The next book I read was Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin. Because honestly…it’s about f$#&ing time. And now, yes, I get it. I get it.
People that I know and (mostly) trust have been telling me to read this series for…for…when did the first book come out? 2005? For 7 years, then, people have been prodding me to pick it up. “It’s so good!” they would cry. “The intrigue! The characters! The politics!”
Bleh. Politics? Really? I hate intricate political intrigue plots. They’re ponderous, there are so many characters to remember, and the pacing is always glacier-like. It’s so hard to get excited by so-and-so subtly snarking at someone else behind their backs, and currying favor with the king/queen gets old so quickly. What I discovered, however, halfway into Game of Thrones, is that I hate poorly-done political intrigue plots. So many of them can be boring and ponderous, but they don’t have to be. Even this book is slow at times, but just beyond some of the dry parts are the bits that will punch you right in the gut with a visceral reaction.
Don’t give up on it. Get to the end of the first one, at least. I gave it five out of five, and will definitely be reading sequels. Definitely.
Also, Tyrion rocks.