A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

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Let's talk about George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones.

The Short of It

Plot: In the game of thrones, you win or you die. You all know what this is.

Page Count: 835

Award: 1997 Locus Fantasy

Worth a read: Yes*
Primary Driver: (Plot, World, or Character)
Bechdel Test: Pass
Technobabble: N/A.
Review: Superb use of perspective swaps, compelling characters, tight dialogue... this book is a masterpiece. An excellent start to a well-realized world. For a book heavy enough that the TSA could call it a weapon the pacing is remarkably swift. So many twist and turns, so much to take in, so many paths to trace and connections to make. This is peak medieval fantasy.

The Medium of It

Spoiler Free

I had forgotten just how good this book is. I read through the whole series at the beginning of GoT fever - 2011. And I read it at the same time as I reread Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle. While I will always have a soft spot for Eragon, I remember thinking, when I started A Game of Thrones, "Now this is how you do fantasy."

All of that got a bit lost over the years. In three months, A Dance with Dragons, the last book published in the Song of Ice and Fire saga, will be able to have a bar mitzvah. The final season of the show gained such ire that it suddenly went from being a massive cultural phenomenon to anathema. Thus the asterisk on the "Yes" above for giving this a read - it is likely that this saga never ends, or ends in disappointment. 

That said, this book rocks. Chapters come from the perspective of a handful of characters, and there is true artistry in the way in which Martin uses dramatic irony to ratchet up tension. We as readers watch plots formed by some, already knowing precisely how it will fall apart, having just joined others in a counter-plot. There are times when you want to yell into the book, "Listen to her!" or "That's not going to work!" and oddly, these complaints fall on deaf ears. These character jumps also do wonders for giving everyone a unique identity. It's fascinating to see how differently some characters view and interact with the same people: to one a reluctant ally, to another a potential traitor, to a third an obstacle to be removed. And yet each and every character is driven by clear internal motivation. No one is all good, almost no one is pure villainy. Innocence can sometimes be a liability and violence a mercy. It's a murky world but every character embraces it.

The world itself is artfully outlined. A Game of Thrones spends most of its world-building on establishing which houses matter, of which there are many. But sprinkled throughout we are given both recent and ancient history, and hints of what the greater world holds. Again, this is a master class in creating a gripping world.

The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

The Other halted. Will saw its eyes; blue, deeper and bluer than any human eyes, a blue that burned like ice. They fixed on the longsword trembling on high, watched the moonlight running cold along the metal. For a heartbeat he dared to hope.

They emerged silently from the shadows, twins to the first. Three of them … four … five … Ser Waymar may have felt the cold that came with them, but he never saw them, never heard them. Will had to call out. It was his duty. And his death, if he did. He shivered, and hugged the tree, and kept the silence.

 As prologues go, this one is killer. Before we reach page ten, we've seen action, inhuman monsters, bravery, cowardice. The atmosphere is one of general forboding and inevitability: nothing can stand up to these creatures. And then we promptly forget about them. A Game of Thrones is about the political machinations of powerful families, and we get lost in cheering on our favorites, mourning their losses, smirking at witty comebacks. But somewhere, in the back of your mind as you read, you can't help but remember - it's all so petty. They're all wrapped up in the wrong problem - they want the throne, but what does the throne matter when the Others are out there and winter is coming? 

The same artistry is used for dialogue. Many of Tyrion's speeches, brought to the screen by Peter Dinklage, made their rounds on ye ol' internet. And deservedly so - both speeches and acting at excellent. It's true here as well. Well, not the acting, I can't speak to that. It's a book!

If these were a story that ended, it would be a swift and brutal recommendation. But given the state of the series as a whole... this book is fantastic, but who knows if there will ever be a conclusion.

The Long of It
Spoilers ahead!

I hope there are still some people out there who don't know how this all goes, who don't know who dies, where the betrayals come, or who has a better story. To that end, this will only spoil the first book.

Martin is famous for disposing of his characters, no matter how important they may be. That is in full display here. Aided by the substantial length of this book, Martin has the opportunity to cultivate readers' connections with a wide swathe of characters. Some we love, some we hate, but all of them make a mark.

At first Sansa did not notice the third stranger. He did not kneel with the others. He stood to one side, beside their horses, a gaunt grim man who watched the proceedings in silence. His face was pockmarked and beardless, with deepset eyes and hollow cheeks. Though he was not an old man, only a few wisps of hair remained to him, sprouting above his ears, but those he had grown long as a woman’s. His armor was iron-grey chainmail over layers of boiled leather, plain and unadorned, and it spoke of age and hard use. Above his right shoulder the stained leather hilt of the blade strapped to his back was visible; a two-handed greatsword, too long to be worn at his side.

Illyn Payne is a bit player - yet every mention of him is tinged with fear. He is immediately memorable. Beyond simply creating compelling characters, Martin plays with perspective switches and structure to further surprise readers. The vast majority of perspective characters begin as important but adjacent to true power. Dany is there to show us the development of her brother, Viserys. Jon, Arya, Sansa, Bran, and Catelyn are often at the edges: we are never given a full picture, but always given enough angles to piece it together. Along the same vein, Martin does a remarkable job of maintaining character perspective in scenes; that is, there are never moments of suprise omnipotence. All the information that we have comes through the filter of the characters themselves. There are a few instances of convenient eavesdropping, but that is a relatively minor sin in a book such as this.

As noted above, the only real issue here emerges when characters do stupid things for no reason. Most notably: a specific scene where Arya tells her father what she has overheard, and he laughs it off as childish rambling. Sansa ignoring the issues with the Lannisters falls into a similar category: we're supposed to give it all a pass as she's young and enamored, but it still feels overdone.

I have mixed feelings on the ages of all of the younger characters here. On the one hand, having them so young explains how they're so easy for adults to ignore. On the other, aging them up a few years would have the same impact and make some development more credible. Arya is supposed to be nine years old! Nine! Third grade! When I was nine I couldn't beat Oregon Trail, let alone stab someone. I think that the few years added to each character in the show is an improvement in this regard.

After my first read, I remember really disliking a few characters. In hindsight, this is to allow them to have full character arcs. Sansa in particular is just not a fun character to follow in this book. But it's also hard to complain when the point is to give her room to grow. It's the same as the issues with Ahsoka at the start of Clone Wars - people hated her for her immaturity and irresponsibility. Shocker: her arc is about maturing and taking on responsibility.

A different note: this is one of the most lived-in worlds I've seen in a book. You truly believe that we're beging dropped into a place with its own history, its own politics, its own practices. History and culture are woven in cleverly: Robert reminiscing with Ned shows the reader flashes of the rebellion; Syrio Forel introduced as an oddity gives a reason to talk about Water Dancers; discussions of debt point to the Iron Bank and other players elsewhere. It's all organic and believable.

Look, there's no way that at this point A Game of Thrones is not on your radar. If you haven't read it because the show ended poorly, or because you've already seen the show, it's still worth it. If you're committed to only reading series that end, however, that's probably a fair reason to keep on avoiding it. I can only say that it was a true joy to get back into the world and feel, for a few hundred pages, swept up in the hype.

"Drink and stay quiet, your king is talking." - King Bobby B.

And don't forget to read a book!