Book Review
A Game of Thrones
Logline – A bunch of families challenge each other to battle
royale it over their corresponding seven kingdoms, none of which seem to possess
soap, toothpaste, nor basic home security measures. Meanwhile, somewhere in
Saudi Arabia, a chick gives birth to dragons.
And then it gets complicated.
I’ve never played dungeons and dragons, but this book seems to be pretty much that game personified, with perhaps a surplus of dudes with
unpronouncable names and oft-vaunted military prowess that is really just
camouflage for filling up a couple of sentences before they’re brutally
murdered.
This story is way too long to recap. So let’s just mentioned
what we’ve learned so far:
Get on your knees right now and thank God you were born in
an age that appreciates soap, toilets, and toothpaste. For reals. It doesn’t
get much more rank than the medieval times, even the fantasy ones, especially
with hot blood spurting on every page and fresh corpses at the end of every
chapter.
Nathan: Don't bother reading it. Your favorite character dies.
Reader: Yours does, too. In fact, it’s best not to form any
emotional attachments of even the slightest kind. Spend the energy on hating
characters. You’ll get a much longer run out of that.
All men do is eat roast goat, drink
mead, fornicate with anything they could get their wang into, and kill each
other in imaginative and disgusting ways.
Women were about the same (minus the wang, usually).
Don’t swear your allegiance to anyone. Ever. Sworn sword may
strengthen quaking heart, said Gimli, but it’s not going to bury you when
you’ve been hacked to death by the king’s minions in the Red Keep.
Learn to fight with a longsword, because you will most certainly die at the end of one. Faramir's wife had it right.
Nine year olds can become assassins. See Avengers and Arya.
Always burn the bodies. ALWAYS.
Settle your debts. Men may bind themselves to their liege
lords, but they’ll fight just as well for someone who pays them on time and in
full.
Every race always views every other race as savage. There is
no reason not to. They’re not like us, they shoot horses, don’t they? And then
roast and eat them.
The best dungeons have no walls, only a six hundred foot
drop. Unless you’re trying to imprison a wizard. Cuz the lord of Eagles would
have found Tyrion just fine if he had thought to catch a moth, whisper a couple
of sweet nothings to it and release it into the wind. It was called the Eeriey
(or whatever) for crying out loud.
If you can’t find yourself a dragon, get yourself a
direwolf.
