A review of A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

Title: A Game of Thrones

Author: George R.R. Martin

Publisher: Spectra / Bantam Books

Cover art: a touch flashy, but fitting

Length: 807 pages in mass-market paperback

Rating

6 out of 7 (will resonate very strongly in the fantasy genre)

“Such a splendid tale and such a fantistorical! I read my eyes out.”

--Anne McAffrey (as quoted from the paperback edition)

Yeah, that was “fantistorical.” Thanks, Dragonrider Anne. These idiot, mutual back-scratching “reviews” from other authors sharing the genre (and generally the publisher) are almost always an embarrassment. You should never trust them. I doubt Anne even read the book to call it a “splendid tale.” We don’t mind the praise but it’s just not right. “I read my eyes out” is another sort of trite phrase that you will never see on this site. Nor do we intend to invent words like that whimsy "fantistorical." This quote would have you think McAffrey dots her i's with little hearts.

“George RR Martin has unveiled for us an intensely realized, romantic but realistic world…”

--Chicago Sun Times

“Intensely realized” is exactly right. You could take our 6/7 rating, remember “intensely realized,” and take that to the bookstore along with your $6.99 (plus tax) and buy the book. This book’s beauty is in its meticulous and perfect crafting of the setting and it is this setting that imbues it with the realism that the Sun Times is feeling.

The book opens with a rather generic prologue… really the book’s only flaw; only re-readers will be interested in an academic sense, which is to say in the same sense that they will scrupulously read the appendices. Don’t be fooled by the cliché feel of the prologue; the book is magnificent.

We are in a world where the seasons last several years and in it we find a land in the waning months/years of summer--a time that heralds a very long, bitter winter. We begin in the realm of Winterfell, the largest and most remote—being in the cold north—of the “Seven Kingdoms.” The Seven Kingdoms are in a time of relative peace after a recent usurpation of the traditional rulers by King Robert Baratheon who rules in the South and to whom the lord of Winterfel and Warden of the North—Eddard Stark—is a childhood friend, subject, and one-time fellow rebel. The kingdom had been previously ruled by generations of Targaryens; the last of whom—Daenerys and Viserys—are in exile across the sea and plot to return in force.

The house of Stark and Winterfell are ruled by Eddard who is father to no less than six children (one a bastard child adopted into the royal house). These Starks will be the moral center of this work and in the pending sequels. The first chapter (not the prologue mind you) opens flawlessly—the reader as well as the characters feel themselves on the edge of great matters. We find Eddard Stark presiding over the execution of a criminal for desertion. Eddard comments on the dishonor of desertion and advises his son after he himself executes the man,

“The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

These are the words of the man whose presence will resonate throughout the rapidly shifting settings and marvelous array of characters. It is for him that we read and for his children that we hope will carry on this same sense of honor.

That honor is in stark relief (no pun intended) to the rest of the book, which is rife with the dishonorable. It is filled with plainspoken violence and utter carelessness for the lives of men. It speaks with balance upon the pleasures and pageantry of a courtly medieval life that so many in the genre fantasize of against the intricate plotting, disregard for the peasantry, high mortality rate, and shocking violence this world truly engenders. The reader will journey South to politicking the likes of which for complexity, realism, and purpose are unmatched in the entire genre—including Herbert’s Dune. It will take the reader to the far North with its isolation, its single-purpose, and its exile. It will follow Daenerys and the desperate plotting of a disenfranchised noble to return to power. It will unflinchingly reveal the appalling ignorance and lack of education of the peasantry to match against the learned but de-humanizing machinations of the nobles and the reader will not see that one is better than the other. It is a far cry from the ridiculous celebration of the peasant we find so prevalent in fantasy novels.

The great triumph of this book is the setting. So carefully constructed, so filled with fully constructed people, so set against a panoramic history that spans generations (not committing the flaw that Jordan, Goodkind, and so many others commit in not understanding that history is not composed of a single event here and there but a generational series of local events upon which all parties will not agree) that we feel once the setting was complete the book wrote itself as if this universe were mechanical and pre-determined. In fact, a feeling of absolute inevitability pervades the work and creates the tragic note we feel in watching Eddard Stark struggle—often futilely—to bring his sense of honor to the arenas he commands.

If there is one complaint that keeps this book from making our perfect rating of seven, it is the fact that the universe is too perfectly constructed. We feel that the very greatest works exhibit visions or concepts that stretch us beyond ourselves and display a purpose that makes the metaphysical leap from the pages of the book to our own psyches and makes our own experiences more real and compelling. While—we cannot say the word enough—"perfectly" constructed it is so perfect that we find ourselves watching the unfolding of a world as if looking out our own window but with divine sight to behold all; it lacks the purpose to alter our lives that is the final genius of Tolkien, Wolfe, Stephenson, and the few others who attain that rating. We are stunned by the grandeur of this book and the coming volumes will—if they match this one, which we feel, they will—blaze across the publishing worlds and be a credit to the genre.

The Game of Thrones, and most likely A Song of Ice and Fire for which this is the first volume, should survive several generations of readers. It is most like the universe of Dune in its construction and complexity which has already shown durability and influence far beyond its original publication date. While the Dune series flagged in skill over time, we feel that A Song of Ice and Fire will not similarly suffer and will ultimately enjoy even greater renown than Dune.

Any reader that enjoys exploring a fully invented world and/or finds great pleasure in medieval romances and historical works exploring that period will find continuing and unshakable delight in this book. Additionally, anyone who is chilled by predestination and fate will be obsessive about reading this book; it is foreordination in one the most compelling forms we have ever read. It's enjoyed great acclaim among devotees of the fantasy genre but--unlike Jordan, Goodkind, Eddings and Brooks--Martin fully deserves the praise for his perfect craftsmanship of the world he has created. For readers very suspicious of the fantasy genre being able to produce anything of note, this is an excellent introduction for it acknowledges the fact that there is a lot more to be had in books then "Get the sword," "Save the Girl," and "Kill the monster."

The book does not have happy endings in its many subplots. Justice does not often prevail. The weak are not often saved by the just. There is course language—though never seeming out of place. There is violence. This is not a book that should be read to children. It is most definitely R-rated material. Also, if there is any flaw to the writing, it is in that there is little self-reflection or introspection in the characters and also little or no philosophy to the Seven Kingdoms. If this is the reason you read then you would be better served by Gene Wolfe or perhaps Kim Stanley Robinson.