A Game of Thrones

The Good: People rave about this series. I just didn't get the appeal. From what I had heard, it seemed like every other generic fantasy epic saga. But I sort of wanted to finally check out the TV series (5 seasons behind everyone else) and I have a need to read the books before seeing the movies and shows based on them. So I went into A Game of Thrones expecting to be bored quickly and often. I was absolutely shocked at how quickly I got sucked into the story. I read this book for 3 days straight, did not put it down. Read it walking from one room to another. Read it and woke up with it on my face after my 3 hours of sleep, only to continue reading it immediately. I had to know what was going to happen next. I came to care about the show more characters in a painful way. Painful, because even those who don't read the series and watch the show know of GRRM's need to kill everyone all the damned time. The book was long. It was very detailed. It is also one of the very few books that carries its length well. This wasn't a case of a lazy editor - oh no, GRRM just packs a ton of wonderful into every single page.

The Bad: Not a thing. show less

The book that opened the door.

This was the first fantasy book I ever read. Not the first fantasy book that year or as an adult. The first. I grew up on literary fiction and the occasional thriller. Dragons, castles, and direwolves belonged to other people; readers I assumed were more patient or more childish than me.

Then a high school friend would not stop talking about this TV show. Game of Thrones, he called it. "You have to watch it," he said. "People die. Everyone dies. It's amazing." I was curious, but I had a rule: I read the book before watching the adaptation. So I picked up A Game of Thrones instead of turning on the screen.

That decision changed everything.

The prologue: three men of the Night's Watch riding through a forest, a show more dead boy with blue eyes, a cold that should not exist, hooked me by the throat. I did not look up again until I had finished all five published books. And then I sat in silence, furious that the sixth was not waiting for me. (My friend, meanwhile, had watched the first season and kept asking, "Are you caught up yet?" I was two books ahead and never looked back.)

What it is:

The continent of Westeros. Summer has lasted a decade, but whispers of winter creep from the north. King Robert Baratheon, who won the throne through rebellion, travels to Winterfell to ask his old friend Eddard "Ned" Stark to become his Hand (chief advisor). Ned accepts, leaving his frozen home for the viper pit of King's Landing. Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea, the exiled princess Daenerys Targaryen is sold into marriage to a Dothraki warlord and begins to discover that fire does not forget. And at the edge of the world, a wall of ice guards against... something.

Why it worked for me as a fantasy beginner (and a book-before-show purist):

1. The magic is barely there. Early on, you could almost mistake this for historical fiction. The Wall is just ice. The dragons are bones. The zombies (wights) appear in the prologue and then vanish for hundreds of pages. Martin eases you in. By the time the supernatural becomes undeniable, you are already too invested to question it.

2. The characters feel real. Ned Stark makes stupid decisions because he believes in honor. Tyrion is a dwarf who uses wit as armor. Arya is a nine-year-old girl who witnesses her father's execution and begins a kill list. No one has plot armor. The first time a "main character" died, I reread the page four times. I had never experienced that in a book before. It was terrifying and addictive.

3. The politics are the plot. I do not care about magic systems or sword fights. I care about people making choices under pressure. Martin gives you that in spades. The small council meetings, the whispered betrayals, the marriage alliances that curdle into war; I ate it all up. This was not the fantasy I had dismissed. It was The Sopranos with swords.

Reading the book before watching the show (a small victory):

I am glad I read A Game of Thrones first. The first season of the show is remarkably faithful, but the book gives you interiority: Ned's doubts, Tyrion's self-loathing, Sansa's desperate illusions, Daenerys's dawning strength. You understand why people make the choices they do. And when the show eventually diverged (and later collapsed), I had the books to return to. My friend watched the final season and despaired. I read A Dance with Dragons again and sighed. We are not the same.

The rest of the series (a quick note for the curious):

I did not stop at A Game of Thrones. I read A Clash of Kings (more war, more prophecies, more heartbreak). I read A Storm of Swords, which contains the two most devastating sequences I have ever encountered in fiction. I read A Feast for Crows, which disappointed me at first because my favorite characters were missing and then I reread it and realized it was the most thematically rich of the five. I read A Dance with Dragons, which ends on a dozen cliffhangers and a feeling of vast, terrible waiting.

And now I wait with everyone else. I have been waiting for years. I will likely wait for years more. And I will do it gladly, because this series taught me that fantasy is not a genre of escape. It is a genre of confrontation—with power, with violence, with the choices we make when the rules fall away.

Where the first book stumbles (honest, even as a fan):

1. The first 200 pages are a feast. Literally. The visit to Winterfell, the journey south, the tournament; it is slow. If I had not been told to push through (by my friend, who kept promising "it gets crazy"), I might have quit. Do not quit.

2. The ages are absurd. Daenerys is thirteen when she is sold and pregnant. Robb and Jon are fifteen. This is historically accurate for medieval settings, but it is jarring for modern readers. Martin has said he wishes he had aged them up.

3. The prose is not beautiful. Martin writes clearly, not lyrically. If you love Rothfuss or Kay for their sentences, you will find Martin workmanlike. He is a plotter and a worldbuilder, not a stylist.

Who should read this (especially if you are new to fantasy like I was):

Anyone who has dismissed fantasy as "too silly" or "too childish".
Readers who love political drama, family sagas, and moral ambiguity.
People who are not afraid of long books and longer waits.

Who should skip it:

If you need a finished series (you have been warned).
If graphic violence, sexual assault, or child death are dealbreakers.
If you hate multiple POVs and complex family trees.

Final verdict:

A Game of Thrones opened a door for me. Behind it was not a fairy tale. It was a world of gray morality, shocking consequences, and characters who felt like people I had known for years. I have since read hundreds of fantasy books: Sanderson, Rothfuss, Kay, Hobb, Abercrombie. But the first one remains special. Not because it is flawless. Because it showed me what I had been missing.

Five stars. For the boy with the sword, the girl with the dragons, and the dwarf who just wants to live. And for my high school friend, who wanted me to watch a show and accidentally launched me into a lifetime of reading fantasy instead.

Winter came. I read it first. Then I watched. And I am still here, waiting for spring.

P.S. If you have only watched the show, the books are still worth your time. The show diverges after season one, then utterly collapses. The books are richer, stranger, and (so far) more coherent. Start from page one. The prologue alone is worth it. show less

The first novel in the Song of Ice and Fire series, this long book by George R. R. Martin, appears to have a simple recipe - take a place and period already regularly linked with fantasy, namely medieval England, loosely transpose the real political conflicts into fantasy ones, and use the breath of a few dragons to simmer. The apparent formulaic nature of this exercise is enhanced by occasional awkward, cliche-ridden stylistic features, with phrases such as "cold as ice" and "cut like a knife". So far so unenthralling. But there are a few key features that elevate this novel way above the average, and make the incredible hype somewhat justifiable.

First, the characterisation, while not exactly literary, is deep, rich, with few show more characters obviously good or bad, and all set closely in context, so that even someone who is utterly abhorrent clearly has had an utterly abhorrent and unfair upbringing. The psychological range of people is breathtaking, as are the plots that support them. You get a strong sense that Martin is intent on capturing the vast breadth of humanity - and he does it fantastically well, with almost every topic - including some rather taboo in nature - captured at one point or another. That makes it a rather adult fantasy novel, which is meant as a huge compliment - and reading this you are keenly reminded that books like Lord of the Rings are really designed for children.

Then there is the storyline, which flits between three story arcs by the device of each chapter being title by its central character. One story surrounds the political maneuverings between various great houses of the kingdom, with much realistic plotting, involving the lazy hedonism or insanity of kings, legitimacy of heirs, debt issues, and so on. The second involves an exiled royal family, semi-destitute, but desperate to regain the throne, even allying themselves with semi-savages in order to achieve this aim. The third is the most ominous, but for this novel at least, the most minor story - a huge wall separates the main kingdom from strange dangers of the cold north, the most frightening of these are the hints of the white walkers, who have come back from the dead and are kind of super-charged zombies. There are so many cliffhangers and plot twists that the novel, despite its length and complexity, is very gripping.

Another adult component of the novel, and another huge compliment is that whereas other writers almost appear to be indulging in fantasy-inflation, with dragons, magic and so on saturating the pages, here many pages go by and you don't really feel this is anything but an intriguing historical novel. That means that when fantasy elements do rarely occur, they have far more power to shock you, and force you to turn the page. And it also means that the novel ends with an incredibly powerful scene, one that compels you to grab hold of the next in the series as soon as you can.

By the end, these strengths made me extremely forgiving of the clunky style, and privileged to have lived through such a mature feat of creativity. show less

I still can't believe that it's finished. With other thick books I would be thinking, "When will this end?" with this one (just like HP), I was thinking "Please don't end." It was that good! I stumbled upon this book when my aunt sent us a balikbayan box. Among the nice stuff was the second book of this series "A Clash of Kings". It was not meant for me but rather it was meant to be a filler, so there will be no empty space inside the box. I took it as a sign and bought the first book and it did not disappoint me. George R.R. Martin is the god of fantasy (J.K. Rowling is the goddess). This is a book you can't put down. This is a book that would be too personal. This book is close to my heart along with the characters. But if you want a show more happy ending, this book is not for you. It is not a happy book, its full of coldness, loneliness, misery, death, intrigues, incest, treachery and war but it will teach you things about family, duty, honor, love and bravery. This one would definitely be my favorite of the year! show less

After falling in love the the television series only a couple of months ago, I was so excited to pick up the book. I had no idea that I would fall in love with Martin's words just as much as I love the show.

I'm glad I started with the show first (please don't hurt me) since I was able to remember exactly what was happening to which character when I went through periods of not being able to pick up the book. Plus, the world Martin creates in the books is so much different than the show. His writing is descriptive yet allows the reader to invent the world in their own mind instead of being told exactly what it is. I loved getting inside the heads of Ned, Jon, Arya, and everyone else. It's almost as if reading the book after watching the show more series has enhanced it for me.

There are so many secrets hidden inside the novel since Martin is able to tease so much more than the show. I fell in love again with the Starks, loathed the Lannisters and now want to go rewatch the first season and find all the things I missed.

What a wonderful story and world Martin has gifted to use. Also, his characters feel so real. I am almost sad that I had to end the first part of this adventure with these characters and can't wait to return to this world. I highly recommend any fan of the show to read the books, they may be long but they are more than worth it. show less

I've never felt such visceral disappointment toward a book in my two decades of reading.

Let me be clear: I had high expectations for ASOIF as a fan of the genre and its TV adaptation, and this certainly added to my heartbreak. The storytelling and writing were as good as I expected them to be, despite my incredulity at the length of the book—a product of Martin's overzealous detailing of his world, no doubt. If I were judging the book on its literary merits alone, I would gladly give it 4, if not 4.5 stars. Sadly, I am not. Sadly, I had to slog through what can only be described as some of the most enraging writing of women I have ever encountered.

TLDR: If Martin spent half as much time working on the next book in the series as he show more does describing the underage female body in AGOT, I daresay the series would have been wrapped up years ago.

I am completely baffled (and slightly concerned) as to the open popularity of the book now that I have read it. It is a book so deeply steeped in the male gaze that it leans dangerously toward misogyny. I found myself constantly tripping over grotesque, self-gratifying erotic prose, in what I can only assume was an exploration of GRRM's fetishes.

Almost all of the female characters in the book fall under at least one of the following labels: a mother, a helpless child, a sex worker, a woman who wants to be a man, a murderer. Meanwhile, the male cast is allowed to be colorful and clothed, allowed to play into stereotypes and turn them on their heads. Not all work needs to be socially transcendent, but I would at least expect something so widely-loved to not be so egregiously off-kilter.

The "Danaerys" chapters are by far the worst of the lot. Her story is completely poisoned by repeated grisly descriptions of sex between a 13-year-old child bride and her 30-year-old husband, in a pattern of erotic writing that is exclusive to her chapters. Here's a wild idea: if you want your characters to behave like adults, don't write them as children. And another: "historical accuracy" cannot be used to defend romanticizing child marriage and rape when your world is fictitious.

It's a sad state of affairs, but the book completely spoiled itself for me and I don't think I have the stomach to continue with the series. Whatever good it held, especially in the "Jon" chapters, was so terribly eclipsed by the nauseating over-sexualization of preteen girls that I'm almost at a loss for words. show less

Martin is so abusive to his main characters that we just gotta love him. There has been so many times that I've said to myself, "No way, someone's going to save (spoiler!) any minute now. there's no way the author will let him......Oh god, the author DID". Expect a lot of switching roles. Characters you think are allies are enemies and ones you think are enemies are actually the worst kind of enemies. Your eyes will be glued to the page, watching all the action unfold. "Game of Thrones" is a bit morbid and might make you feel miserable when you finish it but the book has a certain charm that will insure you'll be coming back for more soon enough.