Fantas-y-tic

Chockronial Salamandus de Rosenstern bestowed upon me, a naïve peasant, George R.R. Martin’s (let’s be cool; let’s call him GRRM) fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. I just finished the first book, A Game of Thrones. Here’s a couple thoughts on why this book rocked not only my world, but my solar system, too:

-GRRM includes a dauntingly large cast of characters in this first book. Furthermore, any author would impress with the number of characters alive. Martin, however, tops himself by referencing countless detailed legends of past heroes and relatives. Based on what I’ve heard of the subsequent books, these character threads—even those seemingly insignificant—continue. In a desirable twist of irony, this lends a sense of verisimilitude to his fantasy world.

-In a similar vein, rarely have I read an author who details clothing and related accoutrements without driving me comatose. I guess the pseudo-Middle Ages context of the story makes these details enticing. Examples include the broach fastening a cape, the rippled pattern of a princess’ dress, the velvet robes of a eunuch, or the bronze mold of a warrior’s helm.

-My just-barely-second favorite part of the book is GRRM’s willingness to treat primary characters, and notably, likeable characters with brutality. A head rolled in this book that I never anticipated losing through the entirety of the series. Some don’t die; they’re simply crippled, mutilated, or banished. It requires an incredible amount of time and imaginative force to develop a prominent character and your readers would start to develop an affinity for them. You sacrifice so much by severing a character's role, but GRRM understands that tragedy is gripping and elevates the fabric of a story. That’s when you know these books aren’t for the faint of heart, but they are for someone who wants an intense experience.

-Probably my favorite element of this book—and I think this might be what attracts his most ardent fans who came many years before me—is the human complexity. In other words, the characters become so nuanced that, unlike the preponderance of fantasy novels (atleast those I’ve read), it’s sometimes difficult to establish a moral hierarchy. GRRM accomplishes this partly through the narrative itself. Each chapter’s content comes from the perspective of a main character. You gather that individual’s thoughts for a short time, but then you’re left to guess until later. While inside someone’s mind, you discover that exterior gallantry need not always equate with fundamental goodness. Characters embody complex motives, some less than noble. Lastly, the perspectives of many of the more intriguing characters remain hidden from the reader. For example, the crafty and calculating members of the King’s counsel are seen only through the eyes of others.