|Keep the damn throne, Ned. I don't want it.|
In short, I was trying to read George R.R. Martin's first book in the mindbendingly epic Game of Thrones series. Carrying that big tome in my purse every morning weighed me down (over 800 pages!) and I was quite simply overwhelmed by, well, everything. After struggling through only 214 pages of the book, I have admitted defeat. Even worse, I found the TV show to be well made but boring and confusing.
Fellow nerds, I am ready for my shunning.
I have a problem. Every so often I try to tackle an epic fantasy or sweeping space opera novel. For a person who gets anxious when they don't finish a book, I have abandoned a high number of these genres. I hear about amazing plots or interesting characters and I give them a try, only to fail again. Every single time I feel almost sick with disappointment that I can't get through them.
|Why can't I finish you?! *sobs*|
I've heard this is the point of the books. Most characters are reprehensible human beings who do incredibly evil, fucked up things. I usually love a book that has some really messed up, evil characters but I just couldn't stomach the level of vile I encountered in the book. Part of me got bored with it and the other part of me was so messed up by it I couldn't continue (throwing Bran from a tower?! Selling Daenerys?! Sansa's direwolf?!). I quickly began to not give a damn about anyone in the series. The second I became attached to someone, something horrific befell them. What was the point in getting attached? If spoilers my friends have told me are any indication, it just gets worse for some of the characters I really liked (Nooo, Ned...).
Another issue I had was with GRRM's writing, which I found to be drier than the parts I had to skim just to finish Lord of the Rings. I started to not understand the motivations of some of the characters. I never felt fully immersed in the world he had tried so hard to create. I never got the hang of the geography and I was incredibly skeeved by the way he wrote sex. I think back on some of those scenes and just shudder.
|One day you will play someone who has a good day, Sean Bean|
I wanted desperately to love Game of Thrones. I was prepared to be blown away. All of my friends have been obsessed with it, even my coworkers talk about it around the water cooler (we actually have a water cooler and people actually talk around it, it's bizarre). I really wanted to join in. I'm actually still pretty depressed that I couldn't make it through the book and have left my bookmark stuck faithfully between pages 214 and 215 in the hope that I may pick it up again. Maybe, if I give it time, my brain will finally be able to tell people apart or I may suddenly be grabbed by the writing. Instead, I look at the series sitting in a pile on my floor and just sigh sadly. I tried, honestly I did. I guess I'm just another casualty of the sadistic and cruel Lannisters.
I guess it's weird to feel sad about all this. I do feel sort of like the unpopular kid in school who has missed out on the big thing all the popular kids are talking about. Sitting at my little unpopular lunch table, in a corner, alone.
Readers, friends, if you love Game of Thrones, please tell me why. Give me a reason to get back up and resume my fight. Is it even worth it to keep going? What do you like about the series? I beg of you, give me some insight. Tell me something I may have overlooked. Or at least tell me your secret for telling everyone apart!