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| Source: Game of Thrones Wiki |
So you’ve all seen it. No? What do you mean, no? Ah, I see. Because it’s on an
obscure, subscription-only Sky channel. Well that’s fair, but you could always
watch it courtesy of HBO Go (I feel there needs to be an exclamation mark on
the end there, but never mind), the network’s free online service. What? That’s
only available if you live in America?
Curses! Well then, looks like your only option for getting a fix of first-rate
fantasy serial Game of Thrones is to
hold out for the DVD release. Or, you could just take the plunge and read the
books. Daunted? You should be. The first instalment of George R. R. Martin’s epic
‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ weighs in at over 800 pages with four, equally large,
sequels and a further two more in the pipeline. So is it worth the commitment?
By all means.
Fantasy fiction suffers from an overload of Tolkien-wannabes
flogging self-indulgent, sword n’ sorcery, Euro-centric, medievalist trollop.
You’d think by my enthusiasm for A Game of
Thrones that I’m about to say how originally original and refreshingly
fresh Martin’s take on the genre is, but I’m not. No. A Game of Thrones ticks all of those boxes: it is unashamedly high fantasy, it is
ridiculously epic, there are dragons,
there is magic, there are a lot of swords. However, it’s about
as far from fantasy-by-numbers that you can get.
First of all, let me just say something regarding the book’s
age. It was first published in 1996 but (and having only been a recent convert
myself) it speaks like it was written precisely for today’s market. The ideas
it demonstrates through character, narrative, uses of mythology and intricate
plotting feel impressively current even fifteen years on; this is mature fantasy
writing that happily sits within the more recent trend for character-driven
genre-fiction (sci-fi remake Battlestar
Galactica springs to mind).
The narrative itself follows no less than eight protagonists.
Each chapter is named after one of these eight, ranging from the bastard son of
Lord Eddard Stark to the exiled princess of usurped House Targaryen, the duration
of which is spent viewing the unfolding events from the chosen character’s
perspective. This can involve a lot of lurching about as a simple chapter break
can take us halfway round the world and weeks ahead in time. There can be a
certain amount of feet-finding as the reader dusts themselves off, but Martin
has a good estimation of his audience’s ability, never making it too hard for
them to work out what’s occurred between chapters, even if certain details are missing,
or are only ascertained through paying close attention to the dialogue. In short, he makes us work for our
story; knowledge is our privilege, and we feel almost a part of the intrigue as
we spy from our perch above the page, piecing together what we know and trying
to second-guess a character’s next action.
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| Source: 6aming.com |
More often than not we are wrong footed as events take an
unexpected turn, our judgements prove wildly incorrect, or someone dies. It
should be made quite clear that A Lot of People Die. The fact that there is no
singular protagonist means that absolutely no-one is safe. This strings a wonderful
tension through the narrative that really makes the reader fear for their
favourites. And I mean really fear.
As odd as it sounds, you will probably experience genuine outbursts of emotion
as you read this series: you will hate, grieve and rejoice with the type of
authenticity rarely reserved for fiction. Characters that fit the typical heroic
profile end up victims of their own honour, whilst assumed villains you are
sure will prove the most antagonistic spend most of the narrative languishing
in a dungeon. Instead, the unassuming, the untried, and the pragmatic take
their places, and it is from these still-developing characters that we see the
most intriguing conflicts of interest arise: alliances are formed and enmities
are born on the backs of whims and rash decisions. The consequences are often severe
and far-reaching.
This is symptomatic of a brutal honesty that runs through A Game of Thrones. Actions have clear consequences:
characters either learn from them or suffer by them. There is a delightful moral
ambiguity that all characters subscribe to, and while you may root for certain
factions over others, that old tale of Good versus Evil is notably absent. This
story is one printed in greys: tainted history, lust for power and stubborn honour
are the roots of conflict here. Most characters are even-handedly drawn, and
even those you will love to hate have reasons for their maleficence. War is
painted in its twin colours of political instrument and moral depravity. For
each scene of lords discussing the justifications for their warring, there is
one detailing its gruesome flipside of rape, violence and devastation – more
often than not it is the common people we see bearing its brunt. This is grim
stuff, and the sense of foreboding is repeatedly enforced by the motto of the
Stark family: ‘winter is coming’. In Martin’s world, where seasons can last
years, it is no idle warning.
One glance at the convoluted family trees detailed in the
book’s appendices will tell you Martin has lavished love and attention to fine-tuning
the minutiae of his fantasy world. But don’t let the long list of Lord this and
Ser that put you off. The only time you will really need to refer to these
appendices will be because you have a genuine interest in learning more about
the lordly houses. Martin cites the Hundred Years War and the Wars of the Roses
amongst his influences, and the effect is to make his fantasy world all the
more believable, its family feuds deeper ingrained and its politics more
meaningful. Often an indulgence of fantasy writers, Martin keeps the magic of
his world on a firm leash, drip-feeding its secrets so that we are kept hungry,
never bloated. The amount of detail is never enough that it proves suffocating,
and a pleasing hierarchy emerges where it is clear that characters and plot are
put first ahead of background and lore.
All this makes for a gripping fiction, and whether you enjoy
fantasy or not, the standard of the writing, the storyline and the sumptuously
vast world that is envisioned should be reason enough to invest some quality hours
in escapism. True, you could save yourself the time and wait for the DVD
release instead (there’s something strangely compelling about Sean Bean in and
of himself), but it’s not quite as rewarding as having your imagination shade
in the faces and lands of Westeros in your own colours. And one final word:
should you try it, you’ll find it hugely addictive.
An edition of this article first appeared at 4Qmagazine.co.uk on 6th Feb 2012
