to fantasy, A Game of Thrones became part of a larger cultural movement that emerged in the 1990s. For example, around the same time, grunge bands such as Soundgarden and Alice in Chains rose to prominence, bringing an unapologetic rawness and honesty to a music scene that, in the previous decade, had been hiding behind a façade of synthetic sounds, big hair, and heavy makeup. More than a quarter century later, A Game of Thrones has rightfully become one of the most respected and influential works of fantasy. A Song of Ice and Fire has sold nearly 100 million books worldwide, making it one of the best-selling series of all time.

Rereading A Game of Thrones, it's easy to see why. George R.R. Martin is an outstanding writer. Given the complexity of the world and the plot, this book could have easily become unreadable in less capable hands. But Martin does an excellent job of introducing us to the characters and worldbuilding in a natural and accessible way. A Game of Thrones is never a chore, and the pacing is remarkably consistent throughout the book. Although A Game of Thrones is a work of fantasy, the magical elements are of secondary importance, at least in this first volume of A Song of Ice and Fire. Instead, A Game of Thrones is driven by its wonderful cast of characters. George R.R. Martin has created some of the finest characters in all of fantasy, including the inimitable Tyrion Lannister, whose astute political skills are paired with a sharp wit and a genuine kindness towards the less fortunate.

One of the interesting decisions made by George R.R. Martin is that, out of the eight point-of-view characters in A Game of Thrones, five are children. Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen are both 14 years old at the beginning of A Song of Ice and Fire. Among the Stark children, Sansa is 11, Arya is 9, and Bran is 7. Beyond these point-of-view characters, Robb Stark is 14 and Joffrey Baratheon is 12. This may come as a surprise to fans of the HBO series, as all the actors portraying these characters were significantly older than the characters themselves. Given their young age, the terrible situations that these children experience in A Game of Thrones become even more harrowing. I particularly admire the way Daenerys overcomes unspeakably horrible abuse to grow into the strong, self-assured leader that she becomes.

We are now living with the legacy of A Game of Thrones, with its profound impact on both grimdark fantasy and epic fantasy in general. One prominent example is The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson, which is clearly influenced by the narrative structure, expansive worldbuilding, and character-driven plot of A Game of Thrones. Both are filled with political intrigue and focus on warring factions in a fractured society who are fighting each other when they should be concentrating on a more sinister enemy that poses an existential threat to their civilization. Does this remind you of anywhere else? Although A Game of Thrones emerged in the 1990s, I would argue that it is even more relevant today in our own time, which is plagued by political extremism and a breakdown of global order, where irrational nationalism prevails over our ability to confront the serious existential threats facing our society. A Game of Thrones is one of the finest and most influential books ever published, and its impact continues to grow. If you have somehow postponed reading A Game of Thrones, please set aside any reservations you may have and just jump in. You won't be disappointed.

**"A Game of Thrones" by George R.R. Martin: An Epic Fantasy Adventure**

"A Game of Thrones" is the captivating first novel in George R.R. Martin's renowned "A Song of Ice and Fire" series. First published on August 1, 1996, it has since won the 1997 Locus Award and been nominated for the 1997 Nebula Award and the 1997 World Fantasy Award. In 2011, it became a New York Times Bestseller, reaching the top spot in July.

The story begins with Lord Eddard "Ned" Stark executing a deserter from the Night's Watch. On the way back, his children adopt six direwolf pups, which align with his three trueborn sons, two trueborn daughters, and one bastard son. That night, Ned learns of the death of his mentor, Lord Jon Arryn. Robert Baratheon, Ned's childhood friend and the king, visits Winterfell and recruits Ned to replace Arryn as the King's Hand. Ned is reluctant but agrees when he discovers that Arryn's widow believes Queen Cersei Lannister and her family poisoned Arryn. Shortly after, Ned's son Bran accidentally discovers Cersei having an affair with her twin brother Jaime Lannister, and Jaime throws Bran from a tower to hide their secret.

The novel features a vast and diverse cast of characters, including Brandon Stark, Catelyn Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and many more. Each character has their own motives, desires, and flaws, making them complex and engaging. The story is set in a rich and detailed world, filled with political intrigue, war, and magic.
Overall, "A Game of Thrones" is a must-read for fans of fantasy literature. It combines elements of adventure, drama, and mystery to create a truly immersive and unforgettable reading experience.

Winter is coming. A book with countless reviews seemingly doesn't require yet another one to disclose what to anticipate from it. So why bother? Let's cut to the chase. This is depicted as epic fantasy firmly rooted in historical realism. It implies that the reader should be able to identify an outline of the periods, the peoples, and the sociopolitical environment upon which the structure of the fictional world of GoT is built. Fortunately, this isn't hard to discover, although most readers, if my impressions are accurate, aren't interested in the social, political, and cultural roots of this world. However, I am, and here's the reason. Martin has gathered snippets from various historical sources to create a dazzling collage that is both fascinating and repulsive. This world is conveniently medieval-ish. Westeros and its seven kingdoms, as the name suggests, is The West or Old Europe, broadly speaking. On a smaller scale, Westeros doubles as Great Britain. In the north lies the dreary, grey-blue, cold expanse of Winterfell (Scotland), inhabited by the weather-hardened, thick-skinned, honourable yet slightly humourless House Stark. In the south, we have King’s Landing (London) as the capital of Westeros. The Lannisters are modelled after the wily old English folks: Machiavellian, power-hungry, wealthy, constantly plotting to seize the Iron Throne and assert their dominance over other houses and kingdoms. They have crimson banners adorned with a roaring lion as their sigil. No speculation needed. Anyone who has watched Braveheart or read a little about the history of symbols and contemporary popular imagination can immediately tell it's an effortless borrowing with little creative effort behind it.

The so-called Narrow Sea separates Westeros in the east from the other half of Martin’s world. It consists of a few Free Cities and, a bit further, the wasteland of Vaes Dothrak, home to a ‘savage’ community called Dothraki Horselords. Beyond that, there are unknown and mysterious lands outside the borders of civilisation. Here begins the orientalisation of GoT. The Dothraki Horselords are fashioned after the Mongols (Khal Drogo = Khan Genghis), who already suffer from an overly negative image created and popularised by the Orientalists as a brutal murdering horde whose only purpose in life was to loot cities to the last dime and burn them to the last house. This is quite a sham of a theory if you care to investigate. But here Martin caters to the popular imagination by portraying them worse than they are supposed to be.

It may be argued that it’s just an invention to serve the purpose of a fantasy story; that it may not necessarily bear resemblance to a historical people or their reality. I don't think so. We have seen that Martin is not interested in being very original, except when he creates fantastical creatures. All human communities are taken from history and as long as this is the case, it would be difficult to excuse reinforced stereotypes under the guise of creative freedom. Worse, Martin borrows language and ideas about racial categories that bear a striking resemblance to what has come down to us through the most racist of Orientalist writing. Here medievalism transforms into a colonial superiority complex that is all too familiar to us. Someone explains to the poor Westerosi princess in exile: "The Dothraki mate like animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a Khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do." Early Orientalists have used these lines to deculturize Eastern peoples, so that some ‘civilization’ could be forced upon them, for their own good.

Another example: "All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built." and "See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men." This was said when the Dothraki failed to understand the “Common Tongue” of Westeros – the same “Common Tongue” in which the book is written. It may be contended that these depictions represent the ignorance of the Westerosis about lands and people alien to them, faithfully reflecting the views of so many generations of Westerners, and that Martin is just reporting, not framing. This would be a valid argument if the author had balanced it with a different (and more humane) perspective on the people he had his Westerosi characters attack repeatedly. But this doesn't happen. They remain a warring savage tribe with no settled towns and hamlets to return to, sleepwalking towards self-destruction in their internecine civil wars, right until the end, with no redeeming qualities except bravery; but even their bravery is ridiculous, crude, and rash. And the lands east of the Narrow Sea remain shadowy, mysterious places, not understood but accepted, something to work around and get out of as soon as possible. The perspective of the Targaryen princess, our Westerosi exile, is projected onto the whole region and accepted as true.

To allay my doubts, I watched two episodes of season 1 and then clicked through a few clips of Dothraki speech. An amusing surprise awaited me. Here, the Mongol-Dothrakis were given a fictional language that sounds nothing like how Mongols or Central Asians speak; instead, it betrays a phonetic resemblance to Semitic languages, and which language might that be? Of course not Hebrew. Here, the savage Mongol meets the savage Arab, in a perfect mix of neo-Orientalist projections.

Now, my rating-reviewing principles do not permit me to rate down a book solely for its objectionable sociopolitical content. Fair or not, I'm a stickler for writing, imagistic richness, wit, and humour, the invention of style, and all that stuff. There's enough to admire here. The sheer magnitude of the invention means the reader is constantly grappling with a plethora of characters and their idiosyncrasies, shenanigans, and endless intrigues, which give it the illusion of a fast-paced, action-packed narrative, which it is. Towards the end, when I reflect back, I realise not much has happened in the entire span of 800 or so pages; the story is very basic (and unfinished) if reduced to its essential elements. This must be due to the fact that what I have read is less than one-fifth of the whole story, even less than that if Martin defies age and starts working on installment #7, so characters that seem stunted or underdeveloped will perhaps come into their own in the later installments. But of those who have been diminished in the first installment, both Eddard Stark and King Robert Baratheon are stereotypes. Lord Eddard is a cold, grey, gloomy, unsmiling, predictable Northerner who wears his honour on his sleeve. Despite his stoic wisdom, his faultless do-gooder philosophy makes him a helpless pawn in the hands of the sly and the scheming, for which he pays a high price.

King Robert, likewise, has lost his marbles after a decade and a half of power: couldn't-care-less, drunkard, hunter, whoremonger, a typical idle-minded stereotype of a king blind to the Lannister plots hatched right under his nose, whom even a friend as old and loyal as Eddard can't make see. Seven hells, they are not the complex characters Martin is so renowned for. Perhaps the living ones carried over to the next books will develop as the story progresses. In any case, if I were to name my favourite character of Got #1, it would be Tyrian Lannister hands down - the imp, the endearing and intelligent dwarf!

So… Do I like the thing? Affirmative. Do I think it special, extraordinary, unique? Seven hells no.

September '15.

4 stars!



“When you play a game of thrones you win or you die.”







Wow, what an amazing novel! I purchased my paperback copy of this book many years ago, just before the series premiered for the first time. I had always intended to read it, but over the course of about seven years, my reading preferences shifted away from fantasy and towards romance for a solid six years. Now, I'm back! And I finally read this remarkable book. It only took me four and a half days, which is a miracle in itself.



Anyway, I apologize in advance because my review might draw some comparisons to the TV series. Since I watched the show first, my brain can't help but make those comparisons. I will say that their adaptation of the book, at least for the first season, is almost perfect. I also want to note that if I hadn't watched the show, I might have given up on this book because there were some slow parts. If I didn't know that those details would become important later, I would have been sitting there reading and cursing the author for including what seemed like extraneous information.



All that being said, "A Game of Thrones" is set in a land where a global phenomenon alters the seasons, making them last longer than usual. They are emerging from a nine-year summer, which is why everyone keeps saying "Winter is coming." Lord Eddard Stark is approached by the King, an old friend, to become his right-hand man or officially The Hand of the King. Despite his misgivings, Ned accepts, mostly due to the urging of his wife, and is drawn into a world of deception and murder.





“Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”



Based on my knowledge of the show (and yes, I'm all caught up), I noticed hints that Martin dropped in this book that came true much later in the series. So, kudos to a brilliantly crafted plot. The beginning of the book was a bit slow, but the middle part I devoured quickly. Then, around page 600, it slowed down again. There were so many character names being thrown around that I found myself googling who they were. Once I saw the actors who played them, I understood what was happening. I also saw many DNF reviews around page 600 or so, and I completely understand where those readers are coming from. That was a slow 100 pages in the book.



My least favorite POV chapters were Eddard, Catelyn, and Bran. They didn't quite resonate with me as much, which is a shame, but I still like them as characters. My favorite POVs were Tyrion, Jon, and Arya. Basically, the characters I love the most on the show. I absolutely adore Tyrion and understand why readers love him. Knowing his inner thoughts and how incredibly smart he is, I just wanted to hug him all the time. I felt a bit more for Sansa when reading from her perspective. She was truly a young girl who believed the best in the wrong people and paid a heavy price for it. It was a harsh life lesson, but one that was bound to happen.



Anyway, I'm very glad I finally sat down and read this book. From what most readers have told me, the series only gets better in books 2 and 3, so I'm looking forward to reading those. I'm going to take a break before continuing, but that doesn't really matter because I'm sure I could take years to read these books and "Winds of Winter" still wouldn't have been released. Maybe Brandon Sanderson could finish the series? Just kidding. Sort of.



“Fear cuts deeper than swords.”






Follow me on ♥ Facebook ♥ Blog ♥ Instagram ♥ Twitter ♥

I listened to this audiobook after watching the HBO series.

And I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed the first installment out of the seven.

The writing in this book is truly outstanding. It manages to bring the story and the characters to life in a vivid and engaging way.

The details are so rich that it feels like you are actually there in the world of Westeros.

Now that I have finished the first book, I am eagerly looking forward to diving into the second one, "A Clash of Kings".

I have no doubt that it will be just as精彩 as the first.

This book definitely deserves a full 10 out of 10 stars.

It is a must-read for any fan of the fantasy genre or anyone who enjoys a good story.

I highly recommend it.

Reader Logic:

Reader Logic:


I have an intense loathing for this book. It's not just a mild dislike; it's a full-blown hatred. So much so that I felt compelled to purchase a new hardback copy just so I could underline all the aspects that I detest and share them on Goodreads.


My hatred is so passionate that I also bought copies for all my friends and family, all in new hardback editions, so they could experience the same hatred as I do.


When the TV series premiered, I was filled with such rage that I watched the entire season twice and even bought six copies of the DVD. I couldn't believe how strongly I could hate something.


I've spent countless hours discussing my hatred for this with all my friends, who also hate it and have all bought copies. In fact, my hatred is so profound that I decided to get a George RR Martin tattoo on my buttock to showcase the intensity of my loathing for his work.


At that time, there was a sense of collectivity, as if everyone was uniting in their hatred for this. Some of us even formed relationships based on this shared hatred. I met my wife at a George RR Martin convention, and we got married as one of the characters, reciting parts of the book for our vows. We even paid GRRM all our life savings to come and read from his horrible book.


Our hatred for this is beyond comprehension. Maybe one day, we'll come across a book that we actually like, and the author can reap the rewards of our love instead of our hatred.

**A Captivating Introduction to an Epic Fantasy World**

The start of A Song of Ice and Fire series with A Game of Thrones is truly magnificent. It has the power to draw in readers, especially those who are fans of the TV series Game of Thrones.

Like many, I was introduced to this world through the TV show. After being captivated by the first season, I picked up the book. However, at first, I struggled to finish it as the TV show had already presented the story so well. But years later, I gave it another try and was completely hooked.

The book offers more in-depth characterizations and world-building. The internal thoughts of the characters add a new layer to their personalities, making them more relatable and believable. The complex world that Martin has created is filled with history, politics, and countless characters, all of which are interconnected.

The unpredictability of Martin's storytelling is one of the series' greatest strengths. He doesn't shy away from killing off main characters, which keeps the readers on the edge of their seats. This sense of danger and uncertainty adds an intensity that is rare in fantasy novels.

Even if you've watched the first season of the TV show, reading A Game of Thrones is still a worthwhile experience. It offers a deeper understanding of the story and characters, and the beautiful prose and detailed world-building make it a joy to read.

In conclusion, A Game of Thrones is an outstanding beginning to an incomplete but legendary fantasy series. It has something for everyone, whether you're a fan of the TV show or a die-hard fantasy reader. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for an immersive and engaging read.

I feel grossly inadequate when it comes to reviewing this book, this truly wonderful book that I just finished reading.

It is with great misfortune that I must report that I was quite spoiled before delving into it. I was already aware of many of the prominent points, most of which emerged in just the first book alone. The spoiler revelations were entirely my own fault. I asked for it.

A few years ago, I had read the first three chapters and then abandoned the book. I was put off by the bleak violence, cruelty, and sadness that pervaded it. If the beginning was like that, what horrors awaited later?

My brother, who never reads, picked up the five books and devoured them all in a month. To this day, he doesn't know why he did it. Long story short, I told him that I'd never read these books. And then he asked my permission to give spoilers. As I said, it's all my fault.

There is an abundance of unhappiness in this book. There are two types of bad outcomes. There are also happy events, but they always precede something wrong and are scarce. These two types of events are things that simply go awry and, secondly, things that are evil in nature and occur thick and fast, with no relief.

The deaths in this book are so masterfully manipulated that it's almost a delight to have our emotions toyed with. When the major death takes place, all bets are off. As readers who are accustomed to different styles, now that we are in the author's clutches, we have no idea what to expect. That's not even half of it.

As a major work of fantasy, I was very pleased to find that there was no overindulgence in detailed worldbuilding. The tone and style suited me perfectly. I hope this holds true for all of the books. I can't fault the writer for anything. This book is not perfect, and armed with the spoilers, I couldn't give A Game of Thrones the pedestal it truly deserves. But let me tell you one thing. I'm so impressed that I fully expect the rest of the books to receive 5 stars as well. Completing this book has made me realize how much my tastes as a reader have evolved. What the next book will bring is as much a mystery as my own future trajectory.

There are numerous fantasy authors who assert that they are doing something distinct within the genre. Paradoxically, they frequently pen the most foreseeable books, as seen with Goodkind and Paolini. I'm not entirely certain why they protest so vehemently - predictability isn't necessarily a death knell in genre fantasy.

The classic tale of a hero, a villain, a profound love, and a world in need of salvation never seems to lose its charm - it's a great story when told well. At its best, it's exciting, exotic, and builds to a satisfying climax. At its worst, it's just a bloodless rehash. Regrettably, the latter is far more common.

Perhaps the abundance of cliched romances drove Martin to strive for something different. However, one can't simply choose to be different any more than one can choose to be creative. Moorcock's original concept for Elric was to be the anti-Conan, but at some point, he had to push his boundaries and move beyond difference for the sake of difference - and he did.

Similarly, Martin rejects the allegorical romance of epic fantasy, essentially ripping out the heart of the genre: the wonder, the ideals, the heroism, and with them, the moral purpose. Fine, so he removed the rollicking fun and the social message - but what did he replace them with?

Like the post-Moore comics of the nineties, fantasy has already witnessed a backlash against the upright, moral hero - and then a backlash against the grim antihero who succeeded him. If all Martin wanted was grim and gritty antiheroes in an amoral world, he didn't have to reject the staples of fantasy; he could have gone to its roots: Howard, Leiber, and Anderson.

Like many authors aiming for realism, he forgets that 'truth is stranger than fiction'. The real world is filled with unbelievable events, coincidences, and odd characters. When authors remove these elements in an attempt to make their world seem real, they make their fiction duller than reality. After all, unexpected details are the essence of verisimilitude. When Chekhov and Peake eschewed the easy thrill of romance, they replaced it with the odd and absurd - moments strange enough to feel true. In comparison, Martin's world is dull and gray. Instead of innovating new, radical elements, he merely removes familiar staples - and any style defined by lack is going to end up feeling thin.

Yet, despite attempting to inject the book with history and realism, he does not reject the melodramatic characterization of his fantasy forefathers, as evidenced by his brooding bastard antihero protagonist (with pet albino wolf). Apparently, to him, 'grim realism' is 'Draco in Leather Pants'. This creates a conflicted tone: a soap opera cast lost in an existentialist film.

There's also a significant amount of sex and misogyny, and 'wall-to-wall rape' - not that books should shy away from sex or any uncomfortable, unpleasant reality of life. The problem arises when people who are not comfortable with their own sexuality start writing about it, which seems to afflict every mainstream fantasy author. Their pen runs away with them, their own hangups seep into the scene, until it's no longer about the characters but just the author cybering about his favorite fetish - and if I cyber with a fat, bearded stranger, I expect to be paid for it.

I know a lot of fans probably get more into it than I do (like night elf hunters in WOW), but reading Goodkind, Jordan, and Martin - it's like seeing a wrinkled Playboy at your uncle's. That's not to say there isn't decent pop fantasy sex out there - it's just written by women.

Though I didn't save any choice examples, I did come across this quote from a later book:

\\n  \\"... she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest...\\"\\n

Imagine the process: Martin sits, hands hovering over the keys, trying to get inside his character's head:

\\"Okay, I'm a woman. How do I see and feel the world differently? My cultural role is defined by childbirth. I can be bought and sold in marriage by my own - Oh, hey! I've got tits! Man, look at those things go. *whooshing mammary sound effects* Okay, time to write.\\"

Where are the descriptions of variously-sized dongs swinging within the confines of absurdly-detailed clothing? There are a set of manboobs (which perhaps Martin has some personal experience with) but not until book five. Even then, it's not the dude being hyperaware of his own - they're just there to gross out a dwarf. Not really a balanced depiction.

If you're familiar with the show (and its parodies on South Park and SNL), this lack of dongs may surprise you. But as Martin himself explained, when asked why there's no gay sex in his books, despite having gay characters, 'they’re not the viewpoint characters' - as if somehow, the viewpoints he chooses to depict are beyond his control. Apparently, he plots as well as your average NaNoWriMo author: sorry none of my characters chose to be gay, nothing I can do about it.

And balance really is the issue here - if you only depict the dark, gritty stuff that you're into, that's not realism, it's just a fetish. If you depict the grimness of war by having every female character threatened with rape, but the same thing never happens to a male character, despite the fact that more men get raped in the military than women, then your 'gritty realism card' definitely gets revoked.

The books are infamous for the sudden, pointless deaths, which some suggest is another sign of realism - but, of course, nothing is pointless in fiction, because everything that appears on the page is only there because the author put it there. Sure, in real life, people suddenly die before finishing their life's work (fantasy authors do it all the time), but there's a reason we don't tend to tell stories of people who die unexpectedly in the middle of things: they are boring and pointless. They build up for a while and then eventually lead nowhere.

Novelists often write in isolation, so it's easy to forget the rule that playwrights adhere to: your story is always a fiction. Any time you treat it as if it were real, you are working against yourself. The writing that feels the most natural is never effortless; it is carefully and painstakingly constructed to seem that way.

A staple of Creative Writing 101 is to 'listen to how people really talk', which is terrible advice. A transcript of any conversation will be so full of repetition, half-thoughts, and non-specific words ('stuff', 'thing') as to be incomprehensible - especially without the cues of tone and body language. Written communication has its own rules, so making dialogue feel like speech is a trick writers play. It's the same with sudden character deaths: treat them like a history, and your plot will become choppy and hard to follow.

Not that the deaths are truly unpredictable. Like in an action film, they are a plot convenience: kill off a villain, and you don't have to wrap up his arc. You don't have to defeat him psychologically - the finality of his death is the great equalizer. You skip the hard work of demonstrating that the hero was morally right because he's the only option left.

Likewise, in Martin's book, death ties up loose threads - namely, plot threads. Often, this is the only ending we get to his plot arcs, which makes them rather predictable: any time a character is about to build up enough influence to make things better or more stable, he will die. Any character who poses a threat to the continuing chaos that drives the action will first be built up and then killed off.

I found this interview to be a particularly telling example of how Martin thinks of character deaths:

\\n  \\"I killed Ned because everybody thinks he’s the hero... sure, he’s going to get into trouble, but then he’ll somehow get out of it. The next predictable thing [someone] is going to rise up and avenge his [death]... So immediately [killing Robb] became the next thing I had to do.\\n

He's not talking about the characters' motivations, or the ideas they represent, or their role in the story - he isn't laying out a well-structured plot, he's just killing them off for pure shock value.

Yet the only reason we think these characters are important in the first place is because Martin treats them as central heroes, spending time and energy building them. Then it all ends up being a red herring, a cheap twist, the equivalent of a horror movie jump scare. It's like mystery novels in the 70's, after all the good plots had been done, so authors added ghosts or secret twins in the last chapter - it's only surprising because the author has obliterated the story structure.

All plots are composed of arcs that grow and change, building tension and purpose. Normally, when an arc ends, the author must use all his skill to deal with themes and answer questions, providing a satisfying conclusion to a promising idea that his readers watched grow. Or just kill off a character central to the conflict and bury the plot arc with him. Then you don't have to worry about closure, you can just hook your readers by focusing on the mess caused by the previous arc falling apart. Make the reader believe that things might get better, get them to believe in a character, then wave your arms in distraction, point and yell 'look at that terrible thing, over there!', and hope they become so caught up in worrying about the new problem that they forget the old one was never resolved.

Chaining false endings together creates perpetual tension that never requires a solution - like in most soap operas - plus, the author never has to do the hard work of finishing what they started. If an author is lucky, they die before reaching the Final Conclusion the readership is clamoring for, and never have to meet the collective expectation that long years of deferral have built up. It's easy to idolize Kurt Cobain because you never had to see him bald and old and crazy like David Lee Roth.

Unlucky authors live to write the Final Book, breaking the spell of unending tension that kept their readers enthralled. Since the plot isn't resolving into a tight, intertwined conclusion (in fact, it's probably spiraling out of control, with ever more characters and scenes), the author must wrap things up conveniently and suddenly, leaving fans confused and upset. Having thrown out the grand romance of fantasy, Martin cannot even end on the dazzling trick of the vaguely-spiritual transgressive Death Event on which the great majority of fantasy books rely for a handy tacked-on climax (actually, he'll probably do it anyways, with dragons - the longer the series goes on, the more it starts to resemble the cliche monomyth that Martin was praised for eschewing in the first place).

The drawback is that even if a conclusion gets stuck on at the end, the story fundamentally leads nowhere - it winds back and forth without resolving psychological or tonal arcs. But then, doesn't that sound more like real life? Martin tore out the moralistic heart and magic of fantasy, and in doing so, rejected the notion of grandly realized conclusions. Perhaps we shouldn't compare him to works of romance but to histories.

He asks us to believe in his intrigue, his grimness, and his amoral world of war, power, and death - not the false Europe of Arthur, Robin Hood, and Orlando, but the real Europe of plagues, political struggles, religious wars, witch hunts, and roving companies of soldiery forever ravaging the countryside. Unfortunately, he doesn't compare very well to them either. His intrigue is not as interesting as Cicero's, Machiavelli's, Enguerrand de Coucy's - or even Sallust's, who was practically writing fiction anyways. Some might suggest it unfair to compare a piece of fiction to a true history, but these are the same histories that lent Howard, Leiber, and Moorcock their touches of verisimilitude. Martin might have taken a lesson from them and drawn inspiration from further afield: even Tolkien had his Eddas. Despite being fictionalized and dramatized, Martin's take on The War of the Roses is far duller than the original.

More than anything, this book felt like a serial melodrama: the hardships of an ensemble cast who we are meant to watch over and sympathize with, being drawn in by emotional appeals (the hope that things will 'get better' in this dark place, 'tragic' deaths), even if these appeals conflict with the supposed realism, and in the end, there is no grander story to unify the whole. This 'grittiness' is just Martin replacing the standard fantasy theme of 'glory' with one of 'hardship', and despite flipping this switch, it's still just an emotional appeal. 'Heroes always win' is just as blandly predictable as 'heroes always lose'.

It's been suggested that I didn't read enough of Martin to judge him, but if the first four hundred pages aren't good, I don't expect the next thousand will be different. If you combine the three Del Rey collections of Conan The Barbarian stories, you get 1,263 pages (including introductions, end notes, and variant scripts). If you take Martin's first two books in this series, you get 1,504 pages. Already, less than a third of the way into the series, he's written more than Howard's entire Conan output, and all I can do is ask myself: why does he need that extra length?

A few authors use it to their advantage, but for most, it's just sprawling, undifferentiated bloat. Melodrama can be a great way to mint money, as evidenced by the endless 'variations on a theme' of soap operas, pro wrestling, and superhero comics. People get into it, but it's neither revolutionary nor realistic. You also hear the same things from the fans: that it's all carefully planned, all interconnected, all going somewhere. Apparently, they didn't learn their lesson from the anticlimactic fizzling out of Twin Peaks, X-Files, Lost, and Battlestar. Then again, you wouldn't keep watching if you didn't think it was going somewhere.

Some say 'at least he isn't as bad as all the drivel that gets published in genre fantasy', but saying he's better than dreck is really not very high praise. Others have intimated that I must not like fantasy at all, pointing to my low-star reviews of Martin, Wolfe, Jordan, and Goodkind, but it is precisely because I am passionate about fantasy that I am so critical of these authors.

A lover of fine wines winces the more at a corked bottle of vinegar, a ballet enthusiast's love of dance would not leave him breathless at a high school competition - and likewise, having learned to appreciate epics, histories, knightly ballads, fairy tales, and their modern offspring in fantasy, I find Martin woefully lacking. There's plenty of grim fantasy and intrigue out there, from its roots to the dozens of fantasy authors, both old and modern, whom I list in the link at the end of this review.

There seems to be a sense that Martin's work is somehow revolutionary, that it represents a 'new direction' for fantasy, but all I see is a reversion. Sure, he's different than Jordan, Goodkind, and their ilk, who simply took the pseudo-medieval high-magic world from Tolkien and the blood-and-guts heroism from Howard. Martin, on the other hand, has more closely followed Tolkien's lead than any other modern high fantasy author - and I don't just mean in terms of racism.

Tolkien wanted to make his story real - not'realistic', using the dramatic techniques of literature - but actually real, by trying to create all the detail of a pretend world behind the story. Over the span of the first twenty years, he released The Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings, and other works, while in the twenty years after that, he became so obsessed with worldbuilding for its own sake that instead of writing stories, he filled his shed with a bunch of notes (which his son has been trying to make a complete book from ever since).

It's the same thing Martin's trying to do: cover a bland story with a litany of details that don't contribute meaningfully to his characters, plot, or tone. So, if Martin is good because he is different, then it stands to reason that he's not very good, because he's not that different. He may seem different if all someone has read is Tolkien and the authors who ape his style, but that's just one small corner of a very expansive genre. Anyone who thinks Tolkien is the 'father of fantasy' doesn't

Actual Rating: 4.5 Stars

It has taken me approximately 6 months, but I have truly relished this book! I was compelled to read it on my Kindle because, in my opinion, Roy Dotrice is a dreadful narrator. I don't believe I could have fully immersed myself in this story in audio format. However, considering I am an extremely slow physical reader, perhaps by the time I complete all 5 books, we will have a release date for Winds of Winter!?

Hey, a girl can dream (of spring)... lol

\\n  Pre-Read Thoughts:\\n

Here's the situation. I watched and adored the show for 7 seasons, but I absolutely loathed the final season with all my heart and soul. I've always stated that I wouldn't read these books until Martin demonstrated some tangible progress towards releasing the next installment. However, the truth is that I just despise the bitter taste left in my mouth by the final season of the show. I still desire to be present in this world and with these characters. So, I have revoked my previous proclamation to wait on these books.

I'm going in fully cognizant that I may never have a better conclusion for these characters than the one provided by the show. Nevertheless, I think the time spent with the characters and in the world will be worthwhile. I wish Martin the best in his attempt to finish telling this expansive story. And if he never manages to get there, at least I'll have the books he's already written to enjoy.

In general, I'm not a fan of fantasy or long books. However, after watching the first episode of the TV series, I made up my mind to give A Game of Thrones a try. I thought perhaps I'd just read the books instead of watching the shows.

Unfortunately, the sheer number of characters was extremely confusing. It was so hard to establish a connection with any of them that I ultimately gave up and watched the first season. After it completely blew me away, I went back to the book.

With the characters and places still fresh in my mind and easy to visualize, the book became much easier to follow and a breeze to read. I was truly in awe of the additional depth that the book offered. The paragraph-long digressions that George R R Martin goes on are not only more compelling but also more lively than those in a lot of other fantasy books.

Still, the show seemed to be much more enjoyable for me. What I loved about the show, namely the characters, didn't have the same magic on the page as they did on the screen. What appeared to be an epic character-driven story on TV didn't quite have the same impact as a book. I found myself more intrigued by the random backstories and the plot rather than the characters that initially sucked me into this grim world of GRRM.

Nevertheless, even though I don't really have a penchant for fantasy or long books, I did enjoy this one a great deal.