Clash of Kings

I heart George R. R. Martin. There. I said it. In particular I love Martin's epic 'high fantasy' series the Song of Ice and Fire. I write 'high fantasy' in scare quotes because it seems that wherever I read this descriptor it is employed as defense against lowly ole genre fiction. I for one have nothing against lowly ole genre fiction. I like my pulp just as much as I like my Proust. More helpfully I think, is the kind of sci-fi/fantasy that 'high fantasy' implies. The scattered and often underwhelming forces of a few Good eggs versus a seemingly unstoppable tide of Evil. We're talking a broad scope, insurmountable odds, hundreds of characters, and thousands and thousands of pages. Tolkien is often the name folks cite when invoking 'high fantasy'. But Martin's world of Westeros, while it does contain fantastic elements, seems much more focused on people and how they deal with each other.

I have just finished the second volume of the saga, A Clash of Kings. Like all good sequels, it builds off the foundation without rehashing whats already come before. Straight out of the gates we're introduced to characters who previous played minor roles now creeping to the forefront after the treacherous political moves of Game of Thrones decimated some the kingdom's more honorable figures. While there was war in Thrones, there is carnage in Kings. Loosely based on the War of the Roses, Martin's epic features several rival families all clawing and stabbing to rule a continent. There is incest, backstabbing and blackmail aplenty. There are bitter sibling rivalries. There is religious fundamentalism. And there is Martin's trademark; no matter how important you think a character may be, nobody is safe.

Unfortunately I'm way behind. There are 2 giant-sized novels to go, and fifth due out in September. L has read everything that has seen print, and smiles whenever I mumble 'Good Lord' under my breath as my fingers rifle through pages. She knows what is in store for me and it's time to catch up.